Page 65 of Forgotten Comeback
I toss her key on the coffee table, grabbing my toolbox. As I walk out, I turn around—to say what, I don’t know—but Taylor slams the door in my face and locks it. And thanks to my handiwork, it’s a lock I can’t pick.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Taylor
Why do I choose emotionally unavailable partners?
I gnaw on the cap of my pen, contemplating the question my therapist posed.
Because I like problems, not peace?
If that’s the case, I should become a lawyer.
Because I’m addicted to drama?
Not a lawyer, an actress.
Because I like to cringe myself to sleep?
And boy, didn’t Gavin help me with that one last night. The most embarrassing part is that I almost fell for the man’s bullshit.
Because my mood’s stabilized with meds, and I crave the highs and lows?
Damn, if that’s the reason, I need to ride a roller coaster.
Because I don’t know????????
I underline the last one over and over until I’ve torn a hole in the page. Frustrated, I toss the journal and pen on my nightstand.
Sipping my tea, I stare at my gym clothes laid out on my dresser. Working out is undoubtedly good for my mental health. But what’s not good for my mental health?
Gavin fucking Webb.
After getting ready, I drive, not to the gym, but to the boardwalk. Putting in my earbuds, I begin my jog. Each foot forward is a struggle because Ihaterunning.
The pier catches my attention, and I veer toward it. Stopping at the counter, I buy a ticket, and I’m the first in line for the roller coaster. “You ever ridden this coaster?” I ask the tween girl seated next to me as the worker pulls down our lap bar.
“Oh, yeah. Like a million times,” she says confidently.
My sweaty hands wrap around the bar as we begin our slow climb up, up, up, until the ride pauses at the tippy-top.
“Why did I pick the front row?” I cry, gripping the lap bar for dear life.
“Because it’s the best!” The girl holds up her hands in anticipation.
Refusing to be shown up by a twelve-year-old, I hold up my hands.
The coaster accelerates, and I squeal as my seatmate laughs.
Drops and twists and turns, and I’m laughing right along with her when we come to a screeching stop.
“Yes!” I extend my fist, and she bumps mine with hers.
Highs and lows. Check.
Gavin
