Sabrina #2
“This is strangely cathartic. And a great workout.” I chugged my water, then scanned the barn, taking it all in.
“Next time we’ll shoot the shit,” Frankie said with a feral grin. “Nothing better than watching stuff explode. Or firearms.”
I only had vague memories of Frankie as a kid, but I knew enough about her to know she wasn’t kidding.
“Is it bad that I think I like him more now?” Stella sighed.
“Yes,” the three of us said in unison.
“I will key his car for you,” Frankie offered.
“Or we could just get him recalled and thrown out of office,” Nina drawled.
“No. No.” Stella shook her head, and those blond curls loosened. “Nothing like that.”
“You don’t have to defend him.” Frankie’s expression darkened. “The guy has strung you along since you were in middle school.”
“He hasn’t, though,” she argued, a crease between her brows. “He’s just been nice. And he’s nice to everyone. I should have realized it sooner. I made a fool of myself when, in reality, he’s always treated me the same way he treats Bitsy Bramble.”
“Going after what you want is never foolish,” I chided. “Though your choice of man? Foolish. You can do way better.”
“Why did he finally grow a set of ovaries and tell you?” Frankie asked.
“He said he’s been doing a lot of thinking. And that he’s developed feelings for someone,” Stella explained.
The water I’d been in the middle of swallowing went down the wrong pipe, and I coughed violently.
Frankie slapped me on the back so hard I think she bruised a rib.
“Sorry,” I eventually croaked. “Go on.”
“He said that while processing those feelings, he realized he was being a coward and that I deserved honesty and clarity. Not someone who avoids hard conversations.”
“Wow. Self-actualization is pretty hot,” Nina said.
Her sister growled at her.
“Sorry.” She held up her hands. “But a man who can admit to being a coward out loud is more evolved and therefore impressive.”
“Who’s the woman? Who does he have feelings for?” Frankie asked. “Do we know her?”
Stomach clenching, I focused on taking small sips of water. This had nothing to do with me. It couldn’t. So why did I want to know every detail of what he’d said to Stella?
“He didn’t say who. And it doesn’t matter. He said he has no chance with her, but that it just made him reevaluate things,” she explained.
“Good,” Nina added. “He deserves to know what rejection feels like.”
“I hope you realize this has nothing to do with you,” Frankie said. “This is about him and his own shit. You’re beautiful and amazing. And someone amazing will come along.”
Stella nodded, her cheeks going pink with what looked like hopefulness.
I shifted, tempted to help but hesitating because my brand of help wasn’t in the empty platitude department. I wasn’t her friend, and she didn’t even know me. I should keep my thoughts to myself.
But once again, my mouth had a mind of its own. “Can I offer a counterpoint?” I asked.
All three of them looked at me, and that hopefulness on Stella’s face made my chest tighten.
“Would it be so bad if you didn’t find someone?”
Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a surprised O.
“It’s a therapy exercise for anxiety,” I went on.
“Picture the worst-case scenario. What’s the worst outcome you can think of?
Now consider what it would look like if that happened.
How would you feel? How would your life change?
These questions can apply to lots of things.
But…” I took another sip of water, my mind already seven steps ahead in this argument.
“Let’s say, for argument’s sake, Mister Perfect Big-Dick Millionaire never comes along,” I said, and was met with a round of snickers.
“And you just live your life,” I continued.
“What would that look like? How would it feel?”
Stella stared at me, her head tilted in thought.
“You have a job you love,” Nina said.
She nodded. “Yes. I love it so much.”
“And you have an amazing family,” Frankie added. “Very few people have that.”
“I do. And great friends.”
“Tons of hobbies. You’re never bored.”
“See?” I said, gaining steam. “What if the worst-case scenario is that you live a life filled with fulfilling work, friendships, and family? What if you have the freedom to do whatever the hell you want? You could travel, have ten cats, pierce or tattoo every inch of your body and eat cheese for dinner every night.”
“Sounds epic,” Frankie muttered.
“All the princess movies we watched as kids and all the media we’ve been fed our whole lives taught us that we should center our lives around men. That we should be waiting around to be chosen,” I explained.
“It’s bullshit,” Nina groused. “Your life isn’t incomplete if you don’t fall in love and live ‘happily ever after’ for eternity with your soulmate.”
“Exactly. I’m thirty-five, and I have never even been close to being in a loving, fulfilling relationship.
” I lifted a shoulder. “It’s not in the cards for me.
So I choose myself. Maybe someone amazing will come along one day, and if so, that would be great.
But if not, I’m happy with the life I’m leading.
My advice to you is to choose yourself. Invest in yourself. ”
“Yeah. Don’t pin your hopes on some guy and follow him around for the next twenty years.” Frankie barked a laugh.
“Hey,” Stella said.
She only shrugged unapologetically.
The blonde frowned. “I know. I just hate how it sounds.”
“Which is why, starting today, you can choose differently,” Nina said. “What do you want out of life?” she asked her friend. “Deep down?”
Stella did the thoughtful head tilt thing again. She was so pretty and had such a good heart. How sad that Gabe had rejected her. Sad, but also… a relief? She was way too good for him anyway.
“I want to throw axes until my arms hurt and then go home and watch trashy reality TV with no bra on.”
We broke into cheers, then got down to business again, throwing axes and laughing until we were exhausted. Then we headed home.
The whole way to my mom’s house, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d learned.
Gabe had let someone down. He’d been honest about what he wanted at the expense of another person’s feelings. He’d prioritized honesty over being liked.
It was messing with my head. He was an inauthentic politician with a pathological need to be adored. The guy for whom everything was effortless.
Yet he’d made an effort.
Because he had feelings. For a woman.
Nausea hit me again. What if the woman in question was me?
Or worse, what if it wasn’t?