Deep Cuts

by Holly Brickley

They were soulful and comfortable and had all the amenities that actually make people happy, like porches and window seats, and none of the things we believed to make us happy, like open-floor plans and living rooms optimized for Super Bowl viewing. They were built for reading and close conversation.

I hadn’t told them certain things about myself, and they seemed to have filled in these blank spaces with lighter brushstrokes.

that all my attempts to grow, to find creative independence and purpose, were at least partly in service of becoming more lovable.

“I live in the realm of the senses.” What an odd thing to say. Later that night, home in bed, I considered what he’d meant. The senses are pure experience, I decided; there is no sense for how things seem, which is what matters to the superficial.

Infidelity is, in this case, probably, your body telling you something you needed to hear. Just forgive yourself, it’s too exhausting not to.

I looked out the window with the phone on my chest for the remainder of the ride, just enjoying the feeling of having Joe to respond to.