The Mixtape

by Brittainy C. Cherry

I wanted to know what made a person tick. I wanted to not only see them in the sunlight, but I wanted to see their rain clouds too.

Unfortunately, we lived in a world where going deep wasn’t very common anymore. People lived on the surface level, showcasing the happy highlights of themselves.

Crazy how loneliness led people to places they probably didn’t belong anymore.

“Then there is no way we are poor. We have clothes on our backs, a roof over our head, a car to drive, and each other’s love. No one can be poor if they have love.”

Thank goodness for a person’s life story and how it sometimes intermixed with others.

“You’re not weak; you’re strong.”

I’d learned quickly that motherhood meant saying no to yourself so you could later say yes to your child.

My key to breathing was music and lyrics. Music always spoke to me in ways that nothing else ever could. Song lyrics always reminded me that my feelings were worthy of being felt, and I wasn’t alone in my fears. Somewhere out there, another was feeling the same woes.

Asking for help doesn’t make you a failure.

And there he was, folks. My Prince Charming, butt naked, passed out on my daughter’s Disney princess bedsheets.

She smiled, a genuine curve to her lips, and it was clear that I was wrong—that smile was the best feature on her, not her eyes. Still, her eyes took a very close second. But those eyes plus that smile? Phenomenal.

“I don’t know if you meant to do that or if it’s just natural for you, but sometimes you speak, and it feels like you’re creating lyrics to my next favorite song.”

When it rains, it pours, but the rain always stops, and the sun comes out again.

The hardest truth to learn in life was that not everyone loved the same way you did.

Him saying my name sounded like a song that I’d wished he’d sing over and over again.

The oddest thing about life was how something could show up out of nowhere and change everything in a split second of time.

He almost smiled, and I almost loved it.

Those butterflies that Oliver delivered me every now and again? They came back intensely.

“I just get the feeling that someday you’re going to find it—your happy ending. This is just a temporary thing. Your sadness.”

I swore I could almost feel her light through the phone when she spoke about her life.

Emery had that effect on people. She made the saddest souls want to feel better.

If humans knew how damaging words could be to someone’s mental health and stability, then maybe they would’ve chosen them differently.

Every time she spoke, I felt a wave of comfort. Every time she touched me, I felt somewhat okay.

Every time she’d laugh, it felt like a burst of sunlight.

Healing doesn’t walk a linear line; it takes the messy route. I believe that healing comes during both the dark days and the bright ones. It’s not all rainbows. Sometimes healing means slicing open the scars that made you hurt so much before and examining them to fully understand yourself. Why did the cut hurt you in the past? How did it change you into who you are today? What can we learn from the pain of your yesterdays to better your tomorrows?”

True success comes from within. And that success is defined by being able to wake up and have gratitude. That’s the goal. Now, that’s not saying that everything is perfect when you are happy. That’s not what happiness is. Happiness, gratitude, is the ability to wake up and say, yes, some things in my life are hard right now, but I still get to feel good about one or two things. You get to choose joy, even when times are tough.

Every person in this world has a mixtape of sorts, a collection of tracks that defines their lives. Each memory is a song, and they all come together to create a masterpiece. So, tell me about your story. What lyrics, what melodies, live on your mixtape?”

The sight of them interacting, the sight of Oliver playing and letting loose with my daughter, was the oddest turn-on to me. And that, kids, is how I met your father.

He gave me a sly grin, and the amount he’d been smiling over the past few days made me want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. Maybe that was what was different. He was smiling. “You’re smiling more,” I commented, allowing my thoughts to leave my head. “Am I?” “You are.” “I must be in good company.”

Each day it seemed as if Oliver’s words flowed easier when he was around me. As if he were getting out of his own way with his thoughts.

She smiled. I smiled. My gosh, I was beginning to fall in love with that woman’s smile.

It’s easy to have people who ride for you during the peaks, but we want you to know that we are here during the valleys. Especially during the valleys.”

His parents were the most caring and attentive people in the world, and the way they looked at one another and laughed together was what dreams were made of. I wanted that someday—a love that lasted throughout the decades. Those two loved in a way that made other humans swoon in their presence.

“Sometimes family isn’t what we were born into—it’s what we choose,”

“The mourning doesn’t get easier. It just gets quieter.

A piece of advice—find yourself a man who will dance with you even when your heart is broken.”

He smelled so good, like a smoky oak forest. It was in that very moment when I realized that one of my favorite things in the world was being that close to Oliver. He held me as if he wasn’t going to let me go.

she laughed, and my God, I loved the sound.

Emery smiled, and I thought about kissing her. Leaning over, wrapping her in my arms, and tasting her lips against mine.

When I was with her, I felt less confused, less sad. Less lonely.

His large arms wrapped around my frame, and I relaxed against him, breathing him in. We stayed there for a few minutes. Maybe five. Maybe ten. Long enough for me to gather myself. Long enough for me to fall into loving the idea of being in Oliver’s arms.

Healing came in waves,

Oliver: Do you think about me the way I think about you? A few seconds passed before she started typing again. Emery: Depends. How do you think about me? Oliver: Like you’re every single good thing in the world wrapped in one person.

“Yeah. I don’t know how to start this, so I’m just going to say it. I like you, Emery. I like you so fucking much. I like the way you care for others. I like the way you don’t judge. I like how when you’re happy with the meals you cook, you do a little jig. I like how you listen. I like how you love your daughter. I like how you stay around when I’m at my lows. I like how you laugh. How you smile. How you exist. I. Like. You.”

“Because I like you too. I like how you interact with Reese. I like how you love your parents. I like how you look after Kelly. I like how you didn’t give up on your music. I like when you’re deep in thought and your forehead wrinkles. I like how you burn bacon. I like how your smile feels like a secret prize that you share with so few. I like how you smile toward me. I like your laugh. Your good days. Your bad ones too. I. Like. You.”

“Don’t you get it? So much of your beauty comes from those broken pieces. In those cracks is where you shine.”

As I packed, I felt like a damn fool for being somewhat excited about a weekend getaway with my girls. My girls. Fuck, they weren’t mine, but that thought felt good in my head.

I love you, I thought. I love you, I felt. I love you, I knew.

“Oliver?” “Yes?” “Do you feel for me what I feel for you?” “More,” he whispered, inching his face closer to mine, resting our foreheads against one another. “I feel more.”

“Ask me to be yours, and I’ll be yours. If you let me stay, I’ll stay forever.”