Chapter 29 Lucy
Lucy
The next two and a half hours feel like a dream.
As I drive through the dark desert, all I can think of is Marsh’s face, so full of anguish.
How hurt he was, how desperate he was for me to say what he wanted to hear.
Maybe things could have played out differently.
Maybe I could have caved in, cried in his arms saying I’m scared, and he’d have told me it doesn’t matter because as long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.
But that’s not me and that’s not us.
Maybe I did use my career as an excuse, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m not looking for a lifelong commitment or a happily ever after.
I’m the kind of person who believes that yes, cheating or being cheated on is sad, but almost inevitable.
I’m the kind of person who isn’t scandalized by the thought of a couple who’s been together for fifty years falling out of love.
I’m the kind of person who believes the most impactful relationships of your life are the ones that were one-sided.
That you learn more about yourself when you’re on your own.
That relationships are for people who don’t know how to be independent.
When I finally see the signs for Los Angeles, I think of what I’ve left behind.
Something so scary and complex. A maze that I would be trying to navigate my entire life.
People like Julia think they’ve solved the maze; instead, they’ve opened a door to another one.
People like my parents think they solved the maze; instead, they’re wandering around aimlessly, living in it together but not working together.
People like Marsh will forever be stuck in that maze, suffocated by its hedges, waiting for someone to pull them out.
I’m alone, watching from the outside, but at least I can breathe.
“Are you okay?” Jonah gives me another hug.
I took a work-from-home day and brought In-N-Out and Levain cookies to Jonah’s place for lunch.
He and his husband rent a Spanish-style duplex in Silver Lake, so we sit on his patio and stuff our faces with carbs.
We spent the first hour talking about how he sees being laid off as a sign from the universe…
I am not as optimistic. Now we’re at the point in the conversation where Jonah refuses to talk about anything other than my weekend.
“I’m fine.” I look at him through my sunglasses. “I’m just worried about what I’m going to do for the column. I’m thinking I write a few more stories and then create a breakup. It’ll be hard, but I should be able to keep the momentum up until the end of the quarter.”
There’s a look of concern on Jonah’s face. “Girl, that’s not what I meant.”
“Jonah, I’m fine. Marsh and I weren’t even really together. We both knew it was going to end anyway.”
He clicks his tongue. “This isn’t because of Shanna and Sam, is it? Because you’re right, maybe nobody would find out and maybe Eman wouldn’t care.”
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s beside the point.”
“So then why did you break it off?”
“Because.” I sigh. “I don’t want anything serious. I don’t get why men can say it all the time and nobody bats an eye, but when I say it, there’s something wrong with me. It’s just not something I’m looking for right now.”
“Or ever,” Jonah adds.
“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?” I frown. “There are people who don’t want kids or don’t want to get married…How is this any different?”
“Maybe it’s not different,” Jonah responds, shrugging. “I know you have this principle on how you feel about relationships, and I get that. But at a certain point, what are you trying to prove, Luce?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything.”
“I am one of your best friends,” Jonah says earnestly. “I will literally support you with any decision—”
“It sounds like you’re doing the opposite right now,” I say, breaking a piece off a chocolate chip cookie.
“I just want to understand why you’re making certain decisions. You said the L word…” He looks at me with conviction. “This isn’t just another breakup, no matter how much you convince yourself it is. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I say louder than I anticipated. “I’m tired of being told that I’m afraid of something.”
“Then why won’t you let yourself love him?”
I know it’s simply a question, not an accusation, but I still feel tense either way.
“Why do I have to succumb to this idea—this word? So what if I started falling in love with him?”
“Because being in love is amazing,” Jonah says. “I’m sorry, but it is. Did you know that before we met, I would go on dates with a different man every week? I swore off dating for like a year because it wasn’t fun anymore, I felt like shit.”
“You never told me that,” I say. He was already with Elijah when I started working at The Rue, and out of respect I didn’t want to ask about his past dating history.
“I literally was not looking for anything and then met Elijah at a dog park,” he says, and that part I knew because it’s the best meet-cute ever.
