“That makes sense, Stell.” Her words were calm, factually stated, but still filled with compassion. “They were happy. You were happy. Then it was all taken away from you and you had to start over. Maybe you associated happiness with loss in your mind because you don't want to go through it a second time.”
My nostrils flared as I sucked in another breath, but failed to speak again. Instead, a little sob peeped out of me.
“Is that why you live so softly?” Grandma asked. “You've lived and breathed your job for a while. You stopped talking about your favorite movies. You just seemed to . . . fade into the machinations of your life. Like you hid from something. It's why I've nagged you to get married for so long,” she tacked on with a wry laugh. “I've been able to tell that you haven't been happy for a long time, but I couldn't put a finger on why.”
Hearing those words from her made me visibly wince. How could something be so obvious to everyone else, but not to me?
“Why didn't you say something?” I cried. “Why didn't you ask?”
“I didn't realize it until this moment, honey. I'm sorry.”
“No, it's not your fault. I'm sorry, Grandma. I just . . . I'm sad that I've lived the last four or five years trying to hide from something as silly as happiness. I mean . . .”
I trailed away, unable to articulate just how strange it sounded, even to my own ears. Yet how right I knew it to be.
She fell quiet, and I was glad for a moment to pull my ragged thoughts back together. A headache had started to collect behind my eyes and I felt emotionally wrought after the last two days. Exhausted, but better.
“I'm sad for you too, Stell. But now you know, and that means you can choose something better. Every day is another chance, isn't it? You make it what you want it to be. Dreams don't happen. Dreams are made.”
The bright words struck a deep chord within. A chord that had been dissonant for years and suddenly came back into harmony when I realized she was right. I had been hiding behind an understandable, but powerful, subterranean fear that I could lose everything all over again. The rocking of my five-year-old world had ripples that still reached me today, as an adult. But they didn't have to frighten me anymore.
Hadn't my worst fears just happened anyway? Hadn't I lost my apartment, my job, my clients, and for the time being, any supposed friends?
And yet here I stood.
Alive.
Alive and well. Happiness wasn't out of my reach after a great loss. In fact, I was doing better than I would have ever thought. More joyful than I had been before.
That meant something.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Anytime, my love,” she said. “Are you going to be all right?”
Pounding headache notwithstanding, I felt more unburdened than I had in years. Like the clearing of a storm.
“Better now than ever,” I said in a throaty response. Life had taken away so much of what I cared about again but had given me a second chance. A new start. Now, I had the insight I needed to choose to be happy and not be afraid.
After a few more minutes of checking on her, her Bunco club, her stocks, and feeling reassured that nothing out of the usual had come into her world—namely Joshua—I ended the call with a deep-seated relief. My thoughts whirled around each other, but this time in a good way. Cleansing. Removing the debris of the past.
It forced me to stare at the future in a way I normally never thought about. The future would come and I'd be in it. That had always been the extent of my thoughts.
But now I could make that future.
I lay back on the pier, my freezing toes back in the water, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sweet taste of fall sunshine. A languid half-sleep slipped over me until the slow, gentle tread of shoes on the pier interrupted the silence. Then the rustle of fabric and a weight settled next to me.
When I opened my eyes, Mark sat next to me. He leaned back on his hands and stared out at the lake. His profile was silhouetted against a perfect sky.
“I talked to Seiko.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “She's fine paying $175 a night, plus $200 for the dining hall for a day. I upped it from $150 because you had wanted to pad the numbers a bit, but I couldn't remember how much. She's going to send it to me on the same app that our HomeBnB people pay, but she said she doesn't need to sign a contract. She's doing this as a friend because she knows it's our first time trying it. She also said she'll let me know if anything is missing or needed so we can do it better next time.”
Relief filled me. “Thank you.”
“I'm sorry.”
He sounded like a little boy, a bit lost. I frowned.
“For?”
“Not being organized. For frustrating you. I could be better at details. It's a habit of mine to pawn them off on other people and not follow up, and the follow-up is my responsibility. So . . . I'm sorry. It can be hard to work with me.”
Slowly, I straightened up until our shoulders nearly touched. I pulled my knees back into my chest and mimicked his gaze on the other side of the lake. The gentleness of this moment was at odds with the riotous feelings in my chest now that he sat next to me.
“I was being too sensitive,” I said. “I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and I'm sorry too. I think I need to redefine my expectations or . . . just be more
