Chapter 6
Ali
We stepped out into Lakeside like we were hitting the streets of Montauk. It was too chilly for breezy linen, so we opted for light layers and our designer sunnies perched on our noses.
“Charming! I can’t believe this place exists in real life,” Misha said as he panned his phone from the center of the town square, capturing video. “I didn’t think I was a travel vlogger, but this little town is giving!” The camera stopped on me. “There she is! Queen bestie herself. Say hi, Ali!”
“Hi!” I smiled and waved into the camera. “Welcome to Lakeside.” I lifted my arms, presenting the town.
He turned the camera back on his face and ended it with a dramatic, “Gorgeous!”
“You spent time here as a child?” he asked, the phone now off and dropped in his coat pocket.
“Every summer I can remember until I was like sixteen or so,” I said. “All my Lakeside memories revolve around Gibby.”
“Gibby?”
“That’s what I called my grandmother. Grandma Libby became Gibby in my little-person voice.”
Misha tsked his tongue and made a cutesy face. “I bet little Ali was so cute.”
We made our way to the center of the square.
“For tourists, the downtown square and the lake are the biggest draws here. There’s the corner store over there,” I said as I pointed in the direction of the store.
“There’s a coffee shop a couple doors down from the store.
The little bookstore is a door down from that.
Basically, everything you might imagine in a small, sleepy Midwest town. ”
We continued to stroll.
“The Tavern is right on the edge of the lake. And it looks pretty much unchanged. In the summer, boats will dock at the main pier and people will come into town. It’s really cute.”
“I think we found your neighbor’s vet clinic too,” Misha said, pointing to a sign that read: Tender Paws Pet Clinic. “Tender Paws? I need to meet this darling man,” he said as he reached for the clinic’s door.
“Misha! No! Mee-sha . . .” I protested, but it was too late. He was already inside. I groaned and stepped inside too.
“Can I help you?” a petite woman sitting behind the reception desk asked.
“Hello. I’m Mikhail and this is my gal pal, Alison. We’re new in town and just getting the lay of the land. Your clinic looked so sweet we just had to pop in and introduce ourselves,” he said with an extended hand.
The clinic was in fact very sweet and full of small-town charm. The muted pastel-colored walls and rustic wood accents created a cheerful reception space.
“I’m Sheila. Welcome to Lakeside.”
Misha and Sheila continued to chat about the cute square and shops, and I wandered over to a bulletin board near the front door.
Polaroids of dogs, cats, rabbits, hamsters, and guinea pigs with names like Barnie, Cash, and Ellie written in black Sharpie marker in the white border of each photo.
I noticed one Polaroid at the top center of a blond cutie with the name Chicory.
“This you?” I looked to the dog who had sauntered toward me and sat at my side.
He was a very handsome golden retriever with long, soft fur and a full frame.
He had tufts of gray in his coat around his mouth and on his legs.
His short, folded ears slid back as he looked up at me with his rich dark eyes. “It’s gotta be you. Same sweet face.”
“That’s Chic. He’s our resident doorman. Welcomes in all the patients and new folks,” the woman, Sheila, said. “You must be Ali. Welcome to Lakeside. Are you getting settled in?”
“Nice to meet you, Sheila. Yes, I think I’m settling in okay.”
“Thanks to her neighbor, who was kind enough to escort her to her cabin,” Misha said.
“This was before I could arrive to assist. We’d love a chance to thank the chivalrous man for all his help,” Misha said.
I shot him a look that meant, What the hell are you doing?
He returned my look with a gesture of shooing me away as he turned to face Sheila head-on, his back now to me.
“Dr. Elliot is with a patient at the moment. You’re welcome to wait for him or perhaps leave a message?” Sheila said.
“Um, no, we should be going. I’m sure I can thank him later at home,” I said, but then realized how that sounded. “I mean, if I see him around I can say thank you.” I started to grab Misha’s arm to pull him outside.
“It was super nice to meet you, Sheila.”
Misha stopped. “Sheila, darling, do you have a washroom I could use?” Then to me, “I’m just going to use the facilities real quick. Meet you outside?”
I stepped outside and into the sun. The warmth was exactly what I needed.
I pulled my phone out of my bag. I was avoiding the barrage of text messages and social media DMs questioning my whereabouts.
Questioning my departure. Questioning my plan.
All. The. Questions. No answers. I needed answers. Not more questions.
I opened the messages apps, and all the unread messages practically screamed at me. Some people from my office checking in. Appointment cancellation confirmations. Oof, I could tell my hairstylist was not pleased with me. Then, I checked on the texts from Molly:
Molly
Where did you go?
Are you coming back?
Ali, I can’t cover the rent on my own.
I was hoping we could be more mature about this.
Ali!!!
I could picture Molly as she typed those texts. Sitting on a plush sofa with her legs tucked under her in a just-right oversized hoodie and sweatpants that made her look cozy and cool. Her hair likely gathered in a coiled topknot, with long silky pieces framing her heart-shaped, pouty-lipped face.
Had to break the lease.
You’re no longer welcome to live in my apartment.
Delete my number.
What I had wanted to write was “Fuck right off.”
