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Unknown Binding
First published January 1, 2017
No one tells you that when you become the victim of a crime you’re the one responsible for cleaning up the mess.
Maybe it was seeing himself in me that finally ended our feud. Or maybe it was seeing himself in me that started it. Once it became clear that he didn’t want me to take over the restaurant and that I wasn’t going to give up, I stopped being his little girl and started being his shadow. We stopped talking the way we used to. We stopped joking. We stopped cooking together. But if he lets me come home, at least I’ll know I never stopped being his daughter.
”I’ve lived in this neighborhood all my life. I know how hard it is for the people who feel invisible, who have to be in order to survive. And I know how easy it is for those people to put their faith in something…in somone who doesn’t deserve it just because he made them feel seen.”
”I keep a running tally of the things that make me uncomfortable, constantly measuring how much something makes me feel anxious or afraid or excited or…out of control.” She twists a strand of hair between her fingers. “And the only way to make that feeling stop is to do something that scares me. I have to knock on a stranger’s door and demand that they turn down their God awful music.” She lowers her voice. “Or I have to ask a cute guy out on a date.”
“So it’s like a game…”
“No.” She looks down. “It’s not a game. It’s…how I survive.”
Tasting and touching and filling each other’s cracks. Needing someone who needs you back. Even if it’s just in this one moment, Pen pressed against me, her hands fighting for an even stronger hold, a deeper kiss. I can feel that she needs it just as much as I do and every cell in my body just wants to give it to her.
”All the money you spent…” She shakes her head. “I don’t even want to know how much. That was the money you were supposed to use to find your dad, wasn’t it?”
My mind races, searching for anything I could say or do that might prove she’s wrong, that no part of this was selfish or cowardly.
I don’t look at her as I say, “Maybe I found something better.”
Courage isn’t a currency and claiming it isn’t a game. The things that scare us aren’t roadblocks but mirrors and bravery isn’t about shattering our reflection but it’s about having the strength to look.
