Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

Must be fucking nice because I’m ready to crawl right out of my skin. People sneezing without covering their faces, babies crying, the smell of stale bagels.

“Oh, tonight? Tonight is just our meet-cute. It’s the night we’ll tell our kids about one day. Remember?”

To the outside observer, it would appear that I’m staring at the guy I showed up here with. But they would be wrong. I’m staring at his dad.

“Easy, girl. Don’t eat too much.” Easy, girl? I pause, my brows furrowing as I stare down at the two bite-size pieces of food on the napkin in my hand, wondering if I misheard my “boyfriend.” Did he really just tell me not to eat too much? “The fuck did you just say to her?” Bash’s voice is cold as ice from across the table.

“You know what’s complicated?” Tabby’s head rolls toward me. “Life. Life is complicated. And short. Gwen, life is too damn short not to wade through all the complications.

It hits me, as I enter my room, that we’re both scared. Afraid we’re not enough. We live in fear of the same type of rejection, and eventually, one of us will have to take a chance or this ship is going to sail.

“Obviously, he really fucked with the way I saw myself. Nothing I did was ever enough. And the feeling that no matter what I did, my body was fair game for commentary—for notes and feedback—was inescapable.”

“Sometimes when you’re paralyzed like that, it’s not because you don’t know what to do. It’s because you know exactly what to do. You know what’s right, but it scares you. It’s not indecision. It’s being grown-up enough to know that the world doesn’t revolve around you. There’s so much in there at play.”

“And, Clyde, no matter what, while I’m up there, I promise to fly over your place. I’ll check, okay?” “Okay,” he says, voice cracking with emotion. “But, Bash?” “Yeah?” “Find Gwen first.”

“Hi. I’m Beau. Here to help you out. What do you say we get the hell off this mountain?”