“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.” She plops down at the foot of my bed, her hands fidgeting as she glances back at the rumpled blankets. “Oh. Sorry, did I wake you?”
I shake my head as I make my way to the bed, sitting beside her. “No, I couldn’t sleep much last night. Been up for a while.”
She nods, looks down, bites her lip.
“Claire?”
“No. No, I’m not okay.” Tears are sliding down her cheeks when she looks back up at me. She shakes her head, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “I’m so stupid. So, so stupid.”
I don’t need to ask what she’s talking about because I already know, so I just wrap my arms around her and pull her in tight. “Trust me. You’re not the stupid one, Claire.”
“I—I should have known, right? I mean, what kind of boyfriend cancels on you three times in one week?”
“The stupid kind.”
“And what kind of girlfriend doesn’t see right through it?”
“The trusting kind. The loving kind. The good kind.”
She only shakes against me, squeezing tighter. “I don’t know, Lou. Sometimes I wonder if I need to toughen up, stop being so naïve. Maybe then I wouldn’t find myself in messes like this one.”
“What?” I pull back, keeping my hands firmly on her shoulders as I look into her eyes. “Because you chose to trust in something, that means you’re not tough?”
She gestures at herself, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “I think that’s pretty obvious right about now, don’t you?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t think that’s obvious at all. You want to know the truth?” She says nothing, gaze latched on mine. “Sometimes I think people like you are the strongest of us all. The kind of person who can find beauty in anything. Who chooses to believe in love before hate. Who doesn’t just hope for happy endings, but has what it takes tocreatethe happy ending. It’s so easy to be angry, to hate, to see the worst in a situation. But to actively choose to see the best? That’s where all the courage is.”
As I say the words, the truth they hold rings back at me with total clarity, my mind eager to grasp onto any straws of hope it can find. I find myself looking at Claire in a new light as I think back to my situation with Enzo. Maybe I can stand to learn a few things from her.
She’s quiet for a long moment, so long in fact that I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. But then her lips start to quiver, and she yanks me toward her in the tightest hug I’ve ever received in my life. My eyes go wide, but I pull myself together and squeeze her back. I should seriously consider taking up writing Hallmark cards.
A ding from her pocket makes us pull apart. She wipes her eyes and chuckles, embarrassed. “What a thing to wake up to, huh? Bet you weren’t expecting to start your day this way.”
I shrug, thinking of the way I’ve had to start my days lately—with a hand on my heart to check if it’s still working. “Could be worse.”
She frowns, then opens her mouth as though to say something when her phone dings again. A grimace appears on her face as she reads the text. “Uh oh.”
“What is it?”
“Oh, just Paul. When he came in to grab his paycheck this morning, I snagged him so he could cover the desk while I ran up to see you. But, um, I think he might be just a teensy bit high. Like, even more than usual.”
My brows draw together as I lean in for a peek at the screen. It’s a picture. A selfie, actually. Paul is at the front desk, leaning over a dead fly. His long hair is down, falling around his face, and he’s got tears in his dazed eyes as he points at the insect. Below the image reads:I dunno what happened. We were just talking. I swear, Claire. We were just talking.
I can’t suppress a chuckle as I shake my head. “Poor guy.”
Claire snickers with me. “Yeah, I guess I better go help him before things get weirder down there.”
“Good plan.”
She flashes a quick grin as she gives me one last hug, then bounces off the bed, toward the door. As she turns the knob, she glances back at me. “Hey, Lou?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re that kind of person, too, you know. The kind who has what it takes to create her own happy ending.”
I smile vaguely, mulling those words over as the door closes behind her. Placing one hand over my heart, I listen to the silence that answers. A heavy anchor of fear wells in the pit of my stomach at the stillness beneath my palm.
I may not be able to have my own happy ending in this life. But I think I might be able to create one for someone else. Someone who deserves as fair a shot at happiness, atlife, as the rest of us.
