Page 119 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
Ridge and I were on a sinking raft.
If I’d stayed in his life, I would have only dragged him under.
January 11th
My therapist encouraged me to start thinking about my future. What did I want? Where did I see myself five years from now? Popping popcorn at the Cinemark?
Maybe… maybe I really could chase a dream.
I applied to UT Dallas. If I get accepted, I’d have to start over. I never finished that first semester at community college, so I had no credits to transfer.
But starting over sounds pretty good right now.
We celebrated Wren’s third birthday with a unicorn cake and a trip to the aquarium. Her favorite exhibit was the penguins. All she wanted to do was watch them swim.
She’s growing up so fast. She calls me Evie now, not E-bee. I kind of miss the days when she couldn’t say her V’s properly. But then again, I wouldn’t want to go back to that life.
There’s only one thing I really miss about it. A person, not a thing.
Last week, out of the blue, Wren asked me when she could see Big Bird again. Ridge was so good to her. It was so cute how he used to carry her around and obey her every command.
One time we went to a Sunday family dinner, and Wren sat on Ridge’s lap to eat.
Jude said, ‘She has him wrapped around her cute little finger.’
Lila winked and said, ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall.’
February 12th
Today is Ridge’s 19thbirthday. How is it that we’re still so young??? I feel like we’ve lived a thousand lives already. I picked up my phone to call him like I’ve done a hundred times before. But then I remembered that he’s not mine to love anymore. It would be unfair to barge back into his life and wreck it again. So in the end, I didn’t call, and I didn’t text. I just wished him a silent Happy Birthday, and I smoked a joint in his honor.
I got the weed from a guy I work with. A 26-year-old stoner who says he’s content living in his parents’ basement.
Hey, dude, I’ve got benefits, plenty of weed, and an Xbox. What more could I want?
It made me sad and pissed me off. Like, dude, is that really all you want from your life?
But who am I to judge? Only an hour ago, I was hiding out behind my aunt and uncle’s shed, smoking a joint and trying not to get caught. Probably for the first time in my life, I felt like an actual teenager. I laughed at the moon and pictured Ridge the night we met in the junkyard. Me, armed with my crowbar and him with his baseball bat and a bottle of his brother’s whiskey.
God, I miss him.
March 8th
It’s 240 miles from my house to Ridge’s college. I’m only saying this because I could have sworn I saw him today. I was sitting in the window of a coffee shop downtown when I saw him coming out of the Cantina & Grill.
He was riding a Harley, and a girl hopped on behind him. I didn’t really get a good look at her. A brunette. Maybe a blonde. It didn’t matter. Before I could fully process it, he took off down the street.
And I thought, Well, good for him. He’s moved on.
But what would have ever made me think he wouldn’t?
April 10th
I broke down the other day. I guess to heal, I’m supposed to let myself grieve. I’m supposed to let myself feel my emotions and deal with them instead of shoving them deep inside like I used to.
I told my therapist, “My mother always told me I was nothing special. She blamed me for ruining her life.”
“How did it make you feel when she said those words to you? Did you believe her?”
