She thought for a second. “We could continue our Jim Carrey phase. Ace Ventura 2?”
“Ace Ventura it is,” I said, urging her to get comfortable. Hazel settled onto the couch as I moved into the kitchen. I could feel her eyes on me, a mischievous glint in them.
“What?” I asked, half amused.
“You promised to tell me more about your parents,” she said, and the words snagged me mid-motion. Ihadpromised. For a moment I stood still, caught between memory and the present,before I exhaled and reached for the safer task of grabbing snacks and drinks. The kitchen corner suddenly felt like a refuge.
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you’re willing to share.” I looked at her and smiled. Curious yet considerate. She had told me so much about herself; it only seemed fair to return the gesture.
“Kimberly and Oliver Davis—the perfect fake couple.” I tried to sum up my life in a few sentences. “My mom’s an art consultant, and my dad runs an insurance company and collects art. Funny thing is, he rarely collects anything Kimberly recommends. They have completely opposite tastes.”
“Sometimes opposites attract,” Hazel said.
“Yes, but you have to have something in common; it can’t just be opposites. Or at least, you should appreciate your partner for the things they enjoy, even if you don’t, because it makes them who they are. But with them... They’ve always given off the vibe of forced tolerance rather than love.
To me, they were just two people stuck together, raising a child out of obligation. They weren’t happy, or ever had been, as far as I remember, but still refused to divorce. Just living together, making each other miserable instead. Some would argue that they stayed together for their family, for me. What a noble goal if it wasn’t total bullshit. The truth was, I would have been better off with two separate, content parents than a dysfunctional pair pretending it was for my sake.
Hazel watched me intently. I decided right then that I’d keep talking as long as she looked at me like that. As I described the basics of my childhood, I managed to find the right movie, make tea and popcorn, and sit beside her. All that with her eyes on me.
“As long as I can remember, they’ve always been miserable and spiteful. Whether they actually love each other is anyone’s guess. Why are they still married is an even bigger one.”
“I...” she hesitated. “I overheard a call... in the store. With your mom?” she said quietly, trying to decide if she wasn’t overstepping.
“Ah, yes. The famous year-long splitting of the beach house.” I let out a humorless chuckle. “Over the years, I guess because of me moving out, their relationship has started to rot, so they aren’t even trying to hide the irritation they feel toward each other. It’s easier for them to call me and use me as the middleman.”
Hazel looked at me with quiet understanding, the same way I’d looked at her last night. My friends never understood why I kept answering their calls and listening to their whining. But Hazel knew. We couldn’t choose our parents.
“Did you fight with them when you were younger?”
“There were a few serious arguments. Like when I started thinking about my future. I thought about a career in professional sports. Swimming,” I added, and Hazel’s face lit up with a smile. “My father thought I wasn’t athletic enough and wouldn’t achieve anything there. Pushed me to pursue something else.”
“Have you ever talked to him about it?”
“Would you?” It came out sharper than I intended. In truth, it was more of aHave you?question.Have you talked to yours?
For a brief moment, I worried I might have been too harsh, but she simply nodded, a quiet acknowledgment. The weight of unanswerable questions, the ache of avoiding what hurts. Yet, like yesterday, we both felt our stories were meant to be listened to, not solved. At least for now.
“I don’t think it would have even mattered. At best, he might feel sorry for how I felt, not for what he did. Which means he’d do it all over again if given the chance. Which means I don’t want it. The apology,” I sighed. “I love my parents. I just don’t like them as people very much.”
We were sitting very close, and I was starting to feel the warmth of Hazel’s body pulling me in. I ignored it. I had to.
“That’s why you’ve given up on love?” Hazel asked, as if she were asking for the salt. Casual. Not judgmental.
“Why do you say that?” My gaze unintentionally caught on the corner of her lips.
“Well, your life in a nutshell... and Norah told me,” she admitted with a small, guilty smile.
Ahh, Norah, yes, the self-appointed fixer of my love life.
“Hey, listen, I love love. I love my friends being in love. Exhibit A: Alex’s proposal. I just don’t love it for myself. There’s nothing I can offer in the long run. But more importantly, I never lie about it. I think honesty is the best policy. I just don’t believe love is for me. I don’t think I even want it.”
Hazel seemed unfazed, accepting my words without an attempt to argue me out of my truth, which put me at ease. Like she’d heard confessions heavier than mine before and knew how to hold them without judgment.
“That’s fair, I guess. At least you know what you want. Or don’t want, for that matter. That’s the only reason I came here. Because at least you’re honest in that matter,” she said, turning back to the TV where Ace Ventura was meditating. “And hey, I’m not a prude. I understand sex. I believe even neuroscientists and physics professors use dating apps, have sex, and enjoy occasional hookups.” A smile tugged at my lips. It would be a good idea for a rom-com.
“I have no problem with people who know what they want. Even if it’s different from me. As long as they’re upfront about it.”
