Dear Life

“Welcome home, Amanda. Uh, this is my friend Carter.”

“Carter?” Amanda asks knowingly then turns to assess him one more time. “Daisy’s mentioned your name. It’s nice to meet you.”

Wincing, I turn to Carter who’s dropped the casual stance and is now standing ramrod straight. I have a feeling he’s no longer comfortable. Was he ever comfortable? I like to think so, but with Amanda here, I’m sure he’s feeling quite awkward, especially with the way she keeps looking him up and down.

“Hey.” He nods in her direction and then turns to me. “I’ve got to get going. Thanks for the baking lesson.”

Without another word, he goes to the entryway and from the sound of it, starts putting on his boots.

Heat crawls up my neck, embarrassment and humiliation swallowing me whole. Not knowing what to do, I turn to Amanda who waves her hand in Carter’s direction, telling me without words to see him to the door.

I dry my hands on a dish towel and head to the entryway where Carter is already putting on his jacket. Jeeze, he’s quick.

Twisting my hands in front of me, I ask, “Do you want any cookies to go?”

“That’s okay,” he answers without looking up.

Goodness, did I do something wrong? I try to think back to a few minutes ago and recalculate everything I said. Was any of it offensive? I don’t think so. Did I pester him too much? Dive too much into his personal life? Not really.

Is it me? Does he just not want to hang out with me? Did he not have a good time? Sweat starts to prick the back of my neck. I thought I did everything right. I was kind, polite, I took his jacket, I made conversation, and I showed him how to make cookies. But was that not enough? Did I stare at him too much?

The notion of him noticing my wandering eyes makes my stomach roll. Please don’t let that be it. How humiliating.

Grasping on to anything, I say, “I hope you had a nice time.”

He finishes buttoning up his jacket and tucks his helmet under his arm while putting on his gloves. His eyes dart up to mine, dark to light, our eyes opposite, our personalities completely different, our outlook on life not even close to matching.

There is a slight tilt to his head, a small smirk to his lips, a small lean in his posture when he says, “I had a nice time, Snowflake. Thanks for having me over.”

“Then why are you leaving?” The words escape me before I can stop them, surprising me. I clamp my hand over my mouth and shake my head, so terribly embarrassed. “Don’t answer that,” I say quickly. My stomach flips, sweat coats my upper lip, and saliva starts to rise in my mouth. “Um, I need to go. Please shut the door when you leave.” Before he can say bye, I run up the stairs to my bathroom where I quickly grab on to the toilet, my eyes watering.

Ashamed, flustered, totally abashed, I sit on the floor of my bathroom, unable to comprehend the emotions rolling through me.

I invited a friend over for the first time. When he wasn’t aware, I . . . I lusted over his handsome features. When he was looking, I acted like an amateur, unable to converse effortlessly. I should be proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone, exposing myself, and taking a chance, but instead, I feel regret. What he must think of me right now?

And I have to see him in two days. Will he ignore me? Tears prick my eyes. I can’t even think about it.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” Amanda knocks on the door.

Wiping my nose, I take a deep breath. “Yeah.” My voice is tight so I keep it to a one-worded answer.

“Okay.” Amanda pauses, and then says through the door. “He didn’t say anything to hurt your feelings, did he?”

“No.” I sniff.

“Okay, because, uh, Hollyn said something that worries me.”

Curious, I ask, “What did she say?”

Opening the door, Amanda peeks her head in, a sad smile on her face when she sees me on the floor. “Oh, sweetie.”

Quickly standing, I wipe at my clothes, straightening them along with my apron. I hold up a hand so she doesn’t feel the need to embrace me. “I’m really okay. Facing fears is hard, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’m sure. So what did Hollyn tell you?”

With a concerned look, she says, “That Carter might not be the best guy and to be careful when around him.”

Why would Hollyn say that? There is some history between them but it doesn’t seem like it would be to the point that she would tell Amanda to warn me.

“I think Hollyn might be mistaken. I just don’t think they understand each other.”

Amanda shrugs. “Just be careful.” From her pocket, she hands me my phone. “Here, this beeped after you went upstairs. I’m going to take a shower and then eat at least four of your cookies.”

“Only if I can join you.”

Winking, she says, “It’s a date.”

Taking off, she leaves me in the bathroom, wondering what Hollyn meant when she said to be careful. Did she really think Carter could hurt me? He might be upset about something happening in his life, but I don’t believe he would ever really hurt me. Would he?

I remove my apron, splash some water on my face, and then turn to my bedroom where I change into an I Love Lucy pajama set. Even though my khakis have an elastic waistband, I still feel more comfortable in my PJs. Plus, Amanda likes to change into comfortable clothes when she gets home from work, so I like to join her and chat on the couch, all curled up and cozy.

I pull my hair into a ponytail and then reach for my phone, which is when I remember Amanda said it beeped with a message. I press the home button to make the screen come alive and immediately see a text from Carter.

A queasy feeling fills the pit of my stomach and my hand shakes as I open his message.

Carter: Why am I leaving? Because I’m not the kind of guy you should be friends with. Thanks for the cookies.

Not the kind of guy I should be friends with? Why not? Is there something I’m missing? Is it because I’ve never had a drink before? Maybe I’m too boring for him.

On the back of my door, there is a mirror that catches my attention. The reflection in the mirror is the girl I’ve always known. She’s sheltered, na?ve, old-fashioned, maybe a little outdated, slightly childish. I’ve always liked her, but maybe there is more for the girl in the mirror. Maybe it’s time for her to grow up. Maybe she’s not as likeable as I once thought.

I want there to be more. Maybe instead of relying on my comforts like baking and crafting, I’ll start expanding my horizons, try new things, see what it’s like to be an adult.

A change needs to happen, because right now, the person I see in my reflection is still stuck in the past, and I want her to move into the future. I’m doing this for me. I’m changing for me. I’m peeling my layers for me.

No one else. It doesn’t matter how much they don’t want to hang out with me. This is for me and only me.





JACE

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