AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’tnotlike lilies, exactly. I just never had the chance to figure out what Idolike.
And that holds true for most parts of my life.
From early on, my path was drilled into me. Go to college, get a “good” job, get married, make babies.
And that's…
Fine.
But is “fine” really the benchmark? Is that all I should be striving for? I didn’t think so, and the fear that I’d already wasted a good chunk of my young adulthood pressed in around me like a tomb.
No, a sarcophagus.
Full of lilies.
But, I have a warm bed and a reliable car, and I always have enough money for takeout if I want. So who am I to be ungrateful?
Who am I to be so unhappy with my relative good fortune that most days I can barely make it into the shower before work.
Dry shampoo and I are in a committed relationship.
Who am I to be so ungrateful for all the opportunities I’ve had? To end a relationship with a good guy because I think there might be more out there for me?
I mean, there’s got to be more than this.
Right?
“Lily, babe. Please. She just wants me to set eyes on you so she knows you’re OK. I promised her I would do that. Can you do that? For me?”
“I’m fine, Tad. I promise.”
Tad sighs loud and long enough that I hear it through the door. “Well, I promised your mom I’d see for myself. Please. Just open the door.”
My mother has every right to be worried.
I’d ignored every one of her texts and calls. Each one. How could I even begin to explain that? I can’t, which means I can’t deal with her. Not now.
Not when I can barely keep it together.
As strange as it sounds, and as much as I hate it, work is the only thing keeping me from spiraling completely out of control.
Knowing that I had to show up five days a week or I wouldn’t have money in my account to live keeps me functional, keeps me fed and mostly showered.
“Lily. Please.”
I press the spot on my arm, knowing the wounds aren’t fresh enough to elicit even a small pain response. I do it anyway, just like my gaze drifts to that arm out of habit despite touching the LCU sweatshirt that covered it. I don’t show my arms to anyone.
I shore up a breath and the last dregs of my courage. I’ll just let him see me for a second and that should buy me at least another week. Maybe two.
And maybe by then I’ll have it together.
I unlatch the chain. Tad and my mother deserve to know that I'm OK. Mostly. They're good people and I’m not trying to hurt them.
My fingers hover over the knob, shaking.
“Just rip off the BandAid,” I murmur and open the door.
“Hey, you.” Tad smiles as our eyes meet. “Are you all right?”
