Everything's Fine

by Cecilia Rabess

Why did her success have to be predicated on perfection instead of, say, a vague sense that she was someone people would like to have a beer with?

“You know it doesn’t matter, right? Do you ever look up at the stars”—he looks up at the stars—“or, I don’t know, consider the universe, and think that’s all it is? Bullshit? Pointless bullshit? None of it matters.”

“Oh, Jess.” He looks at her sadly and reaches for her hand. “You’re not small to me, you know that, right? To me, you’re… everything.”

But I’ve learned, Jessie, that sometimes it’s better to be happy than right.”

“And there’s a certain harmony to the game, everything different or everything the same. I like the idea that there are more winning combinations when all the cards are different than when they’re the same.” He looks up. “Do you know what I mean?”