“I took it out on him. I sent him away.”
“Why did you?” Margo asks. There’s no judgment. I have the feeling she’s trying to let me work it out myself.
“I don’t know... I find myself always wanting to lean on him or turn to him for comfort.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Margo asks. “A benefit of being in a relationship is having that comfort.”
“But I should be able to comfort myself. Work out my own problems.”
Sighing, I roll my stiff neck. It doesn’t help. Everything feels like it’s clamping down. I think about Monica crying over being blamed for Jelly’s performance, me being hit with a freaking sandwich, my trashed bike, August’s face when Dad sneered about us. It’s a kaleidoscope of panic. Shouldn’t this be easy?
“I don’t know... maybe I’m making things hard on myself. I want everything now and I want it for forever.”
“That’s called ambition, Penny dearest. It’s a good thing to have.”
“But when it causes all this...emotion.” I press a fist to my aching heart. “Maybe I’m asking for too much too fast.” In the space of a few months, I’ve gotten everything I ever wanted. What if it’s taken away? People leave. The ones who are supposed to love you canstop.
“I’m only in my twenties,” I rush on, frantic now. “They say committing to someone too early isn’t really a good thing.”
“Oh?” Mom sounds amused. “And why is that?”
“Because you need time to grow into yourself, figure out life. If you don’t do that first you inevitably drift apart.”
“Bullshit.”
“Excuse me? What?”
“You heard me fine.” Mom shakes her head ruefully. “As a person who is not in her twenties and most definitely had plenty of time to figure things out, I say that is absolute bullshit. It’s an excuse people tell themselves to feel better. And if it makes them happy to believe it, fine.
“We’re always growing into ourselves. You think you hit some magic age and boom! it’s all figured out? That you’re somehow going to be a different person? I hate to break it to you, but, no. We are who we are. We can mature in our outlook or change opinions on things, but we’ll be doing that for our whole lives. We’re a constant work in progress. That’s life.”
“Well—”
“If you love someone,” Margo says, “truly love them, and they make you happy, embrace it. Don’t worry about tomorrow or some nebulous future. Be happy now. Because now is where life is.”
God, they’re right. And it leaves me with the inevitable truth. That, aside from this current shit show with my dad, I am happy. More than I’ve ever been in my life. And it’s because of one person.
“I’m afraid.”
“I know you are, honey. And you aren’t alone. Opening yourself up to being with another person is a risk. That’s terrifying.”
“You and Neil are the ideal. But... My dad—”
“You think August would do to you what Doug did to me?” Mom asks softly.
“No.” I exhale weakly. “No, he’s not like that. But it’s just... scary how much I want it to work.”
Margo dusts her hands on a towel and then gets three glasses from the bar and pulls out a bottle of Chardonnay from the wine fridge. She glances at the ring on my finger. It’s quick, but assessing. A smile plays around the corners of her lips. “If I know my son, I’m going to guess he’s scared for the same reasons.”
She hands a glass of wine to Mom before pouring mine. I don’t have it in me to tell her what I really fear. That my depth of feeling might be more. That, despite my claims of growing apart, I know I’ll never not want August. But I’ll only know for certain he feels the same if I ask. Andthatis scary as hell.
Mom takes a sip of wine, then looks at me from over the rim of her glass.
“Fear is what stops people from truly living. You gotta learn to push past it. You might have to do it again and again because, as I said, we’re all a work in progress.”
“Great.”
Her smile is cheeky. “Isn’t it, though?”
