If You Hate Me

by Helena Hunting

Canadians like to bitch about the six months of snow and subzero temperatures. We also like to moan when it gets too hot. There’s really no pleasing us.

“I get it. I get why you said no,” he tells me softly. “I just wanted you next to me. I hated last night. I didn’t want you to have to listen. I won’t be with anyone else while I’m gone. I haven’t and I won’t. I don’t want anyone else. There’s only you, okay? You’re the only one.”

Sure, I like being inside Bea. But I also like being around Bea. I hate when she’s upset, but I like buying her treats, even if I have to drive an hour to get them. I love watching her eat cake. And feeding it to her. She takes tiny bites and saves the icing for last. She makes little happy noises.

Two stupid tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. Tally’s arms come around my waist first. Then Hammer’s and Hemi’s. “Men are idiots,” Hemi says. “Tristan’s a dick,” Hammer says. “Maybe he’ll realize he’s in love with you, too,” Tally says. Bless her sweet, innocent, observant heart.

My vagina is confused, but my heart is happy.

Between rounds of I’m-sorry-for-being-an-emotionally-repressed-idiot-thanks-for-taking-me-back-and-I-love-the-fuck-out-of-you sex, I told Bea about what happened with Nate and his long-term girlfriend and how it seemed to be the thing that pushed me over the I-can’t-deal-with-my-feelings-so-I’ll-just-implode-my-relationship ledge.

I can see my future unfolding with Bea. For the first time in my life, I understand what home feels like. It’s not a place for me; it’s her. She’s where I want to be. She has my heart. Bea is the person it beats for.