chapter playlist ⏯
• the middle - gavin james
• make you feel my love - adele
• poetry - wrabel
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gemmaclark
gemmaclark "wait, today's your birthday?" -my brother, my own flesh and blood
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connormcclain lol happy birthday gemma!!
bradharrison happy bday! the big 20!!
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edithjonesharrison
edithjonesharrison happy birthday to my favorite person!!! there's nobody like you on this planet, gemma, and i'm eternally grateful that i was lucky enough to find you. i'm debating on naming my child after you—that's how much i love you. you deserve the entire world and i hope that this year gives it to you!! love you forever and always, sis❤️❤️❤️
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gemmaclark okay, i'm sobbing!!! i love you so freakin much. but please don't name your kid after me
shawnmendes wow anything that i say will look like trash compared to this thanks edith
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shawnmendes
shawnmendes i know you hate your birthday, but i don't care, because i owe a large portion of my happiness to your existence, and i intend to celebrate that existence. so, happy birthday, gem!!! thanks for changing my life in the best possible way & thanks for just being you. you're my dream girl.
(p.s. this is the first picture i ever took of you and it pretty much sums you up perfectly)
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the next day
gemma clark <<<
I woke up to the smell of breakfast being made. Every year on my or Liam's birthday, my parents would get up early and make a big breakfast, even on school days. And then when they got divorced, whichever one I was with that day kept the tradition. I haven't had a birthday with Dad since Mom died, but it seems like he's still going strong. It's something small, but it really means a lot. Plus, breakfast is totally my favorite meal of the day. Not to mention the most important.
I laid in bed for a little while after waking up. It's nine thirty now, which means it's seven thirty in LA, which means Shawn's not up. Whoever invented time zones kind of sucks.
Liam burst into my room after a while.
"Dad's making breakfast," he said excitedly. This was exciting news, because my dad isn't much of a chef or much of an early riser. Like me. I'm very much like him in a lot of ways, actually.
"Yeah, I know," I replied, stretching my arms over my head.
"Why?"
"Because it's my birthday?"
He looked at me blankly. "Wait, today's your birthday?"
Oh my God, he's so stupid.
"Liam, where have you been? That's like, the whole purpose of this trip," I told him, rubbing my eyes.
"Well, I knew it was coming up; I just didn't know it was today," he replied. How can someone be so oblivious?
"Today's the day, my friend."
"Well, happy birthday, I guess. I'm going downstairs," he said, leaving my room.
Good talk.
I put my glasses on and also went downstairs, figuring I should make an appearance on my own birthday.
"It's the birthday girl!" my dad said once he caught a glimpse of me descending the stairs. He really looked like such a dad—plaid pajama pants, plain white t-shirt, slippers, coffee cup in hand, glasses hung on the collar of his t-shirt.
I smiled weakly. "Here I am."
He hugged me once I reached him. He smelled like he was cooking breakfast.
"Smells good in here," I told him, looking around. My mom used to be the chef in the family, but once they divorced, Dad had to adapt. He's not half-bad now, actually.
"Should be done in a few minutes," Dad said, flipping pancakes on the griddle, making my stomach grumble.
"Oh, and it seems you were sent flowers by a secret admirer," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "A secret admirer?"
Dad shrugged. "They're on the table."
I walked over to the kitchen table; sure enough, there was a beautiful bouquet of roses sitting there. I looked at the little card attached to it.
happy birthday, clark. hope you have a day as incredible as you. love you xxx
love,
your secret admirer
(just kidding—it's actually just me)
I smiled to myself. How does he do everything right?
"So, by secret admirer, you mean not a secret admirer at all—just my boyfriend." I said to my dad, putting the card back.
He smiled a bit. "I know," he said. "That's sweet of him to do that, even from so far away."
I sat at the kitchen table, satisfied with that statement. "He's very thoughtful," I said, brushing a loose piece of hair behind my ear. "And just...puts in a lot of effort, in general. That's sort of hard to find these days."
Dad shook his head. "Everybody's gotten so lazy. And easy. Girls will just throw themselves at a guy who doesn't put in the least bit of effort," he said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "You're not like that, though, because your mother and I taught you that you should never chase after a guy—let them chase after you. Because you deserve someone who will do anything to be with you. You deserve nothing less than that."
