It’s a tricky thing, being needed. It’s validating, in its own weird way. It feels like being in control. If there’s anything this experience has taught me, though, it’s that I want to be needed for who I am. Not because of what I can give people.
“Didn’t realize I raised such an ungrateful brat who puts her family last—”
I end the call, not waiting to hear the rest of what Dad has to say.
I blink at the wallpaper on my phone. It’s a photo of the sunset from the firehouse. A daily reminder of the life I’m making for myself. A daily reminder of home.
“Oh my god, did I really use the word ‘fiduciary’?” I ask, stunned.
“Sounded like it just rolled off your tongue,” Logan says, running his hand down his face.
“I’m proud of myself,” I manage to say.
“Sweetheart, there aren’t enough words for me to express how proud of you I am, too,” Logan says. His term of endearment nearly cracks me in half in my already fragile state. He looks like he’s just won a contest after a long dry spell of luck. As though my wins are his.
This must be what it feels like to be in it with someone all the way. Because this entire time, I’ve been fighting for his wins, too.
I don’t know what will happen with my family any more than I know what my future holds. But I do know that right now I’ve trusted myself to make the best decision with the information I have. That’s all I can do.
Closure, I’m learning, isn’t a sure thing. Messy parts of life don’t get wrapped up in pretty bows. I’m going to have to live with the discomfort of situations not resolving quickly. Or maybe at all. Maybe not everything is meant to be fixed.
“If you really did get my fortunes, this must be what Wendy was saying about having everything you need to make your dreams a reality,” Logan says. “Not that this was a dream, but everything you just did was already inside of you.”
I had viewed everything happening with my family as bad luck. But flip or no flip, maybe being forced to face this, to stand up for myself, was good all along. I lose something, but I gain something, too.
I nod. “Maybe so.”
I run the tips of my fingers along the little dock, rememberingthe last time I sat on it with Grandma and Grandpa. We were looking back at the house, the sun making a showy descent.
“That right there, that’s my whole life,” Grandpa had said to me. “One day you’ll be that lucky, too.”
I turn his words over in my head. Scaled down to the size of half a coffee table, I see the house and Grandpa’s comment in an entirely new light. Air deflates from my lungs as it all suddenly becomes so vibrantly clear.
He was never talking about the house. He wasn’t even looking at it. Only I was.
With Grandpa in my periphery, I had been admiring the way the sun’s golden rays reflected off the house’s teal paint.
And Grandpa had been looking at Grandma.
A small sound escapes my throat. I wanted this house because I was holding on to a dream. A dream that would never become a reality.
But there are other dreams—better ones—that I never dared to envision for myself. And right here, right now, they’re already starting to come true.
“Thank you for this. For all of it. I love it. I love you,” I tell Logan. They’re not powerful enough words for what I feel. They’ll have to do for now.
It’s when he kisses my forehead and tells me that he loves me back that I lose it. I’m half sobbing, half laughing into my hands. I’m not even crying because I’m sad. I’m crying because, finally, I feel free.
Time to rise from the ashes.
“How do waffles sound?” Logan asks.
Phoenixes do need to eat.
“Like a dream,” I say.
And it does. I want the big stuff, sure. A home, a grand love story. But the big stuff only becomes big because of the little stuff:breakfast for dinner, rowboats, disguises, bags of candy, and cinnamon lattes.
I want more of that. With Logan. Every day. I don’t know how I get more fortunate than that.
