Chapter 11
“This is so cool!” Emmy’s pigtails fly as she bounces on her toes. She’s wearing her special birthday outfit for Uncle Jared—a tutu over jeans, gumboots with dinosaurs on them, and a T-shirt that reads Future Prime Minister.
We’re at a sensory maze, which promises mind-bending illusions, fun challenges, and sensory surprises for the whole family.
Given this is Emmy’s level of enthusiasm when we’re just in the reception area, I’m slightly concerned by what we might see when we get inside.
Sophie stands slightly apart from us, reading a sign. “No phones allowed inside, apparently.”
“How will we document my inevitable victory dance when I conquer the maze?” I ask.
Sophie just looks at me while Jared laughs.
Right. So that didn’t land well. I’m trying not to take it personally that Sophie doesn’t seem particularly excited about my presence here today.
And it definitely appears Sophie doesn’t appreciate my humor the way Jared does.
“Thanks for organizing this,” Jared says to Sophie, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Even though I specifically said no fuss.”
“It’s not a fuss. It’s Emmy’s idea.” Sophie’s face softens as she looks at her daughter. “She said Uncle Jared needed an adventure for his birthday.”
“An adventure!” Emmy confirms, then grabs my hand. “Felix, you’re on my team!”
My chest does that squeezing thing it’s been doing lately.
“I’m fairly sure a sensory maze doesn’t require teams, but if it does, I’m totally there. We’ll whip your mum and Uncle Jared at whatever competitive element we can invent for this.”
Sophie’s eyes flick between Emmy’s hand in mine and my face, something unreadable in her expression.
A cold weight settles in my gut.
It feels weird to have someone with Jared’s features look at me without smiling.
It’s okay. This is my chance to spend time with Sophie, to win her over and make her like me more.
We put our phones in a locker and then enter the maze through a corridor lit with UV lights that make everyone’s teeth glow like we’re in a toothpaste commercial directed by aliens.
The first few rooms are pretty straightforward, navigating through a rope maze, and a room where the floor tilts at weird angles and the walls are painted with optical illusions that make you dizzy if you stare too long.
Emmy loves the room that’s got piano stairs, jumping up and down them to somehow create the perfect soundtrack to four-year-old joy.
The crawling tunnels come next, which is where I discover that my knees have opinions about supporting my body weight on hard surfaces. Strong negative opinions.
“Oh god, I’m elderly,” I groan, army crawling because it’s slightly less painful.
“You’re only twenty-five,” Jared calls from behind me.
“Twenty-five in gay years is like forty-five in straight years. It’s science.”
Emmy’s giggling ahead of us, having zero trouble with the tunnels because she’s four and probably made of rubber and magic.
“The view’s not bad from back here,” Jared says in a low voice.
I turn back to flash him a grin. “Stop objectifying me. I’m more than just a spectacular ass.”
“You’re right. You’re also spectacular thighs.”
“And spectacular everything else,” I say, then immediately panic because Sophie’s probably hearing all of this and thinking I’m some narcissistic weirdo trying to corrupt her brother.
I bet she thinks Jared can do better than me.
That’s why she doesn’t seem to like me, right?
She knows how gorgeous Jared is, and also knows Jared is a kind-hearted guy who would probably adopt every stray animal and person if given half a chance, including scarred ex-retail workers who make inappropriate jokes.
The claustrophobic feeling growing inside me has nothing to do with the fact that I’m crawling through a tunnel.
My mind churns as we navigate through the next few rooms. What can I do to make her realize I’m good enough for her brother?
Because I am good for Jared. I’m sure of it.
Not just the sex, but we get each other’s sense of humor.
I can tell when he’s had a rough day and needs me to gently coax him out of it by teasing and laughing.
I know he needs protein after long shifts, so I always have those disgusting energy bars he likes stocked in my kitchen.
I remember which episodes of Getting the Goons make him laugh when he’s stressed.
I can tell the difference between his “I need space” silence and his “please distract me” silence.
We come to a massive ball pit that looks like a rainbow exploded.
Emmy immediately dives in, disappearing beneath the multicolored surface like a tutu-wearing submarine.
“Someone has to go in with her,” Sophie says, looking uncertain about wading into the ball ocean herself.
“I’ll volunteer as tribute,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to drown in balls. Wait, that came out wrong.”
Jared snorts with laughter. Sophie looks at me like I’ve just suggested sacrificing a goat.
