If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

Somehow, her being annoyed with me only makes her prettier. Flushed cheeks serve her well.

“You all right?” “Yeah,” she says, blinking back. “I have a lot to learn.” “I was serious before. I made a promise to Birdie that I’d help,” I say. She shakes her head. “I don’t need it.” “It’s not an offer. I’m fulfilling a promise. At least let me help during your first couple of weeks.”

Mom romanticized this town so much that it started to feel untouchable. It’s like a little pocket of the universe that existed only in her imagination. A place with the best pumpkin pies in the world, festivals for every holiday, and perfectly breezy autumn weather.

plopped on the ground beside a pumpkin—like she’s a Cabbage Patch Kid emerging from the vegetable birth canal.

“People smile around me more.” “You’re a good person to smile around,” Cliff says, taking a bite.

Cliff randomly laughs and squints at me. “So, do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” My head jerks up. “Hmm? No.” He pops his lips. “Fair enough, then.” “That’s it?” He pushes the heel of his palm into the dough and shrugs. “Well, if you want to keep it to yourself, that’s your business. Not mine.” I open my mouth, then shut it, trying to process this new logic. This is so different from how Allen insisted I talk. Now when I tell Cliff that I don’t want to, he lets me exist in the way that makes sense for me. I don’t know how to handle that type of understanding. Ironically, it makes me want to talk more. Maybe that’s what Cliff wants. Maybe it’s reverse psychology. But something tells me it isn’t. “Actually, yes.” I change my answer. “I want to talk about what’s bothering me.” Cliff stops working and slaps his palms together, sending flour up in a cloud. He smiles. “My attention is all yours, Michelle.”

“Don’t do something you think you’ll regret,” I whisper. He shakes his head without hesitation. “I wouldn’t regret this.”

“Ah, screw it.” Cliff sinks his hand into my hair, cups my head, and collides his lips with mine.

“Question for you now, Clifford,” she says, mocking my tone from earlier. I chuckle and raise my glass. “Shoot.” “Do you know you’re in love with my sister?” I sputter into my water, spilling it over the table. I grab the napkin and wipe down the tabletop. “Yeah,” she says through smacking lips. “That’s what I thought.” “That’s not…” I laugh through growing nerves. “We’re friends.” Sara narrows her eyes. “She tells you things she won’t even tell me.” “Okay, we’re close friends,” I amend. “She’s in love with you too, isn’t she?” “No, it’s not like that.”

But in a stern crack of words, Cliff says, “Don’t you dare walk away.” I freeze in place and turn around. “I’m not letting you leave this discussion like that. Let’s talk through this. Stop overthinking what it is you have to say and say it.” He’s trying to stay collected, but the flush on his cheeks is betraying him.

Then, finally, he murmurs against my lips, “I would never say you deserve to be alone. Because you don’t. And I never want to hear you say that again.” I groan into his mouth, rising taller on my toes, gripping strands of his hair in my fists as I press my lips closer, harder. “Do you hear me?” Another muffled kiss. “Never.” He crowds me closer to the wall, pushing his hips against mine, gripping my waist. He kisses against my lips so hard that they might bruise.

And it hits me. I love this woman. I don’t know when it happened. It slipped over me so softly, like the changing of seasons. The seeping scent of baked bread first thing in the morning. A wistful sigh on a perfect fall day.

“I need to go,” he says. He leans forward to murmur, “I’m about to be arrested.”