Rom-Com Heaven

3

I'm sitting in the living room at my parent's house - they've planned a special lunch, since my sister is here. I stare at the ground. Blue carpet, rough with protruding wooly strands. The scent of gravy floats on the air, mouth-watering, but it can't compare to that field of strawberries.

Shirley Barnaby Rose. You beauty.

"I swear you look like you're contemplating murder." My sister is sitting on an adjacent couch, sipping from a mug of hot chocolate. The other members of the family are in the kitchen, preparing roast chicken and potatoes.

I look at her, smiling. "Do I?"

"Yeah. Happily, too. What you thinking about?"

"I..." Oh, I might as well say it. "I think I'm in love."

My sister rolls her eyes. Violent annoyance tingles across my skin with the gesture, but I hold it away from my face, so she can't see it. She slurps another sip of steaming chocolate. She's not even looking at me - her gaze lays fixed against the floor.

"What's her name?"

"Shirley Barnaby Rose."

"Wow, you included a middle name there. You must be serious."

I laugh, nervously. "I think I am... I know I am."

"How long?"

I rub my hands together. "A while." Wow, saying it makes it a hundred times more real, pulsing through my arteries like hot wine.

"A while dating or a while in love?"

"In love... I'm not dating." Oh, Lord, that was a mistake to say.

She heaves a massive breath into her chest, and lies her mug on the coffee table. She turns to me, meets me squarely in the eyes. My gaze falls limply to the floor.

"Ah," I hear her say. "Look, I know what I'm talking about. Love is not the same as a crush. A crush can feel hella real, but it isn't love. I know that now." Then she adds, "Christ, I feel like I'm lecturing a kid - not insult to you, by the way. Do you even talk to her often?"

"I talked to her today."

"Often," she emphasizes.

I pause. Shake my head. "But it doesn't MATTER! Susan, I can feel it in my bones. This is real. I haven't had a crush like this before."

My sister raises an eyebrow. "Have you taken pictures of this Shirley like you took pics of that girl in high school, what was her name now? Jane Jackson."

I pause. "No."

"Are you sure?"

I pause again, my breath feeling hot against the inside of my chest. Then I finally meet her eyes, firmly. "Yes, I did. But this is different. This is true love."

My sister palms her eyes. "Oh, God help me. Don't you see how that's wrong? Was it with her permission?"

"No."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You're twenty-six. You can't go taking pictures of women without their permission simply because you like them."

"It's not liking. It's loving."

She sighs. "This is why I hate rom-coms - of which you have watched way too many, by the way. The guy always stalks the girl, and-"

"-and they always end up together!"

My sister shakes her head. "That's in the films - formulaic, culturally immature movies. Jesus. I'm not saying you can't have a crush, brother. What I'm saying is you can't go stalking and taking candid pics of women just cuz you find them attractive." She pauses. "Why don't you ask her out?"

I shake my head. "She'll never say yes."

"You don't know that. Just try."

I shake my head. "I can't."

"Brother, why not give it-"

I lurch to a stand, staring down at her. "I CAN'T, OKAY?"

She jumps back, raising her hands with the palms faced towards me to show she doesn't mean harm. As if I'd let her harm me. I take deep breaths, and settle back into my couch. My sister takes back her mug, and slurps a sip. I prickle of annoyance runs up my neck.

I sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Bloody well should be." She studies me - I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She studies me like a hawk studying its prey on the ground far below. "You still have bad memories of the Jane girl, don't you?" she says. "She was a shit person, humiliating you like that in front of all those people. Wasn't your fault."

"I won't ask Shirl... Shirley out."

"Okay." She shrugs. "So long as you don't stalk her either."

I don't answer, rubbing my fingers so harshly my knuckles turn white.