I smiled a little at my dad's minor rant. My whole life, I've heard both of my parents tell me numerous times—"Gemma, you don't need to chase after any boys. Let them chase you. The ones who are worth your time will choose to put in the effort to be with you."
I mean, they're not wrong.
There are always those girls who just throw themselves at guys—even in middle school, there were those girls. I was never one of those girls, obviously, but my parents' philosophy was sort of a hard thing to believe, especially when you're like, thirteen. Those girls who threw themselves at guys were the ones who were getting the attention from boys. They certainly weren't looking my way, even with all the incredible qualities my parents so confidently claimed that I possessed.
It wasn't really until I got to high school and boys still didn't chase after me that I realized how right my parents were. Sure, I wasn't the prettiest girl in the world or anything, but I did know that I had a lot of good things about me. I was smart and funny and kind, and any guy would be pretty damn lucky to have someone like me. And if he'd rather have the girls who throw themselves at him, then he was never worth my time, anyway. Most high school boys are like that. I wasn't planning on meeting my soulmate in high school, anyway. I was fine with waiting to meet someone who wanted to put in the effort to be with me. My parents instilled that in me since the beginning, and it seems to have worked out relatively well. I mean, Jake and I had our issues, but I certainly never begged him to be with me.
And I mean, I'll be the first to admit that I have a few confidence issues, but I've never felt like I need to get my validity from a guy. Any guy, really. Loving someone and valuing how they feel about you is way different than needing them to feel a certain way about you in order for you to feel valid in your own identity.
"I know, Dad," I said. "Believe me: he's different than other guys. We haven't been dating that long, but...I don't know. He makes me very happy. He makes me feel like I can just be me. I don't even take my medicine half the time I'm with him. He makes he feel...normal. Balanced."
Dad smiled a little. I wish my mom was here. I wish I could tell them both about how I'm in love and it's incredible.
"As long as you're happy, Gem," he said. "And safe. That's all that matters."
"I am happy and safe. He worries about me enough for both of you, believe me," I told him, which was pretty much true. They're both big on worrying about me. I suppose there are worse things in the world.
"That's good," he said. Then he sighed. "I wish your mom was here. She'd be better to talk to than me."
"Oh, come on, Dad," I said, trying to be jovial to avoid the emotions that talking about Mom would surely bring. "I like talking to you."
He nodded, not saying anything else, and I took that as the end of the conversation. I didn't mind. I didn't want to talk about Mom.
I helped Dad finish breakfast, assisting with my few, limited skills. Then we set the table, placing all the food, silverware, plates, and cups out.
Then we ate, finding different things to talk about. Dad wanted to hear every detail about the whole novel thing, because he didn't understand when I explained it over the phone, and Liam was bored out of his mind.
"I can't believe you wrote a whole book and I only just found out when you said it was getting published," Dad said, shaking his head.
"Well, the only people who knew it existed were Aunt Kate and Shawn, so you were in the majority," I told him. "I never expected the publisher to want to publish it. It was more of a shot in the dark situation."
"So, what's your plan? I mean, after it's published? Will you write another?" he asked.
This is something I've been thinking about a lot lately. What's my plan after this? Keep writing? I don't know what other choice I have. I don't know where this whole writing thing will take me. If it takes me to where I could do it full-time as a career, that'd be great. But I'm not even close to being done with school, so who knows how things could change in two years? I mean, I'm obviously going to keep writing no matter what, but I just don't like the uncertainty of all of it.
"I don't know. I haven't really gotten that far," I said with a shrug. "One second I was just trying to keep my job and keep my grades up, and now I'm getting a book published."
"Well," Dad said, forking some food into his mouth. "Whatever you do, you'll be great at it. You don't have to stress over trying to be a writer while you're still in school and working a job. I would keep graduating as my primary focus if I were you. A degree is your pathway to everything. Everything that you want to do and are capable of, at least."
He looked at Liam, who was minding his own business and eating quietly.
"That's not to say that everyone needs to go to college," he added. "You can make a lot of money learning a trade, like an electrician or a mechanic. Trade school is a whole lot cheaper than college and it's a lot easier to find a job in one of those fields."
