The Rom-Commers

by Katherine Center

You had to maximize joy when it fluttered into your life. You had to honor it. And savor it. And not stomp it to death by reminding everyone of everything you’d lost.

I fell in love all the time. Just … nobody fell in love with me back. Fiction really kind of was all I had in the romance department. But that wasn’t a weakness. That was a strength. I had a theory that we gravitate toward the stories we need in life. Whatever we’re longing for—adventure, excitement, emotion, connection—we turn to stories that help us find it. Whatever questions we’re struggling with—sometimes questions so deep, we don’t

even really know we’re asking them—we look for answers in stories.

“Believing in things that aren’t real? Making something out of nothing? Connecting dots that don’t need or want to be connected? That’s what all the best writers do.”

I’m making you doughnuts because I’m grateful that you’re here—for whatever you being here is doing to my life. And I genuinely want you to have a happy birthday.”

“You want to know why you shouldn’t be worried right now?” “Why?” “Because the bad thing you’re worried about is never the bad thing that happens.”

I showed up at the writing table and couldn’t decide if Charlie had put product in his hair—or if it was just wet. If he was wearing aftershave—or if that was just his deodorant. If he was glancing my way more than usual—or just the regular amount. One thing was for sure: There was a bouquet of peonies on the table. “Nice flowers,” I said, sitting down. Charlie looked over, like he hadn’t noticed them. “Yeah.” “Were they there yesterday?” “Don’t think so.” “Any idea how they got there?” Charlie nodded. “We were out of coffee this morning, so I had to hit the store.” “Peonies are my favorite flower.”

Charlie looked up at that. “Are they? I wondered.” “You wondered?” “Yeah. Because you always look at them longingly when we’re at the market, but then you never buy them.” I wrinkled my nose. “They’re like nine dollars a stem.” “So you want to buy them, but they’re too expensive?” “They’re just not the kind of flowers you buy for yourself.” Charlie was quiet a second, and I realized he was suppressing a smile. “I’m glad I bought them for you, then.”

OH MY HEART.

If you wait for other people to light you up, then I guess you’re at the mercy of darkness.