When Never Comes

by Barbara Davis

Deal with the calamity in front of you. If life had taught her anything, it had taught her that.

At ten, she learned that no address was permanent, at twelve, that no promise was sacred, and at sixteen, that there was no such thing as safe.

there were worse things than being childless—like having a child you weren’t equipped to care for and scarring it for life.

But then, she knew better than most that the face a person chose to show the world wasn’t always the real one. Everyone had a story. Not everyone wanted to share.

“Men like Stephen don’t cheat because they’re missing something at home, Christy-Lynn. They cheat because they’re missing something inside, so they take what they want and make it theirs, because they need to fill up all that empty space.

Integrity isn’t something you have in some parts of your life and not in others. You either have it, or you don’t.

“Maybe it wasn’t about needing them. People hold on to all kinds of things, silly things, even broken things, because of the memories attached to them.”

“How can you not believe in never? It’s just a word.” “No,” Missy said firmly. “It isn’t. It’s all the doors we keep shut. It’s the places we won’t let ourselves go, the things we won’t let ourselves have or be, because we don’t think we’re good enough or strong enough for more. I know because that used to be me. And then I became a single parent, and I realized I didn’t have time for nevers.” She paused, her smile thin and tremulous. “All I’m saying is don’t live a smaller life than you deserve.”

Dreams are like public service announcements from your soul. The only way to get past them is to pay attention to what they’re telling us.

The question made Christy-Lynn squirm. Yes, she knew what she wanted. She wanted to go back, to clean it all up, to rewrite her story without all the dark parts, to unknow the things she knew, to unsee the things she’d seen, to live without her memories, her shame, her regret. And maybe that was a kind of atonement, after all. But none of those things were possible.

She said the word never represents all the doors we keep closed, that when we say never we close ourselves off from the hope that things can ever be different.”

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” Christy-Lynn felt herself flush when she thought of their strained parting after dinner the other night. She had acted like a flustered schoolgirl. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I trust you.” “Then say yes. It’ll be like Thelma and Louise—but without the cliff thing.”