“Luce, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but before you know it you just fall for someone and being with them makes more sense than not being with them.
Nothing else in the world matters except you and that person.
Jokes feel funnier, food tastes better, the world doesn’t feel like it’s burning.
You picture your life with that person and suddenly, you’re living on a different frequency.
” He looks at me. “And sometimes it’s awful.
When you’re in that phase where you don’t know how they feel, or when you realize they don’t love you back.
That’s the worst feeling in the world. Heartbreak is unbearable, but once you’re on the other side of it, you’re stronger than you’ve ever imagined.
So, yeah, Lucy. Love isn’t an idea, it’s very fucking real, and it’s really fucking amazing. ”
Jonah waits for me to say something, but I don’t know how to respond.
“I…” I start, choosing my words carefully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t offend me, Luce.” Jonah grabs my hand. “The only person you’re going to hurt is yourself if you don’t at least try.”
There’s a knot in my throat that I try desperately to push down. “I’ve known you for four years.” I look at Jonah. “You’ve watched me go on date after date…after date. Why are you only saying this now?”
“You wouldn’t have heard me.” Jonah’s face softens. “I think you can now.”
I remember the other night and what I said to Marsh, what he said to me. I could’ve written stories with more depth, but I chose not to. I push people away because I don’t want to be intimate. I use sex as a crutch, as a shield because it’s easier if people hate what I do instead of hating me.
I’ve pushed away the one person who saw me. Marsh saw the real Lucy, and he chose me.
“Sometimes I think something’s wrong with me,” I admit.
“I wish it were as simple as me saying, Yeah, I’m afraid I’m going to get hurt.
But I don’t know, it’s so many things. I don’t trust people, I don’t trust myself…
I like being alone, I really believe that eventually people hurt each other…
” My voice frays. That knot in my throat only gets bigger, and a tear trickles down my cheek.
“I don’t think I can face Marsh. I really blew it, Jonah. ”
He pulls me in closer, and I rest my head on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says, rubbing my back. “Maybe this needed to happen for you to realize it’s what you want.”
My insides start to feel heavy, weighing on me like an anchor of a ship. My nervous system erupts until I’m crying. Really crying. The last time I cried escapes me. I don’t cry.
“Jonah.” I sniff. “Is this what a breakup feels like?”
“A real one, yeah.”
“Fuck.” I take off my sunglasses and wipe the sheen of tears along my cheeks. “This sucks.”
“Yeah, babe, it does.” He wipes a hair from my face. “But we always move on. Because we’re resilient, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Jonah—”
“Right?” he repeats.
“Right,” I force out. I’m not sure how or when it happened, this change in mindset. At what point did I allow my heart to open up? “Does it get easier?” I ask.
Jonah lets out a laugh like I just asked the most obvious question in the world, yet it’s a question nobody knows the answer to.
“We think we become immune to it—the vulnerability to get our hearts broken—but we’re still susceptible, just like falling in love,” he says with a pang of regret that his answer couldn’t be what I want to hear.
“Great.” I swallow and then look at him. “Also, did you just make that up?”
“I sure did.”
“That’s profound,” I say, impressed. “I might use that.”
“You’re lucky I don’t write about sex and relationships, or you’d be out of a job.”
“Stay in your lane.” I laugh and then wipe my eyes again. “God, I hate this feeling.”
“At least you know you’re human.” He squeezes my hand and the corner of his mouth quirks. “How lucky are you?”
The next day at work I’m almost numb but at the same time on the verge of tears over everything.
It’s like I’ve opened a water valve that can no longer be shut off.
In a staff meeting, someone shared that while on a trip to Ojai they found an owl stuck on a fence.
While they saved it and brought it to an animal hospital, the story completely wrecked me and I then needed to step outside.
I don’t make progress on any of my stories and make up an excuse to go home early. I sit in bed eating Taco Bell for the rest of the night, and then one night becomes two nights, then three, until I’ve decided to take an entire week off work.