Poor Liam isn't dumb by any means. He's average. He gets As and Bs, maybe a C here and there. Not to brag, but I've always been a straight A, great test scores, over-achiever kind of student. And because he lives in that shadow, he thinks he's stupid just because he struggles a little more than I do. When in reality, he's smarter than a lot of kids.
I got Dad's intelligence, while Liam got Mom's charisma. I would trade the smarts for some good social skills in a heartbeat. I'd trade in my knowledge of calculus for some charm.
My mom was smart, but she didn't go to college or anything. She just worked some random, nine-to-five office job that didn't require a degree. She'd paint or write or do something creative like that when she got home. I always turned up my nose at the thought of having some boring job like she did, but she always told me that she didn't really need to find joy in what she did for a living, because she had our family.
She always told me that there are some people who fulfill themselves in their work, and succeeding in their career is what brings them joy. But there are other people who work their job to be able to provide for their families or to enable them to continue their passion, maybe through art or a hobby, and that's what fulfills them and brings them joy. She said she was the second kind of person, and so was my dad. They don't really have a passion for what they do, but they have a passion for their family and being able to provide for them, so they'll do what it takes. I always thought I could be somewhere in the middle, where I felt fulfilled in what I did for a living but also was fulfilled by my home life. Maybe that's just too much to ask.
I don't know. Sometimes the thought of a future after my life right now scares me. Everything is routine now. Even if I don't love it, I know what my day will look like when I wake up—no uncertainties. I like that. I like the structure. It bothers me that I don't know what three years from now will look like.
"I know this is just your way of making me feel better about being stupid," Liam said, looking at his food and not at Dad or I, making me focus on the conversation at hand.
"You are most certainly not stupid, Liam," Dad said sternly.
"But I'm not Gemma smart."
"Not a lot of people are Gemma smart," Dad replied. "She just got lucky."
I gave him an offended look, even though I really wasn't. He's right. It's all genetic luck. I'm just lucky that I was born with the ability to retain information and problem solve and whatever else school makes you do. I was just born that way.
"I didn't mean it like that," he said, looking at me. Then he focused back on Liam. "Look, Gemma's gifted in ways you aren't, and you're gifted in many ways that she's not," Dad told him. "You're both incredibly smart. Maybe not in the same exact way, but you both are. And whatever you want to do with all that intelligence, this family will support you."
My mom and dad were firm on that: Liam and I have the whole world at our fingertips. Anything we want to do, they always said they'd be behind us on it. As long as it's not ridiculous. After watching Dumbo for the first time, nine-year-old me was convinced I was going to run off with the circus. My mom said she supported me in that, but Dad said the chances of me finding another flying elephant were very slim, which almost guaranteed my failure, which meant I would always be asking him for money. I mean, he's right. Good thing I didn't pursue that.
"I think I would make a pretty good garbage man," Liam said, making me chuckle. "Or one of those guys who talks during halftime of the NBA games. You know, like Shaq."
"I think you'd make a great Shaq," I told him. "And you'd be an incredible garbage man. They make decent money, you know. Trash could be your passion."
"Don't have to go to school to be a garbage man," Dad pointed out. "You could get right to it after high school."
We finished our meal after we had discussed all of Liam's future career options, and we all helped clean up.
"What are we going to do on your big day?" Dad asked as he put away the last clean plate, as if I had something elaborate planned out.
"I don't have any plans," I replied. "I would be fine just staying here and hanging out."
"Well, I figured we could at least go out for a nice dinner. Aunt Kate said she can come," he said, making me excited. Aunt Kate is the busiest person in the entire world, and now she has this boyfriend, so we never see each other or really even talk anymore. We went from living together to barely even communicating. It sucks.
"Sounds good to me," I replied. Anything sounds good to me. I love being home and not feeling any stress. That's great in and of itself.
"I don't want your birthday to be boring," Dad said. "What do you want to do? We can do anything you want."
I smiled, knowing that the list of fun things to do in Omaha is short. "Seriously Dad; being here and hanging out with you and Liam is the best birthday celebration I can think of. I just want to relax, you know? Don't stress over my birthday; it's just another day. I just want to be with you guys."
Dad smiled and nodded. "Okay. I get it. We can just chill for a while."
"Yes. Let's just chill," I told him. "You took the day off, and you should just relax."
