If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

“That’s ridiculous.” “Or endearing.” “I’m not endearing.” “I’m endeared by you.”

I distract myself by grabbing my turkey sandwich. He eyes it before quickly averting his gaze. When he looks away, I switch it out for the ham.

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

What is a sisterly relationship if not tumultuous with immediate forgetfulness?

“Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. Men? We want women. Period. Over thirty. Forty. Hell, over sixty. Short, tall, brunette, blond—doesn’t matter. We like them all. Especially women over thirty.” I snort, and he smiles wider, leaning in. “And especially women with gray hair.”

I sheepishly confess, “Men don’t want women like me.” “Like what?” Unfun, too serious, workaholics. “I don’t know,” I mumble. He gives a devilish, absolutely wicked smile. “I think men secretly want women just like you,” he growls, leaning even closer. “And the men who don’t are cowards.”

The world tilts. It suddenly feels like I’m falling through the ground, straight to the center of the earth. God, she’s breathtaking.

But… I like her. My stomach tightens into a hard knot. I like Michelle. I’m attracted to Michelle, which isn’t news to me at all, but this heart-pounding affection…it’s foreign yet so oddly familiar, all at once.

I have a crush on my very unattainable friend.

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

And that—that right there—is the exact moment I know I need to kiss him. Because, despite Cliff taking a risk, he immediately backtracks when he thinks I’m uncomfortable. Because he’s that kind of friend. He’s that kind of man.

I should have anticipated this, but when I asked Sara on a date, all I thought was, If this will make Michelle happy…

I’m halfway through the back door when Carol calls, “Change your shoes if you want her to like you!” I hesitate for a moment on the threshold, and then I shut the door behind me, wearing my same brown shoes.

“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?”

“Because you mean more to me than just a simple, confusing kiss.”

I don’t want to go on more dates. I want Michelle. Not as a friend. Not as a fling. I want her.

Three days pass without Michelle. I’m exhausted. I miss her.

“I want you to be happy and—” His next words almost come out in a whisper. “Have you ever thought I might be happy with you?” I tense, taking in a shaky breath. “You can’t mean that.” “I almost wish I didn’t.” “But you said—” “I say so many things that I don’t know what comes out of my mouth half the time,” he says. “But you do…you make me happy. So, there. I’m stuck in my own damn head with thoughts of you that I can’t get rid of. So, what do I do? Huh? What do I do?”

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.”

“God, I like you so much. I like you when you lash out. I like you when you come up with a thousand reasons to hate me.” He cocks his head to the side. “And when you run to my house to tell me all those reasons. And even when you put up so many walls that even God can’t break them down.”

“I like you because you’re Michelle. And that’s enough.”

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 love Michelle. I’ve loved her for far too long.

“We’re gonna make it work, okay?” “How?” “Hmm,” I muse, pulling her closer. “Well, because you’re a wonderful, stubborn woman, and I’m the kind of man who will pay astronomical phone bills to reach you.”