Funny Story

by Emily Henry

“Oh, Daph. Who am I going to be when you go off to college?”

Life, I’d learned, is a revolving door. Most things that come into it only stay awhile.

Thrills and Kills book club

Miles is the other kind. The kind that’s disarming enough that you don’t feel nervous talking to him, or like you need to show your best angle, until—wham! Suddenly, he’s smiling at you with his messy hair and impish smirk, and you realize his hotness has been boiling around you so slowly you missed it.

“I’ve got stuff to do, but if you hear from your ex, tell him I said . . .” He holds up his middle finger. “If you hear from yours, tell her thanks for the new boyfriend.”

“Soulmates?” She laughs. “No. I’m saying your ex is the little boy looking over someone else’s shoulder, trying to figure out if the kid next to him has a better lunch. Only, the lunch box is shut, so even though he knows what his parents packed for him is pretty good, he’d still trade it just to open up that rusty little Batman lunch box.”

“It ain’t about the bag, babe,” she says. “It’s what’s inside.”

If a person lets you down, it’s time to reconsider what you’re asking of them.

“What about audiobooks?” I say. “Does that count?” he asks. “Of course it counts,” I say. His eyes narrow. “Are you sure?” “I’m a librarian,” I say. “If anyone gets to decide whether it counts or not, it’s me.”

You can’t force a person to show up, but you can learn a lesson when they don’t. Trust people’s actions, not their words. Don’t love anyone who isn’t ready to love you back. Let go of the people who don’t hold on to you. Don’t wait on anyone who’s in no rush to get to you.

“There’s steadiness and dependability, and those are great. But settling? Just deciding you already know everything you like and dislike on the entire planet, everything you’re good at, every friend you’re going to make, and every food you’re ever going to eat?

“Somebody recently told me that feelings are like the weather. They just kind of happen.”

“Don’t drop me,” I say, voice fading into the crashing of the water. He swings me into his arms, carrying me outright instead of simply hauling me along. “Never,” he says.

I’m still the woman with too many expectations, and Miles is the guy who panics when they’re set on him.

None of that stuff matters when you don’t show up for the little things, and if you loved me, you’d know that.”

All those moments throughout the days, weeks, months that don’t get marked on calendars with hand-drawn stars or little stickers. Those are the moments that make a life. Not grand gestures, but mundane details that, over time, accumulate until you have a home, instead of a house. The things that matter.

Life’s short enough without us talking ourselves out of hope and trying to dodge every bad feeling. Sometimes you have to push through the discomfort, instead of running.”

The same universe that dispassionately takes things away can bring you things you weren’t imaginative enough to dream up.

Take in the soft musk of books and the hint of pine and something I can’t name but recognize like an old friend.

Things were allowed to be complicated. They were allowed to be messy. We were allowed to disagree and argue and even hurt each other, on occasion, and it didn’t mean it was time to let the revolving door of life carry us away from each other. Sometimes things are hard. They just are.