Wouldn't It Be Nice

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"Have you spoken to Liz at all?" My Mother asks, sitting back on the chair and looking over at me with raised eyebrows.

I swear, this bitch is a witch.

"Matter of fact I have, Mother. Why do you ask?"

"I just had a feeling."

"Mhm. You always have a feeling."

Luckily my phone starts to ring from my pocket, holding it up I break the intense eye contact my Mother and I were engaged in:

Sarah Paulson is calling...

"I gotta take this." Holding the phone to my ear, I walk outside onto the small balcony and close the door swiftly behind me. "Hello."

"Goodmorning sunshine. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, wine is literally the best sleeping pill ever."

"I am well aware, you had one glass like a month ago and you fell asleep in the shower."

"Don't judge."

"Totally not judging." She giggles from the other side of the phone and I feel my heart drop in my stomach. "Do you remember why I'm calling you?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"Well yeah, but I figured you would've forgotten by now." I can hear her smile through the phone, leaning up against the cold railing outside I watch as the city below flutters to life.

"So, what's up?"

"I said I couldn't live in New York with you."

"Wow, we're really just jumping straight into this, huh?"

"I like to be direct, Scout. Especially with you, I don't want to play games." Her tone is serious and her words straight, they fall from her mouth with such grace it sounds like this conversation was scripted.

"Okay, I respect that." A beat of silence passes as I think of what to say. "You said you couldn't live in New York, why?"

"I - I just can't, okay? And I don't want you to think it's because I don't want to but I just-"

"I don't understand, Sarah. You want to, but you can't? If you want to why don't you just do it."

A large sigh falls from her mouth and I imagine her shoulders rising and falling with the stress.

"I don't know, Scout. It's just too much for me, all of this is too much for me to handle."

"All of what?" My heart pounds in my chest as I clutch tightly on the bannister in front of me, the cold metal slicing against my warm palm. "This relationship?"

"Ye- well no. Not exactly." A moment of silence passes. I stare blankly out at the city before me, my eyes stinging from the wind. Knowing if I blink, a flood of tears will fall closely behind.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"Well let me know when you decide if this relationship is enough for you, Sarah." And without a moment's hesitation I ended the call.

Falling backward against a cold wooden chair that  sat closely against the wall, ripping and tugging at the pants on my legs, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Baby, what happened?" My Father asks from the doorway, quickly making his way in front of me.

"Nothing, nothing happened I'm fine. I'm fine, I just need to breathe."

Wrapping his big arms around me, like he used to when I was younger, he pulled me into his chest.

A place I had gotten so used to as a child, a place I knew I was safe.

_________________________________

I had a table read later that day, and put on the bravest face I could for the sake of professionalism. But later that night, I got home, got into an old pair of sweatpants and put on the saddest song I could think of.

Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Beach Boys.

I spent those two minutes and thirty four seconds wondering where I went wrong in these past few months.

Wondering how many of my moments with Sarah were a lie, and how many 'real' moments we had that were all a front for her true feelings.

And lastly, I wondered if that was it, if everything we had was soon coming to an end.

Was all of this was just some big lesson from above about why you don't start off relationships with infidelity?

Was Sarah really not my person, my soulmate, the one I was meant to spend my life with?

And when those two minutes and thirty four seconds ended, and the silence of the night crept in, I didn't cry or weep or yell out to the gods above to show me the way.

I called my Mother, and most importantly, played that stupid fucking song again.

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