Note to self: definitely be less weird around Sophie.
I wade into the ball pit, immediately sinking to my thighs. Emmy pops up like a demented jack-in-the-box, pelting me with balls.
“This is war!” I declare, dramatically falling backward. “I’m drowning! Save yourself! Tell my cat I love her!”
Emmy shrieks with laughter, swimming through the balls to “rescue” me. I flail dramatically, making gurgling sounds that would embarrass anyone with dignity.
A little boy, maybe six, wades over to us. “You look weird,” he tells me, pointing at my face. “What happened to you?”
Emmy’s face goes fierce, her hands balling into fists. “He fought a dragon! And he won! So you shut up!”
The boy’s eyes go wide and he scrambles away. Emmy turns to me, satisfied. “I told him.”
“You certainly did. Thanks for defending my honor.”
“Dragons are dangerous,” she says seriously. “You’re very brave.”
I glance up to find Sophie watching us. Something complicated crosses her face before she looks away.
I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.
Is she jealous that I get on so well with her daughter? Surely she should see it as a good thing?
Maybe it just boils down to her not wanting Jared to have a boyfriend?
Whatever the reason, it’s becoming more and more obvious that Sophie really doesn’t like me.
My stomach hollows and I feel like I could throw up.
If Sophie doesn’t like me, then Jared and I can’t work, can we?
Jared will never choose me over his family. That’s not the kind of guy he is. He’s the guy who gave up parties and dating to help raise Emmy. He’s the guy who does Sophie’s grocery shopping when she’s overwhelmed, who spends at least two days a week helping his sister and niece.
If Sophie tells him I’m not right for him, he’ll listen. He’ll start seeing that I’m not enough in some ways and too much in others. The over-the-top jokes, the scars that are hard to look at, the baggage I carry around like a really depressing backpack.
The pasta dinners, comfort TV-watching, and marathon sex sessions won’t mean anything if the most important person in his life thinks he deserves better.
And looking at me through Sophie’s eyes, maybe Jared does actually deserve better.
He deserves someone stable and normal who doesn’t need weekly therapy just to function. Someone without a face that makes children ask questions.
The thought makes my chest feel like someone’s reached in and started squeezing my lungs like stress balls.
All that churning through my mind means I’m already not in a good headspace when we reach the mirror maze.
Oh great. A room designed to show me my face from every possible angle is not exactly what my fragile ego ordered. It’s like the universe saw me spiraling and thought, “You know what would really help? Infinite reflections of exactly what you’re insecure about.”
I can see myself from every angle—every scar catches the weird lighting, creating a kaleidoscope of damaged skin.
Emmy’s spinning in circles, watching her reflections spin too. “There’s so many of me!”
I swallow hard and try to make my voice light.
“Imagine if there were actually that many Emmys,” I manage to say. “The world’s supply of tutus would be depleted within days.”
“I would share,” Emmy says seriously. “Some Emmys could wear dresses.”
I’m trying to hold it together, trying to avoid looking at myself in the mirrors, but there’s nowhere else to look. I’m in a hall of infinite Felixes, getting the full surround-sound experience of my scars. It’s like IMAX for self-loathing.
I try not to hyperventilate as I find my way to the exit.
Unfortunately, the mirror maze is exactly what it states, a maze of mirrors you have to navigate your way through.
“This is trippy,” Jared says, but then he catches sight of my face.
He moves closer, his hand finding the small of my back. The warmth of his palm through my shirt grounds me.
“You okay?” he murmurs, low enough only I can hear.
I take a deep breath. “Just contemplating whether infinite reflections of my face count as cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Come on,” he says, steering me gently through the maze with his hand still on my back, using his other hand to feel along the mirrors. “Follow my terrible navigation skills.”
True to his word, he immediately leads us down a dead end.
Despite everything, I snort with laughter, which turns into a real laugh when he does the same thing again.
And by the time we emerge from the mirror maze into a transition area with non-reflective walls, Jared’s making me laugh about how terrible his sense of direction is. And he continues to make me laugh as we work our way through the rest of the maze.
Will this man ever stop rescuing me?
By the time we emerge from the maze, we’re all disheveled and slightly manic from sensory overload. Emmy’s tutu is twisted sideways, and Jared’s shirt is untucked.
“Is it café time?” Sophie asks. “I need coffee after that.”
“Definitely café and cake time,” Jared says.