A Holly Jolly Ever After

by Julie Murphy

“Yes,” I said, eager to be a good therapy student.

how strange was it that I used to think of sex like I was giving parts of myself away? Because there was nothing subtracted here, nothing stained or marred. There was only Kallum and me giving gifts to each other—the same gift multiplied many times, the same gift made more and more wonderful by our sharing it together. And what if this was virtue? What if this was purity?

And for the first time I could remember, I had let myself be truly angry. I had let the anger burn away the idea that I needed to be perfect in order not to be hurt, because even imperfect people didn’t deserve to be treated like trash cans.

all I had left in this world was naps. And sleeping in. And going to bed early. And more naps.

“I saw your text and yes, I know it was from months ago, but I fucking hate having a phone.

His warmth and sweetness were sometimes almost painful to me, in a way I couldn’t even explain to myself. They made me feel worthy and unworthy at the same time; they felt like gifts when I’d given nothing in return.

Because it makes me wonder if everything is fake, in the end. If no one actually gets to live out the fantasy of the loyal, loving family. And I’m thirty-two, and it’s time I just accepted that.”

she wasn’t ready to count on someone who also wasn’t ready to be counted on.”

“Relationships shouldn’t be like high-pressure sales meetings. You shouldn’t feel obligated to say yes to a time-share just because they gave you free champagne flutes.

But having people who were supposed to love you put conditions on that love . . . Well, it wasn’t the kind of parent I wanted to be.

I’d been so afraid to give him grace because so many people in my life had been grace-eaters—they’d devour any grace I’d given them and still needed more and more, endlessly, eternally. But Kallum devoured nothing. He gave and gave and he tried.