“Oh, Ben. I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.”
“It really was. I love Ryan, and I think a part of me always will. But he shouldn’t have to give up his dreams just because I don’t share them. And neither should I. My dreams are different, but they’re just as important as his. In the end, I loved him enough to let him go.”
“And that’s why you moved to Boston?”
“Yeah, I felt like I needed a clean break. I knew if I stayed near him in California, I’d cave in just to keep him, and that’s not doing any service to either of us or to a child. So I decided to get as far away as possible and start over. Plus, my mom didn’t take the breakup well, and I needed to get away from all the fallout.”
“Oh?”
“She’s never cared that I liked men; in fact, she’s always accepted me and advocated for me. And she loved Ryan; they got along great. But I know she wanted grandkids, and I think she assumed that even though my partner would differ from that of my brothers, that my life would unfold the same way. She belongs to that generation that believes you go to college, get married, and have kids in that order or else you’re doing life wrong. My brothers all got married and had kids and followed that perfect step-by-step program. And then there’s Ben, still doing things differently. I always felt like I failed her.”
“But there’s no singular way to get through life perfectly. There is no step-by-step program.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, you know how we met up at the Sox game over the summer?”
“Wait, what?” Ben shakes his head, confused.
“No, no. Stick with me on this. You live in Cambridge. I live in Beacon Hill. We took different routes, but we both ended up at Fenway. Do you get me now?”
“Leave it to you to use a ridiculous sports metaphor to comfort me, Al.”
“Hey! Don’t knock my metaphors. They always work!” I laugh. “What I mean is, just because your path is different doesn’t mean it’s the wrong one.”
“I just feel so selfish for choosing myself.”
"Ben, I come from a mother who didn't want me. I know what it’s like to be an accident, an inconvenience. It is not selfish to decide you don’t want children and to stick to that. In fact, I actually find itselfless.”Ben looks at me with a surprised expression. “No, really. I think it is selfless to make that choice, to know you don’t want children, or can’t give them what they need. I think it’s brave.” I know I’m projecting my trauma here, and I don’t regret my existence at all, but I can’t help but wonder how things would have been different for my parents if my mother had been allowed to make her own choices.
“Alright,” Ben pivots the conversation. “Well, while we’re at this, I have a question too.”
“Oh boy,” I laugh. It’s my turn in the hot seat now. “Shoot.”
“Since we’re talking about relationships, I’ve been wondering. Why don’t you ever date? I’ve tried setting you up so many times; you either find a reason not to go at all or you scare them off on the date. I don’t get it. You’re smart, kind, funny, incredibly beautiful…”
“Oh, stop.” I blush. I pretend to fan myself. Deflective humor is often a coping mechanism for me. I hate receiving compliments. I never know how to accept them.
“No, you are! Come on, even I can see that. I can appreciate beauty; I just don’t want to hop into bed with you," Ben laughs. “Hell, I’d marry you for your carbonara alone. But Ali, seriously, you’re a catch. And it seems so weird to me how indifferent you are to even the idea of a relationship.”
I shake my head. “I’m not indifferent.”
“Ali…” Ben tilts his head, as if he doesn’t believe me.
“I’m not,” I say firmly. “It’s just hard. It’s my fault, and believe me, I know that. I’ve spent a long time toughening up to protect myself, but all I’ve really done is push people away. I have two simultaneous and contradictory fears: letting people in and being alone.”
“Do you know why?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I laugh. “I pay my therapist a lot of money to explain that one to me. I guess I’m afraid of getting hurt again. If I let someone in, they could leave me. I want love, but I can’t quite figure out how to accept it.”
I wasn’t expecting to be so honest tonight. But I’m sure the wine has helped those feelings bubble up. It is true, though; I don’t want to be alone. I want to find someone I could share my life with. Life is about who you tell your stories to. In the darkest, coldest night, who keeps your flame going?
Ben lies on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “You know what, Al? One day you’ll meet someone worth letting your guard down for.”
I chuckle. “If you say so.”
“I promise you, you will. Probably when you least expect it.”
“How will I know?” Maybe that’s a silly or naïve question, but I’m curious. I’ve never been in such a situation before; I don’t know if I would recognize it.