I coaxed him into his Classic Dad Recliner, and I could physically see the stress fall off his shoulder when he sat down. I sat next to Liam on the couch and he put on a TV show. I was very content just doing that, to be perfectly honest. I wasn't lying to my Dad—this is pretty much the best way that I can imagine spending my birthday. Realistically, I mean. I think being on a beach right now sounds great, but as far as reality goes, this is great.
Well, ideally, my boyfriend would be here, but that's the only downfall.
After about one and a half episodes of House Hunters, my dad was fast asleep. Which is what always happens. I snuck upstairs to my room to call Shawn, seeing that it was a reasonable hour in LA.
me
you awake?
shawn
i was literally just about to call you, i swear to god
me
haha i was just about to call you!!
me
we really are one in the same, huh
shawn
yeah we are. i'm calling you now
Sure enough, my phone began to ring. I answered it.
"Hello?" I said, already smiling.
"Hey," he said. I could tell he had just woken up because his voice was gravelly and he sounded tired. "Happy birthday, babe."
"Thank you," I replied, my smile not leaving my lips. "And thank you for the roses. That was unprecedented and beyond sweet."
"It was nothing," he said. "It's your birthday, Gem. The least I could do was get you some damn roses."
I laughed a little. "Well, your simple involvement in my life is the best gift I could ever ask for."
"It's too early to get all cute and lovey-dovey with me. I'm not in the right frame of mind yet."
"Actually, it's almost noon here, so it's the perfect time for me," I replied. "It's my birthday, so get in the right frame of mind, please."
He chuckled. "Okay, okay. I'll try to get on your level."
"Thank you."
"Also, are you hiding poetry around my house now?"
I smiled to myself. So he found it.
"You found it?"
"Yeah, I found it. You put it in the fridge."
"Good spot for it."
"Whatever you say," he said. "Anyway, I thought it was incredible. Just like you."
I felt my face heat up, even though I was alone in my room. The simplest words make me feel so special.
"Glad you liked it," I replied. I can't really tell if he says he likes my poetry just because he feels like he has to, because he's a good, caring person, or if he actually thinks it's good. Either way, his heart's in the right place. Even though I know it's nerdy and lame, I think he doesn't mind it, and I enjoy it. It's a good way to remind him of how I feel about him, as if I don't tell him enough. I would flip if someone wrote me poetry, so I just thought everyone would feel that way. Jake surely didn't, so I learned my lesson quickly.
I heard him yawn.
"Crazy night last night?" I asked.
He laughed weakly. "Maybe a little," he said, making me curious. I went to bed at eleven o'clock central time, which is only nine o'clock pacific time. I don't know what he did all night. Could've been crazy.
"You being away makes for a lot of really good song inspiration," he said out of nowhere, even though I was still wondering what happened last night.
"Oh, yeah! You can call one 'I'm So Glad My Girlfriend Is Two Thousand Miles Away' and then, in parentheses, 'She Sucks.'"
He laughed. "I didn't mean it like that, obviously," he replied. I knew he didn't mean it like that, but obviously I couldn't just not take the opportunity to make that joke.
"I mean it like...I get a lot of good love songs out of you, ya know, because I love you and all that. But an album full of happy songs is boring, especially because you, Gemma Clark, would vehemently attest to the importance of a sad ballad, but I don't have any...sad inspiration. No pain or heartbreak. Which is good, but bad in this way," he explained. Made sense. I would vehemently attest to the importance of a sad ballad. My favorite songs are sad ballads.
"But whenever you leave, even if it's just for a few days, I can sort of get that sad inspiration again. The feeling of knowing I can't just come over and see your face gets to me, even though I know you're coming back. I can sort of—this sounds crazy, but just try to understand—I can sort of put myself in the mindset that we're not together anymore when I know you're gone. I can twist things in my mind and play out different scenarios of you leaving me for good and stuff like that. It's awful and I don't like it, but it helps with making those songs."
I understood. I get that way when he's gone, too. I don't write songs, because I'm not talented like him, but I can make up situations that end up making me upset. Like, if he met another girl or if he realized he enjoyed being away from me more than with me—that kind of stuff. Of course, I don't think that's what he's doing when he's away, but I think it's human nature to worry about things like that subconsciously.
