Page 75 of Clichés & Curses

I remembered that day like the back of my hand. I hadn’t wanted to bother anyone about me, when they all had their own set of problems to deal with—the after-effects of the divorce. Mom and Dad had already started to live separately at the time, so we didn’t get to see them together any more, the idea of a picture perfect family remained only a memory.

I wasn’t sure what had come over me that day, but my mind was on a reminiscent mode as I flipped through our old photos. Everything I had concealed up to that point just burst out of me like a broken dam—the tears, the screams, along with every pent-up emotion.

I hadn’t noticed that Eliza was watching me, until I felt her arms wrapped around me. I tried stopping the tears, but she just kept holding me tighter, a silent message to just let it all out: all the sadness, the anger, every single emotion I had kept to myself.

The next few months—years even—were spent not only navigating the physical aspect of the divorce, but also its emotional aspect, understanding why my parents’ marriageended in that way, while also acknowledging how I felt about it, instead of pushing it aside.

And every time I felt confused on having certain emotions, Eliza had always been there to reassure me that it was okay, that vulnerability wasn’t a weakness, but a strength.

I did end up rebuilding my relationship with both of my parents, and even opened up to them on how I felt about the whole situation and how it had affected me emotionally. The first step of it all was to have enough courage to let myself be vulnerable to people.

It’s still something I struggle with even today, but I’ve been blessed to be surrounded by people who were patient enough with me through it all.

And it’s all because of the person sitting across from me.

‘Hard to believe that it was more than a decade ago,’ I told her.

Our conversation took a pause when the waitress came back to our table at that moment, asking us if we wanted desserts. In between bites of the cake we ordered, Eliza said to me, ‘But I do have another question though.’

‘What is it?’

‘If I’m understanding correctly, the thing that’s holding you back from going out with Colton is the whole Colton being a cliché love interest and the curse thing,’ Eliza stated.

I gave her a nod, taking another spoonful of cake.

‘So, what if that wasn’t a factor? What if Colton wasn’t the star athlete, would you go out with him?’

There it was.

The million-dollar question.

The question I had avoided each time my mind started to wonder about the curse and the what-ifs.

I stayed quiet as I contemplated her question. All this time, my reasoning on why I couldn’t be with Colton was because of the cliché of him being a star college baseball player. Since that wasunchangeable—at least in the foreseeable future—I had never entertained the possibility of a situation where it didn’t play a role.

‘I don’t know,’ I said, shocking myself with the answer, as I admitted it to myself for the first time.

I always thought my immediate answer would be yes, that the only reason why Colton and I couldn’t be together was because of the curse. I never thought there would be something else that was holding me back from fully saying yes, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it was.

But based on the look on Eliza’s face and the familiar smile on her lips, it looked like she knew the reasoning behind my confusion. ‘It seems like the curse might not be the only thing holding you back then.’

‘Even if it wasn’t, there’s no point in thinking about it, when the reality is he’s still the star baseball player,’ I pointed out.

‘Okay, okay,’ Eliza said, her voice teasing as she put her hands up in mock surrender.

I pinched my eyebrows at her. ‘What’s with that look on your face?’

‘What look?’ she deflected, trying to look all casual.

‘That one,’ I replied, pointing my spoon in her direction. ‘You have this look on your face. Do you know something I don’t?’

‘Maybe.’ She shrugged.

‘Well, tell me.’

‘Nope,’ Eliza shook her head. ‘You need to figure this out on your own.’

I groaned. ‘I hate it when you do that.’

---