Page 64 of The Summer Request
What was her problem? Why wasn’t she more relaxed after her long, luxurious trip?
Was it because her friends weren’t speaking to her? Was it because her soon-to-be-ex-husband wasn’t fighting her for the music rights? There was no way he was giving them to her just to be nice.
He probably thought the songs were worthless. Just like her friends thought her songs were worthless. They thoughtshewas worthless.
Who was she kidding? She was worthless. She was a washed-up nobody with no prospects, living in a stinking third-floor apartment that smelled like old. She wasn’t even allowed to have a cat, and she desperately wanted a cat.
She was completely and utterly alone, lashing out and attacking anyone who hinted at the truth of her reality.
It couldn’t get any worse than this.
April 8th, 2022
Dear diary,
Today is my fiftieth birthday and I have no one to spend it with. I know there’s no one to blame but myself.
I’m getting more used to the idea of being divorced, but not to being alone. Lou and I spent so much time apart that it was almost a natural progression for our relationship to end.
I don’t blame him. We grew into our own lives, lives that didn’t have room for each other. Why can’t a twenty-seven-year marriage be seen as a success? Just because it didn’t last forever?
I know I am the master of my fate. I hear this mantra. I repeat it. I need to own it.
It’s time for me to admit I am unhappy. I have no one to blame but myself, and I’m not looking to throw a pity party, diary, but I don’t know how I ended up here.
Somehow, I haven’t been able to pull myself out of this slump. My days all blend together. I wake up alone, I eat alone, and I go to bed alone.
Some of my friends from Emerald still reach out. They want to talk, want to visit. How can I, though? I don’t want them to see me like this. I’m not part of that community anymore. That’s Lou’s thing. It was always Lou’s thing, if I’m being honest.
I’ve gone so long without being honest with myself. I don’t have a “thing.” I have nothing and no one. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true! What have I spent my life working toward? To this? I am so ashamed. I can’t talk about it. I can’t even leave the house…
All this time I told myself I was living the life of my dreams. Now I know that’s not true. The reality is that I hid behind the safety of Emerald. It was never my dream to build the Emerald Way to what it is today, not really.
When was the last time I helped someone, truly helped them? If only I had dared to think of things for my own life. If only I’d dared to dream.
I’ve decided my shameful moping needs to end. Today, on my fiftieth birthday, I am giving myself the gift of honesty. I am unhappy, this is true.
But I can fix it! I can! I found a group called the Rock Bottom Dreamers. They help people who have hit their rock bottom to find their dreams again. Simple enough, right?
It makes sense to me. Today I took the first step and made an appointment with a guru. I am not giving up. I am starting over. Wish me luck!
- Justine
Twenty-six
Outside was quiet. Too quiet. Michelle sat upstairs in total darkness. She’d turned off the lights so Lou couldn’t see her.
After a moment, she looked cautiously out the window. Lou was gone. He’d stopped attacking the doors and disappeared.
Or maybe he’d found a way in?
Shoot. Why had she gone to the second floor? There was no escape from there.
The sound of a car rolling down the driveway drifted in. Michelle stared out the window, the sound of her breathing filling her ears.
It was the Mercedes.
Her chest tightened. If only her phone would work. She wanted to call someone, anyone,for help.