"Well, that's actually really sweet. Why don't you ever play me these songs that I so heavily inspire?"
I have to beg him to ever play/sing anything he's working on. He won't shy away from playing something by somebody else, but for some reason, he rarely shares what he's working on with me. I find it a little odd, but it's his art. I'd probably be hesitant to share it with people, too. Except for the fact that one day, these songs will be put out for the whole world. And I'm—allegedly—the inspiration for some of them. It's his, though, and I'm not one to tell him what to do with it.
"Because," he simply said, as if that was an answer and not a conjunction.
"Because why?"
"Because," he said again. "Because...playing a song for the person who the song was written about is sort of hard. There's a lot of pressure in that."
"Even if I'm your girlfriend who unconditionally loves you and thinks you're the most incredible person on earth?" I asked. "Also, you could sing my shopping list and I would think it deserved a Grammy."
"It's even more pressure because you're my girlfriend, Gem," he told me. "Because I want it to be perfect, especially if it's about you, and I want it to say everything perfectly and I don't want to mess it up."
"Yeah, but my point is that, even if it completely sucked—which is impossible, in your case—I would still love it and adore you," I replied.
"I don't want that, though," he said, sounding kind of frustrated. "I want you to actually love it because it's good, not because I'm your boyfriend."
"I'm getting deja vu," I told him. "We had this exact conversation about my book. And you were saying all the things I'm saying right now. And how'd that turn out?"
He was quiet for a second. I got him there.
"We can have this conversation when you get back," he said, and we seemingly moved on. "What are your big birthday plans?"
"Well, right now Dad's taking a well-deserved nap, Liam's probably playing some video game, and I'm talking to you," I told him. "But I don't mind. I don't want there to be some big event, you know? We had breakfast together, then we watched some TV and talked for a while, and now we're taking a break from togetherness."
That's one thing I've enjoyed about this family. I'm a person who needs some alone time every once in a while; sometimes, I just need to be in my room for a long time, alone, just to relax. Decompress. My dad and Liam are the same way, so we can all do our own thing and nobody's offended or trying to bug you during your alone time. I appreciate that.
"This is another thing I love about you," he said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"What?"
"Like...you're just easy-going about everything. Some girls would make the biggest deal about their birthday and be so extravagant about it, and I guess that's not particularly a bad thing, but...I don't know. I just like that you're not completely self-absorbed like it seems everyone else is. You keep things simple. You find happiness in the small things. You find happiness in other people's happiness. I just admire that a lot."
I smiled a bit, feeling appreciated. That's such a good compliment; I love compliments where it feels like someone is really seeing me. Seeing my heart.
"Thank you. I do love seeing the people I love happy; that is the best gift ever," I explained. "It really is just not in me to want to make myself the center of attention just because it's my birthday. Which, by the way, is something that every human on earth has in common and could not be less unique to me."
"I know, Gem. I've heard your anti-birthday spiel many times, and while I somewhat agree with you, I think that you should embrace your birthday a little bit," he told me. "Because you're incredible and the genesis of your incredibility deserves to be celebrated."
"The genesis of your incredibility deserves to be celebrated," I restated with a smile. "I'm going to get that tattooed."
"Go ahead," he said with a laugh. "Because it's true."
We were both quiet for a moment or two, a comfortable silence coming between us.
"So, what are your big plans for the day?" I asked him.
"Probably going to call my mom. Then go to the studio. Then...probably call you again. Maybe I'll hang out with Connor or something. I don't know."
"Sounds like fun," I told him. "I miss you."
"I miss you too, Gem. Even if it's only been one and a half days."
"One and a half days too long."
"Oh, Gem. Nobody makes me feel as good as you do."
"That's my job as your girlfriend."
"Well, you're really good at it."
"Well, you're really good at being amazing, so it's not very hard."
"Shut up."
"You shut up."
I smiled to myself.
"Well, I'll let you call your mom," I told him. "I'm probably going to take a shower and get ready, or I might just lay in my bed and do nothing. We'll see."
"Okay. Have fun," he replied. "Don't hesitate to talk to me if you get bored or something."
"I won't," I said. "I'll text you."
"I'll text you back."
I smiled. "Okay. Then I guess I'll talk to you later."
