Asher makes an awkward face, looks at the imaginary camera lens that’s not in the room with us, and then back to me.
“Yeah. Basically,” I snort.
“David wants rats in his pizza?” God bless him for injecting humor into something that was severely lacking it.
I close my eyes, remembering the ridiculousness that was last night, and another small giggle wracks my chest. “David didn’t understand why I pulled perhaps the first literal ROFLMAO in the history of my generation overusing the acronym.”
Asher looks at me with concern. “Sorry, did you just have a stroke?”
I meet his gaze head on. “No?”
“Did you say…raffle mayo?”
I roll my eyes at him, opening up a blank document on my computer screen and type the acronym for him.
“ROFLMAO,” I explain, gesturing. “You know, theitword of AIM back in the late nineties/early two-thousands, back before it just got shortened to just l-m-a-o.”
A blank stare greets me.
“Oh, God. You’re too young to even know what AIM is, aren’t you?” My head falls into one hand, shaking in despair, disgust coursing through my dinosaur bones. How long before they turn me into oil now? Any day, must be.
Next thing he’s going to tell me is he has no clue what TRL is, and Carson Daly is just the guy that hostsThe Voice. My millennial soul couldn’t take that. Maybe I should book my grave plot after brunch this weekend, just to be safe.
“Rolling on the floor, laughing my ass off…” I say, expectantly.
“Ohhh.” But I think he’s just humoring me.
“Yeah. I actually, genuinely, fell off the couch laughing while we were texting last night, and when I tried to explain it to David, he…” I trail off, unable to help the faint taint of shame from creeping in. That I embarrassed him with my juvenile, carefree antics. Even if no one was there to see them. His aura, the vibes he was giving off, told me how inappropriate he found my response to be.
Asher’s warm earthen eyes—enhanced today by a creamy brown sweater—intrigued and amused earlier in my story, now narrow slightly on mine. “He what?”
I shake my head dismissively. “Nothing, really. He just couldn’t get why I was laughing until I cried. It was just this poetic moment that illustrated how much we aren’t on the same page anymore. Me, enjoying as much as I can out of life. Him, thinking that’s a waste of time.”
Asher’s brows dart up—both of them, for a change—but he remains silent.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be complaining to you about that. How unprofessional of me.”
“It’s fine.” The words are soft, but spoken with so much intent, my lips keep moving without my permission, like they’re following a silent command to keep going, and I break my own rules on fraternizing in the workplace.
“It’s just…We’ve been together so long, I’ve had my entire life path laid out in front of me this whole time, but I’m starting to see that his future and mine might look different than I thought they’d be. We’re not really seeing eye-to-eye that much these days.”
I glance over at Asher, make sure he’s not running out the door, but all I see is understanding in his eyes. I recross my legs underneath the desk, tugging my knee-length skirt farther down as I do. “It didn’t used to bother me, these differences between us, but they’re starting to really hit me, how important they are.”
My eyes unfocus, my screen blurring out in my vision, as I’m lost to the train of thought. I can feel Asher’s intent gaze on the side of my face, and I keep going. “Something as stupid as not being able to laugh when something is funny…what if it’s just the tip of the iceberg? How many other things between us will never be quite right? We have other issues, other things that haven’t resolved, even after all this time. It’s just not easy to gauge the significance, the relative importance of stuff like this when your entirelifeis tied up with another’s. We’re not at that stage in a new relationship where you’re just looking for red flags so you can run the other way. We’re committed. We areinthis together. That’s not the kind of thing you just walk away from because of a couple of minor issues. But how many am I going to keep finding? What if we never fully align?” My voice quiets, I pause in thought. “What if a part of meknewwe weren’t right for one another, and that’s why I said no when he proposed? Not that I just wasn’t ready to commit to him. That some bit of ancient wisdom within me recognized that committing tohimwasn’t the right path for me.”
The two screens floating in my periphery become one again, and reality snaps back into place around me. I shake my head to clear the vision, the thoughts, this conversation, and turn to face Asher, embarrassed at letting all that out. My face flushes, cheeks heat, a blush consuming my too-pale skin.
“I’m sorry for making you listen to all of that. I have a great life with him. I’m just being selfish, wanting it to be completely, one hundred percent perfect, when it’s already so much better than most ever get.”
I’ve been telling myself that for so long, it came out on autopilot, an automatic apology, making excuses for my hopes and dreams. But it doesn’tfeelselfish to wish for connection, understanding, intimacy. If anything feels wrong at this point, it’s continuing to pretend that things between us arefine, that our future is assured, and that I don’t need more out of my relationship to be happy.
Asher doesn’t say anything, mouth stays pressed together, not emitting a peep. But his eyes…they tell me that I’m not being selfish, not even a little. That I deserve…more, better.
And in his eyes, I see he’s got unfulfilled dreams of his own, lying just beneath the surface, too.
TWELVE
ELLIE