In the end, she got the last word—broadcasting a version of my story that polished her and flattened me.
Ali blew up her life . . .
Alison Bennet is a selfish person.
Impulsive.
Unhinged.
Entitled.
Misha emerged from Tender Paws. “Well, she is just lovely!”
I lowered my phone.
“I was really hoping to bump into Dr. Elliot, though.” He looked at my face. “What? What’s got you looking all sad?”
“Nothing. I was just checking in on things. Stanley is really upset that I had to drop him as my stylist. He’s the only one who’s touched these tresses since college.”
“Stanley’s made you this emotional?” Clearly unconvinced, he snatched my phone from my clutches.
“Ah . . . I see. Molly. Do yourself a favor, babe. Block her. And unfollow her social accounts. There’s nothing to gain from maintaining any connection to that leech. In fact, block ’em all. Work people. The fake friends,” he advised.
“Right. I know. I should.” I plopped down on one of the sidewalk benches that lined the streets of the square.
Misha sighed and sat down next to me.
“I was so . . . blindsided.”
Misha nodded and tucked his lips like he was holding back from saying something.
“What? You knew?” I asked.
“I couldn’t possibly envision how low she would go,” he explained. “But yeah, I could kind of tell she was not a good person and definitely not a good friend.”
He hesitated before continuing.
“Look, babe. I fear you’ve been surrounded by disingenuous social climbers for way too long. You might not be able to recognize fake anymore. You are a kind, generous, beautiful unicorn of a human, and unfortunately there are meanies out there, like Little Ms. Moochy.”
He took my phone again.
“Here.” He tapped and swiped before handing it back to me. “I took care of the blocking. You’re liberated, my dear.”
My mouth hung open.
“You can always undo it, but give yourself some distance for a while.”
“Okay. You’re right.” I put my phone away. “Thank you.”
He gave a quick nod with pursed lips and chin raised. His playful nod.
“Shall we continue our promenade?” Misha stood up and wrapped my arm around his.
“I don’t know how to do all this,” I admitted.
“What, walk the square of your lovely downtown?”
“No . . . sitting still. Being an outcast.”
“Just don’t burrito here too long.”
“What’s burrito?” I asked with a laugh.
“You know, burrito-ing—taking a beat to wrap yourself in a metaphorical warm tortilla and folding inward. We all do it every now and then. To burrito is to heal. To burrito is to get well,” he said theatrically.
“Did you make that up?” I asked.
“Of course I did. Doesn’t matter, though. You can burrito to pause and sit with feelings. That’s healthy burrito. But don’t burrito to permanently fold yourself into halves or quarters. That’s bad burrito.” He patted his hand over mine that rested on his biceps.
“How do I know which one I’m doing?” I asked.
“Are you trying to make yourself small because you think it will make you fit into some version of the world someone else created for you?” he asked.
“No. Not anymore.” The thought hit me.
“If you’re just taking a breather, seeking insight into what you feel in your heart, like truly feel, then you’re good burrito, babe. And you will eventually unfold, crawl out, and reenter life as the whole damn person that you so wonderfully are,” Misha said.
“I’m a nobody in exile.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Is it pathetic to admit that it scares me?”
Misha stopped and turned to face me. “That right there is bad burrito speaking.” He bopped his finger to my nose.
“The Ali I know is one of a kind and has a heart of gold. She is beautiful, and yeah, she can be a little gregarious, spontaneous—in all the best ways. She is worthy of real relationships that have nothing to do with money or popularity. You can do this, babe.”
After a pause to take in all of it and realizing more than he knew how much I needed to hear his words, I said, “I’m glad you’re here, Meesh.”
“Me too.” Then, “This is cute,” he said, noticing the café we had stopped in front of. “Let’s get a warm bevie and we can walk around holding it like we’re suburban moms who just got out of Pilates, only we’re dressed in cute street clothes.”
“Do you think they even have a Pilates studio here?” I asked.
“Probably not, but I am living my best rom-com fantasy, so it exists. It has to exist, otherwise how are you and Dr. Tender Paws going to have a hilarious encounter with your legs in straps trying to look hot but failing miserably, because who can look cute with their ankles swinging above their head while holding in a fart? It’s all written in the stars, babe.
” The delight in his eyes was infectious as we ducked into the café.
I know he was just trying to make light of the moment. And it all sounded so innocent the way Misha imagined it. But I wanted a fresh start, not a fresh romance.
In my experience, the romance bit always complicated the life bit. And me in relationships always left me questioning myself. I was very good at assuming the identity that was expected of me.
I was not going to make the same mistakes anymore. This was the new Ali. I had this chance to reinvent myself—a reconnecting with myself.
I had the luxury of distance and anonymity from all my befores. Nobody knew me here in Lakeside. There were no preconceived notions following me around.
Here I was not a hot mess in designer clothing.
Here I hadn’t let anyone down.
My spontaneity wasn’t yet seen as impulsiveness.
My boldness wasn’t yet insolence.
My scattered brain not yet deemed unreliable.
My optimism not yet na?veté.
I could be a new version of me in Lakeside.
And this renewed version of me was going to be unapologetic about being my true self. No more masking. No more shrinking. No more losing sight of me.