"I guess you will."
"Okay. Bye."
"Bye. Love you."
"Love you, too."
We ended the phone call, and I fell back onto my bed. Should I lay here and do nothing? Or should I take a shower and get changed and do my hair and makeup? I already know which option I'm leaning towards.
shawn
mom says happy birthday
me
aw tell her thanks
shawn
nah i already told her that you don't believe in birthdays
me
please tell me you did not
me
can you please not make me sound like a crazy person? not to your mother, at least
shawn
i didn't actually say it. i just said i'd tell you, which is what i'm doing
me
good. tell her i said thanks
shawn
she says you're welcome
me
i love communicating via you
shawn
she said she loves it too
me
tell her i can't wait to meet her
me
tell her i already like her more than you
shawn
she said she likes you more than me too
shawn
which was unnecessarily rude coming from my own mother but whatever
me
haha okay i'll stay out of your call. tell her goodbye for me.
shawn
she says bye and come visit her soon
me
tell her i definitely will!!!
That whole interaction made me smile. I've never met his mom, but we have had limited interaction via Shawn through the form of FaceTimes and phone calls, so I sort of feel like we've already met. I feel like she likes me, which makes me smile.
Jake is from Australia, so I only met his parents a few times total. They weren't really a factor in our relationship. They seemed to like me enough, I guess. I remember being insanely nervous to meet them for the first time, but it wasn't really a big deal. Jake was good at diffusing any awkwardness that arose, and he was also good at making up excuses to get me alone and away from his parents. I hope Shawn is good at that, too.
I decided to lay in my bed and write some poetry—you know, because I'm only good at things that don't matter. I just love poems.
Seeing that I was just talking to him, I knew this poem would be about Shawn. He's the easiest inspiration. I get it when he talks about me being inspiration for his songwriting. Not that my trashy poetry is anywhere near the artistry level of his music—I'm just saying that I understand what it's like to have so many feelings and to just want to put them down on paper. But it's not that easy. There's so many things I feel for him but I can't seem to fully capture them in a few stanzas.
I put pen to the paper of a new page in my trusty poetry notebook. It felt good.
another year passes
add one to my age
in the novel that is my life
i'm turning another page
but, throw out the cake
the bright balloons, too
i don't need the party
all i need is you
that sweet, sincere smile
those strong, loving arms
they're better than any gift
you could've spent your money on
your love is enough
it's even more than i could say
you'll be the gift that keeps on giving
always, not just today
i love you
and that's just a fact
and whatever this year brings,
nothing could ever change that
———
later that night
"Okay, my favorite person comes all the way from LA to see me, but now that I'm here, she's quiet."
Aunt Kate tilted her head to the side, as if this really stumped her. We're at that point when you're out to dinner and you're full but you just keep eating a little at a time because the food is too good to throw away. It was me, Aunt Kate, her totally attractive-in-an-older-guy-way boyfriend, David, my dad, and Liam. A whole bunch of great people, all here to celebrate me. How did I get so lucky?
"Actually, she came all the way here for me," my dad interjected jokingly. She gave him a look.
Even though it kind of sucked for me at the time, I'm glad Aunt Kate moved back from LA to Nebraska. She says it was because of David and work, but I think it was a little for my dad. He was lost after Mom died. Aunt Kate is good for my dad.
Looking at them, you would never guess they're siblings. The most obvious reason being that my dad is like, twelve years older than Aunt Kate. She was an "accident." (My grandma used to say that no baby is an accident. She was just a surprise gift from God.) Aunt Kate is the cool, young aunt, even though she's like, thirty-four, which isn't that young. It's younger than Dad. She just gets things in a way that my dad doesn't. And she's so fun. Living with her in LA was a total blast. Gilmore Girls marathons, baking cookies at eleven o'clock at night, impromptu karaoke sessions. The whole nine yards. She tried so, so hard to be Mom for me. Even though she obviously isn't Mom, she was the closest I could get, and I'm forever grateful for that.
I think Dad would be a little lost without Aunt Kate. If Aunt Kate didn't move back to Nebraska, I would have, definitely. She was firm on me staying in LA; she said that there are more opportunities there for me. I was already committed to going to UCLA, I had my job, and she didn't want me to throw it all away. I appreciate that. But, I don't think moving back would have been the worst thing. I wonder how different my life would be now.
