Dedicated to ThuyAnhNguyen for being the first commenter and supporter of the story, this one goes out for you.
DISCLAIMER: Hi everyone, so I originally wrote this story almost 4 years ago. I was a different person. Definitely a different writer. I really didn't want to finish this story at all, but I couldn't delete my first official book that stuck. So, here I am. Here is the re-telling of the same story but a different spin. Sorry if the comments are confusing because they will reflect different versions of this book, but this will be it. This is THE official version, for better or worse, that I will not delete but only refine from now on. Sorry for the wait if you're an old supporter and thanks for the chance if you're a new reader!
Love: is it a feeling or a choice?
I knew there were definitely days I had to choose to love my sister. Actually, to be perfectly honest, every day was a day I had to choose to love my brat-of-a-sister, Kathy.
Whether I wanted to or not, even if I was a thousand miles away, she was family and as the old adage goes: blood was thicker than any water under the bridge. I probably go the sayings mixed up, but regardless the sentiment still remained.
I tried to remind myself that however, Kathy may seem to act that she only had my best intentions, sort-of.
Take last Friday for example: "Julie, do you get sad sometimes?" Kathy asked me one day on the phone. I remembered because I was particularly struck by the sincerity in her voice. "Mama was telling me she heard from Aunt Beatrice who heard from her sister-in-law's doctor that you can die from loneliness."
Well, that was the end of that brief warm and fuzzy feeling.
"I think I'll be okay," I laughed. After all, I had Petunia, my parrotfish.
"Are you sure? I'm pretty busy planning my wedding, but I can buy a ticket like that," she snapped her fingers across the line, "I learned how to make fried catfish! Mama taught me some recipes to make to feed Preston after a long day of being the youngest elected mayor."
The classic Southern humble-brag.
I did miss home-cooked meals, but Kathy was a disaster in the kitchen. You might as well have set your own oven on fire and save her the time and energy. "Kath, you take the meaning of blacken catfish too far," I snorted. "I'm no Aunt Beatrice's sister-in-law's doctor but think I'll die faster from your cooking than from loneliness."
"I resent that," Kathy said. "I'm a mighty fine cook. Preston said so himself. My food is mayor-approved. Now that's a slogan if I ever heard one."
I wished she could have seem me roll my eyes. "First off, Preston is obviously going to say that because he's marrying you. Second off, he isn't even mayor yet. I heard campaigning doesn't start until next week."
I heard her huff. "Julie, stop changing the subject! I know you're hurting after your little relationship with Edgar ended in peine d'amour."
Kathy listened to a taping of La Vie en Rose once and now she's the self-declared expert of all things French. Who needs the ambassador of France when you have my sister who thinks baguettes and berets are the height of culture?
I don't bother correcting her - it's Ethan - but if the first ten times didn't stick I'm not so hopeful about the eleventh.
"I'm fine, really," I said.
"You didn't even tell me why it ended," she said indignantly.
Deep breath. Kathy, much like my mother, felt like she was entitled to hear every last detail of my life as if me brushing my teeth was the most fascinating thing since sliced bread was invented. At least with my mother, I owed her my life, while Kathy, on the other hand, I owed a scrunchie I borrowed when I was in the tenth grade and she was in the eighth grade.
"It hasn't ended yet," I said meekly.
"Julie Ann Carson, don't tell me you're in one of those friends-with-benefits situations!" Kathy bellowed so loudly I wondered if it broke one of our dad's prized ceramic farm-figurines. "Lord Jesus, help me."
"No, Edgar and I have discussed it over the phone, but we're going to meet in person, exchange some things, and then it's over." I explained calmly despite the uneasiness in my heart. You can say it's over a million times and a million times it'll still be real to you.
It was just something I had to do. It was practical. It was the responsible thing to do in this situation.
So, why did it hurt so much to let go of him?
"Isn't he a doctor?" Kathy asked. "Why would you ever break up with him?"
"Not gonna change my mind, Kathy," I retorted. "Nice try though."
