Perfect on Paper

by Sophie Gonzales

Well, excuse me for not being well versed on mansion politics before speaking, ever-so-sorry about that.

“You shouldn’t be so sexist, Philips,” Brougham continued lightly, picking a lint ball off his sweater. “Assumptions like that’ll keep me trapped in the claws of toxic masculinity.”

Everyone wanted to feel like they were worthwhile at the end of the day.

“Thank you. Basically, they’re ambivalent. They want to be close to people, but they’re also really scared of being close to people. And their emotions go all scrambled, and they want to be closer and further away at the same time. Like, if you feel rejected, you want to get closer, but then when it’s all working out, you suddenly feel trapped.”

“Darcy?” “Yeah?” “Why did you come for me?” “Because you needed me.”

There was something special about being seen the way that Brougham seemed to see me. Maybe Ainsley understood me in a similar way, but that was different, because she was my sister. This was someone who was a total stranger to me only months ago, sizing me up and listening to what I said—and listening harder still to what I didn’t say—and somehow correctly piecing it all together to understand me. And maybe he could do that because in some ways, we mirrored each other. We shared cracks in complementary places.

Brougham made me see the best version of myself, the kinder, wiser, more empathetic version I’d always wanted to be.

A few other students sat at the table, along with Hunter and Luke. Next to Hunter sat Finn, who was apparently pleased to see Brougham had rescued me. Now, I guess, all three of us had rescued each other from self-inflicted suffering in varying degrees.

Yeah, yeah, me and my whole generation were heathens, I got it.

“Are you done?” Ainsley called out from the staircase. “I can’t hear weeping or groveling.” “I texted her instead,” I called back, pulling out of the hug. “Oh, great call,” Ainsley said, coming back into the living room. “At least that doesn’t put her in an awkward spot.”

A community within a community within a community. No questions asked. No proof needed. No valid form of identification required. We just belonged because we belonged.

Of all the terrifying decisions I’d had to make this year, among all the missteps and bad calls and failed attempts—agreeing to help Alexander Brougham was the most perfectly right decision I’d ever made.