"I'm a quiet person," I said with a shrug, justifying my lack of talkativeness. I took another bite of my chicken alfredo. My favorite. It's my birthday, ya know.
"That's the truth," Aunt Kate replied, shaking her head. "You've got to have some news, though. Oh, tell me about that boyfriend of yours!"
Sometimes I feel like all I do is tell people about that boyfriend of mine. I mean, it doesn't really bother me. He deserves to be talked about.
"Um, what do you want to know?" I asked. My dad, Liam, and David had begun their own conversation about fishing or something awful like that.
"Everything," she said, as if that was the obvious answer. "Do you love him?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I do. He's amazing."
She grinned. "That's so great, Gemma. You think he's the one?"
Yeah.
I don't know. That's a huge question.
"We haven't been dating for that long," I told her, looking down at my almost empty plate of food. "I'd very much like for him to be the one, and I definitely see a future with him, but I don't want to be premature."
Aunt Kate nodded. "Fair enough. You're young, anyway. So young. You don't have to—you shouldn't—start committing to anyone for the rest of your life. But I mean, if he's the one. then he'll always be the one."
She smiled, and so did I. She's right.
"He just...I don't even know how to describe it. It's like me being happy is his number one priority. Even with all of the difference aspects and crazy details of his life, I'm the most important. I've never felt like that before," I said with a shrug, as if it wasn't that big of a deal. The truth is, it's the biggest deal. Just thinking about him feeling the way I feel about him about me gives me butterflies in my stomach. That feeling when you're going down a huge hill on a rollercoaster. That feeling you get when you ace the test you studied all night for. Just thinking about him thinking that I'm the one gives me that feeling.
"That's because he loves you, Gemma," Aunt Kate said. "That's what people do when they love you. When they really love you."
She's pretty much my Edith away from home. They both give the best advice.
I nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm just going to try and hold onto him for as long as I can."
She smiled. "That's probably a good idea," she said. "I want to meet him."
"You will," I reassured her. "One day. Maybe Christmas."
"Oh, that'd be so fun!" she said. "He'll love me; I'm not even worried about it."
I laughed. "Of course he'll love you. You're impossible not to love."
"True," she said with a grin. It was.
After dinner, we took an obligatory detour to the cemetery where Mom is buried. I laid out some nice, new flowers—white daisies, her favorite. Dad got choked up, and I was already silently crying, and it took so much in me not to just start sobbing hysterically. I would when I got home and was alone. But here...I don't know. I just don't like to be very vulnerable. Not with Liam and my Dad. I want to be strong, for some reason. Even though we all know I'm not.
"She'd be proud of you, Gem," Dad told me, putting an arm around me as we stood there, looking at a big rock with her name on it. Why is this a thing? Why are cemeteries a thing? For some sort of closure purpose? Who does this really help? She's not alive anymore.
I guess I believe in the heaven thing. I mean, I'd like to think my mom is up there with Grandma and Freddie Mercury and Bob Ross and whole bunch of other people she loves, living in some sort of paradise. That's nice to think. However, I don't really buy into idealistic fantasies, so I don't know what to think. I guess if she wasn't in heaven, then that would mean she can't hear me when I talk to her and that she can't feel me thinking about her, and I don't like that idea. i think she hears me. I hope she does, or I've wasted a lot of time.
"She'd be proud of you too, Dad," I told him. Then I pulled Liam close to me, and he shuffled. "You too, little guy."
And then we all stood there, arms around each other, looking at a big rock and a small patch of grass, talking to Mom. I think she heard us.
———
omg i didn't even realize how long that update took! i'm sorry :( this chapter just didn't really come to me at all, so i was just discouraged every time i tried to write, which led to me quitting before i got anything done. so yeah—not an excuse, but a reason. i'm sorry it's just a lame filler.
anyway, how are you guys?? i hope you're great!!
➡️ what are you guys listening to these days?
the new billie eilish album is INSANE, but i'm sure you already know that. i'm also vibing to the new khalid album and the new dean lewis album! it's "releasing music season" and i'm HERE FOR IT.
okay thanks to reading i love you so much!!! :))
xx-maggie