"Free family consultations 24/7 never hurt anyone," Kathy said.
There was a knock at the door.
"That's Edgar. I gotta go," I told her, more than happy to get a break from our phone call.
"I didn't even get to tell you about the flowers I picked yet! Pink camellias, your favorite," she beamed.
Her favorites.
"I love it," I gushed enthusiastically. "Okay! Gotta go now! Love you!"
"No wait!" she said. "You have to tell me how it goes. Actually, call me right after it ends. Unless it's past 11 PM then wait until tomorrow because I need on the bridal beauty sleep I can get. So, how's 6 AM for you?"
"A bit early," I said dryly. "Worms not awake yet."
"Well, I'm booked all day for another dress fitting," she sighed. "What about Wednesday? Are you free around...2 PM? That's 1 pm for you. Can't forget that tricky time difference," she tsked.
"Kath, bye!" I said finally knowing that was the only way to stop her from jabbering on the next 5 minutes.
I rushed towards the door, sliding on the hardwood floors with my socks, to open it to see Ethan dressed in his casual dark wash jeans, black t-shirt, and unruly, post-12 hour operation hair.
"Kathy?" he asked immediately.
I nodded.
"What's the name she thinks my name is today?"
I swallowed hard. "Edgar."
"Do you think I just look like an Edgar?" he laughed gruffly.
"Like she's even bothered to ask me what you look like after I said you were a doctor," I said.
He smiled at that. Even if he had never met Kathy, I could see he already had a soft spot for her.
"Can I come in?" he asked hesitantly.
We had dated for almost two years and now it felt incredibly awkward between us. I fumbled around to close the door behind him as he entered. The apartment was in its usual disarray. I hadn't been sleeping much.
"How was the surgery?" I asked after a length of silence had passed.
"Good, heart is stable. We're monitoring the patient for now," he said before the silence engulfed the space between us again.
"Have you eaten yet?" I asked.
He scratched his head. "An apple when I was showering."
"I'll never get over how you eat in the shower," I laughed. "That's pretty unhygienic, Doc."
His eyes squinted like they did when he was smiling but his mouth stayed in a soft line. "I wanted to talk to you as soon as I could."
"Me too," I whispered.
I had my whole speech planned out. How I loved him but we were better off as friends now. How our relationship was incredibly meaningful for me. How I wished the best for him because that's all he deserved: to be happy. I wanted to tell him I was sorry that this would be the ending of our story but at least we had a good run.
If all this is true then, you may ask, why were we ending in the first place?
"Jules, I have to say this before you do. I know where this is heading," Ethan pleaded. "I get where you're coming from. All your reasons make sense. I think that you just want the best for us regardless if we're together or not."
"I'm glad you're on board with this," I choked. My heart was heavy with tears I refused to let spill. "It's going to make it so much easier."
Part of me was sad that he was willing to go through with it and another part of me, the less selfish part, was glad he thought the same way. Ethan was a reasonable person. Someone who made plans well in advance. Someone who thought out possible scenarios and pitfalls. I loved that part of him that made it so easy to just sit back and relax as he did his best to take care of a situation. That was Ethan. My Ethan.
"When you called me in tears, I knew you made your choice about us, but..." he bent down to go on one knee, "Let me make my choice about us too."
I felt incredibly nauseous.
There was a ring in front of me. A beautiful shiny ring held by a man with an even more beautiful shiny heart.
"I did not expect that," I said incredibly light-headed.
Lack of sleep, lack of eating, loads of stress, and now shock was probably not the greatest thing for an anemic person like myself. I grabbed onto the table with my wobbling knees.
"Hey, sit down," I heard him say in a foggy voice. I think he dropped the box.
Of course, this would happen to me.
I wasn't like Ethan.
I made plans that specifically do the farthest thing from follow through to the end.
"I do not want to wake up with my chest flayed open in an operating room, do you hear me, Ethan Mayhew? Cardiac surgeon my butt," were my exact words before I slipped onto the carpeting floor. My last coherent thought was that I hadn't willed Petunia to anyone yet.
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