Page 75 of The Marriage Narrative
Zinnia
Anger always showed up first, locking and barricading the door. No other emotions allowed. But somehow, they managed to slither in anyway.
Zinnia called her friends, who were now side by side on her phone’s screen. She was lying on the bed and holding them close to her face.
“Hold on,” Fiona said. “Let me get this straight: you were nearly assaulted, and you’re mad atyourself?”
She was embarrassed by how loud and wrong she’d been. Thank Jesus she waited to tell Jordan her theory in private. Production would’velovedwatching her make a fool of herself.
“None of this is your fault,” Grace said. “They’rethe ones who put you in this fucked-up situation where youhaveto question everything.”
“You’re a hero, Z.”
She wasn’t. She’d been scared.
“You thought the whole thing was fake and protected Lulie anyway,” Fiona said. “Do you honestly think most people would’ve done that?”
Most people weren’t half as gullible as she was.
“Being kind, wanting to trust people, doesn’t make youstupid,” Grace said. “I don’t knowwhyyou think that about yourself, but you need to stop. Because no one else thinks that about you.”
“You don’t see yourself clearly,” Fiona said. “Sometimes I swear it’s like you can’t for some reason.”
Zinnia needed this—to hear Fiona’s optimistically gentle chiding and Grace’s no-nonsense affirmations. Her friends showed her it was okay to feel and process, helped her truly understand what it meant to bealive. To exist as a person in her complex entirety.
She was an artist with a mean impatient streak, who gave people more chances than they deserved because she had all thisloveto give and was fundamentally incompatible with loneliness.
“They’re going to treat you differently now,” Grace said. “They have to play nice or else it’ll make them look bad.Ungrateful. I’m pretty sure Damon doesn’t have any malicious intentions. I can’t call it on the others.”
Fiona bumped Grace’s shoulder with a meaningful look.
“Neither does theotherone. He’s fine.” Grace looked away.
“Jordan cares about you, Z. He messaged me as soon as the news broke because he wanted to make sure we didn’t panic too. You should try talking to him again.”
She didn’t know that.
Five minutes afterhanging up, all the defensive walls Zinnia had built came crumbling down. Homesickness hit her like a wrecking ball.
She missed her friends being down the hall. She missed her bed. And her pillows. And her cramped, organized room.
Listening to music as she prepared, packed, and shipped hundreds of Find Your Zin orders every Monday and Thursday. Poppingibuprofen to get ahead of the hand cramps from writing so many personal thank-you notes.
The clean smell of her favorite laundry detergent—she used to sit in the living room every Sunday afternoon with a giant pile of their laundry and a brand-new audiobook.
She even missed the passive-aggressive neighborhood squabbles and walking into work before dawn. Those moments of quiet before clocking in, clacking keys, and grumbling, perky voices.
She missed her entire life—the one she’d originally wanted to share with a partner.
With Jordan.
Zinnia wrapped her blankets tighter around herself as she listened to the sound of his footsteps in the hall. She squeezed her eyes closed and prayed for sleep to find her.
All she got were those neon geometric shapes that lived behind eyelids.
How was she supposed to tell him she wanted to go home? She didn’t want to leave him, and she couldn’t ask him to leave with her. He wanted to be with his family.
Thinking about Jordan felt as safe as thinking about her parents and about Grace and Fiona. He washerfamily…but there was also a new feeling, something growing and eager to find the sun.
