Page 62 of My Lucky Star
“Why do we have to pay our dues?” Cem asked, sounding like he was somewhere far away. “Isn’t that part of the same huge lie you were talking about? Every time someone succeeds, we ask them about their struggles and pen stories of how they overcame horrible things. If they haven’t struggled enough, we exaggerate.” He looked at me sheepishly. “They’ve done that to me. There’re these sad stories about my childhood in the low-income neighborhood, but it wasn’t that bad. It was just... ordinary. I didn’t struggle that much. But they’re not interested in the parts of me that are ordinary. I’m either the perfect success or the perfect failure. There’s nothing in between.”
“I, for one, am happy you didn’t struggle that much.” The words bubbled up without much thought, from somewhere deep within me.
Cem huffed a soft note of laughter. “Most people want me for my fame, or my story, or whatever I can do for them. They don’t want me... ordinary or even happy.”
I nodded, my throat tight. “Misery sells. But I think it’s also because that story of overcoming adversity is part of our narrative of justice. We elevate some people and then we want to believe that theydeserveto be where they are. And I think successful people want to believe it, too, even more desperately. Because that would mean that the world is a just place – that hard work always pays off and evil gets punished. But it’s an illusion. There’s an element of randomness that scares us all. It’s not evil or unjust. It’s just... random. You never fully know which movie will succeed and whose career will take off, and who’s going to fall ill or lose everything.”
I risked a glance at Cem, my entire body vibrating. I knew I sounded bitter, but I also felt lighter, like I’d cleaned my closet, laying everything out on the bed. All the dirt and disappointment, darkness and despair.
The look in his eyes grounded me. I saw no judgment or shock, only curiosity and that spark I’d come to love, the one that made me feel like nothing could ever be that bad. “You don’t think God has his hand in it all?”
I took a deep breath. “Maybe on some level. I used to think there was more design and pre-determination, or something like that going on. I believed a lot of things and want to believe... but it’s hard.”
A giddy smile spread across his face. “I can’t help it. I feel like this is all meant to be. Us. This place. Even the dick pic, since it brought me here.”
I released a sigh, part of me screaming for that assurance that emanated from him. “Can I borrow your faith for one day?”
“Aria. The game’s not over. You can still win. And then you can join me feeling incredibly lucky and blessed and like you don’t deserve it. It has its perks, I promise.”
A smile burst through, and I raised my hands to my face, hiding behind spread fingers. “You must think I’m deranged.”
“You’re a bit cuckoo.” He dropped his smile, turning serious. “But if you don’t go to this audition, you’re a lot more cuckoo than I thought. It’s not an open casting call. They’ve already met you and invited you to audition. If you don’t go, you’ll be the person who threw away the winning lottery ticket. There’ll be no sympathy, and you give up your right to complain about the injustice or randomness of life. No more speeches. It’d be a terrible loss.” The seriousness cracked and his eyes twinkled with glee. He could have said it mockingly, but his voice held me like an embrace.
I had to laugh. He’d somehow managed to both support my argument and help me off my high horse.
“Thank you.”
“So, you’ll do it?”
“Only to get you off my back,” I grumbled, warmth spreading into my belly. Butterflies, nerves, and all the rest. They were here and I felt more alive than I’d felt in weeks.
Chapter 21
Cem
ISUCKED MY LUNGS FULLof fresh air, feeling like I’d conquered an untouched world that lay at my feet, expanding in every direction. Up here, nothing could reach me – neither my mistakes, nor the expectations of others.
