An Echo in Time

by Boo Walker

But he likes the best of her, and she’s tired of pretending. That’s the way it’s always been with men. She’s into it for a while, but eventually it fizzles. All that work of being your best self gets old.

he likes the best of her, and she’s tired of pretending.

But then he got naggy, telling her she was the greatest thing that ever happened to him.

She loathes her childish behavior, but it’s coming up from her core. There’s something about her turning into an asshole that makes life hurt less.

hands that could undress her and touch her with tantalizing skill. Even more, she’ll miss his arms around her. Had he not brought his mother into the equation, they could have had a little more time together. Maybe if she were a different person, they could have had a lot of time together.

“What do you want me to say? I should have warned you.” God, they always have to sink their teeth into you at some point, as if a man must conquer you and own you and put a leash around your neck. Why can’t they be okay with having some fun and then moving along? Men are best rented and not owned.

“You and I could be good together. But you’re trapped in this . . . this . . .” “This what?” “I don’t know what,” he says. “This . . . darkness. This thing where you don’t allow yourself to be happy. We could be great together, but you’re not letting us. It breaks my heart to say it, but I think I’m done.”

He retracts the steady hands that will never touch her again.

“Once you get to know me, I’m not so pretty, am I?” He looks flabbergasted. “Do you hear yourself talk? You have to stop. Yes, you’re beautiful. You’re smart too. Brilliant, even. I love our conversations. And you’re fun to be around when you let yourself off the hook for a moment. You make me laugh more than anyone. God, I’d love for us to work out. But you’re not ready. Tonight was another example of that.” Silence fills the room. In a way, she does feel freedom. He’s right. The worst part is almost over. There’s so much trying.

He doesn’t want her; he wants a better version of her.

It’s almost like you don’t think you deserve a good man.”

What, you want a white-collar criminal who drinks too much? Doesn’t give orgasms and leaves the seat up? Why would you want that?”

I realize now that it’s best to undercompensate when it comes to men.”

I’m happy in my unhappiness. No, that’s not true. But I’m happier accepting what is, as opposed to spending my whole life chasing a carrot that I’ll never catch.”

“Talk about metaphors,” Viv says. “You’re surrounded by the answers, but you’re not listening. Those red lights? You’re the one attracting them.”

You’re funny. You’re awesome when you let your light shine. You’re beautiful, Charli. You’re all the things. Guys are desperate to break through your barrier, but you’re not letting them in.”

An unwarranted tear is coming,

That’s the way she is. Never in shock, always moving forward, fixing the situation.

her mother was always on her best behavior, showing the side of herself that Charli wished were the norm. Funny—or maybe not so funny—Charli and her mother had that in common, an ability to behave and be their best for a while.

Her friend gets real, which is another wonderful trait

the idea of not being wanted by her mother stung.

“So . . . what’s going on?” he finally says, his breath turning to fog. “Oh, you know.” She tries to inject some happiness into her tone, but it’s so hard around him.

Despite the beauty of the terrain and the sensational weather they’d been enjoying lately, he couldn’t quite get away from the discomfort the four of them created in such a small space.

His frustration with the place where his desires clashed with others’ expectations had led him toward rebellion lately.