Page 98 of Fake It For Glory

MERIDA

Iwoke up in my mother’s guest room, feeling blurry-eyed and utterly exhausted. My head throbbed from the relentless tears I had shed the night before. Pushing myself to sit up, I took a deep breath and rubbed my temples, trying to regain some semblance of composure. I still felt the weight of yesterday’s disaster on my chest.

I wasn’t sure I would ever feel normal again. Where did I go from here? What did I do? Moving to Siberia seemed like a good option. I didn’t want to accidentally run into Hattie or Jensen. Not that we would ever be in the same social circle, but just in case.

Leaving the bedroom, I found my mother in the living room, a sense of warmth and familiarity washing over me at the sight of her. She looked up, and her eyes softened with understanding and concern. Offering me a warm smile, she gestured toward the stove.

“There’s a hot kettle on the stove if you’d like to fix yourself some tea,” she said gently. “And I’ve just baked some fresh scones. They’re on the counter.”

I nodded, appreciating her thoughtfulness. Comfort food was exactly what I needed right now. I headed to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of steaming tea, its aroma offering a sense of solace. The scones, warm and inviting, beckoned to me from the counter. I couldn’t resist, and I helped myself to a couple, carrying them back to the living room.

Settling into a plush armchair beside my mother, I sipped the tea and nibbled on the scones, the simple act of eating bringing a small measure of comfort. The rain pattered against the windows, a soft and melancholic backdrop to our shared silence. There was a warm fire going in the gas fireplace. It would have been a perfect morning if it wasn’t coming on the heels of utter disaster.

She gazed at me with a gentle concern, her eyes filled with empathy. She asked the question I had been wrestling with all night.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” I replied. “I messed up.”

“What happened?”

“Dalton took the piece to Dad and told him he wrote it.”

Her mouth dropped open. “He did not!”

“He did. He wanted to see what Dad would say. Dad loved it and wanted to run with it. Dalton told him I wrote it. It’s the first time Dad has ever been truly proud of me. I hate that I liked the fact he was proud of me. I hate that I went to dinner with all of them to celebrate. I feel gross.”

“Do I have to ask how Jensen feels about it?”

I gave her a look that spoke a thousand words. “I’m sure you can guess.”

She nodded. “I think I can.”

I started to cry again. “The hurt on his face. I hurt him so bad, Mom. He wasn’t even all that mad. I know he was mad, but it was the betrayal that really got him. He was just destroyed. I tried to apologize, but he didn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear my explanations. He just wants me to leave him alone.”

My mother reached across the end table between us and took my hand in hers. “Sweetheart, you made a mistake. But you’re human. We all make mistakes. But what’s important is that you take responsibility for your actions and try to make things right.”

“I don’t know how to make it right. Jensen won’t talk to me. Dalton is acting like nothing happened. And Dad thinks I’m a genius. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“You’re still my daughter,” my mother said. “And I love you no matter what. But you need to figure out who you are and what you want. And then you need to make things right with Jensen.”

“I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me,” I said, wiping away tears.

“You won’t know until you try,” my mother said with a gentle smile. “But in the meantime, try to focus on yourself. Figure out who you are, what you want in life, and where you want to go from here.”

“I guess that’s the problem. I don’t know who I am or what I want. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to show Dad I’m a good journalist, just like him. I do love to write, but what I’ve been doing isn’t really writing. I could do that with a blog or something. I don’t even know if this is what I want to spend the rest of my life doing. I think I’ve just been doing what you guys thought I should do. You both used to tell me journalism was in my blood. I’m not so sure about that now.”

My mother squeezed my hand. “It’s okay to question things, sweetheart. That’s how we grow and learn. Maybe it’s time for you to explore other passions and interests.”

I sighed, looking down at my lap. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“How about starting with something that makes you happy?” my mother suggested. “What’s something you enjoy doing, just for yourself?”

I thought for a moment before answering. “I don’t know. I feel like an empty vessel. I feel hollow. When I was with Jensen, my life felt so full. There was so much excitement. Every day there was something new to see and do.”

“I’m sure you mean every day was exciting because you were with Jensen. Being with someone you love can make doing the dishes fun and exciting.”

“It’s crazy,” I said with a watery smile. “I only knew him for a few weeks, but I fell in love with him. I fell fast and hard. Now, I’m trying to figure out how I just pick up and go on without him.”