Jason is married

 I keep looking at Jason's wedding photos and just feeling this sense of … loss. Like that was supposed to be my future and it was taken away from me.

Because I can hate on Jason all I want, talk about how unhealthy our relationship was and how unstable he could be. I could talk about the nights spent driving around crying because it didn't feel safe to be home. I could go on about how he yelled and screamed in my face. How he called me an idiot, stupid. How he never bought me flowers even once. How sometimes I wish he'd just get it over with and hit me so I would have a reason to leave him. How terrible his mood swings were and how much I went through to support him regardless. How he didn't care and didn't want to get better. And it'd all be absolutely true.

But that's not the full story. I could also talk about how gorgeous his smile was. How his laugh made me feel all warm inside. I could go on about the countless drunk nights and road trip adventures. How good the sex was, how hard-working he was, how much he loved to dance (badly). How in love I was, how much I wanted to marry him. And it'd be just as true as all the negatives.

I think if he hadn't had his mental break, I would've gone through with it. I would've married him and had gorgeous beach wedding pictures. I would've worn my lace wedding dress and looked a heck of a lot like his actual wedding photos (just brunette instead). We could've traveled the world and had more crazy adventures.

But he did have his mental break and it left me with almost no choice. I had to leave. I had to leave. I couldn't stay and be so grossly mistreated while he figured out his mental health. I had to leave. I loved him with everything I was and depended on him and I had to leave.

And I'm still freaking pissed about it. It didn't have to be like that. I'm glad that the mental issues came out before we were married so that I could leave, but if he was just a stable person. If he had been able to handle his shit. If he hadn't gone off his meds. If if if.

But he did. And I left. And I was so glad to be out that I never really mourned the life we could've had together. Even though it wasn't my fault, even though it's been three years, even though it's pointless.. It could've been amazing.

It doesn't mean I don't love Luke and our life together. What we have together is so incredibly healthy and good and solid. I'll have my amazing future with a more stable, kind, and supportive person and that's the happy ending here. I'll be okay.

But please, give me a little bit to just sit with these emotions and mourn that future, and know that I love you. 

Familiarity with Luke

I was watching TV with Luke the other day. We were just sitting on the couch next to each other. I reached over to put my hand on his leg and he wrapped his hand over mine like I knew he would, smoothing his thumb along the back of my palm for a moment.

We were in the grocery store, standing in front of an aisle, trying to choose something. Luke leaned over and put a casual hand on my waist, drawing me near and pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I couldn't sleep, so I was scrolling on my phone while Luke slept peacefully next to me. He stirred and flopped his arm around for a minute until he bumped into me. Having found me, he curled his body around mine. Just wanting to be close to me, even in sleep.

Luke and I aren't really in the honeymoon phase anymore. We don't have to be touchy-feely. It's just .. nice. And that sounds so dumb and cliche and like we are in the honeymoon phase but honestly, it's just nice to be this familiar with someone, to be able to be in contact with them throughout the day, a wordless reassurance here and there.

One of my first posts here for you was wanting to be familiar with you. To learn how you kiss, to talk about the stupidest and most insignificant things from our days. To know you and have you know me. And I have that now. I know it's not that special or unusual. There'd be familiarity with anyone who is around basically 24/7. It's doesn't mean he and I have an unbreakable, perfect relationship.

But it's a nice little box to check anyway :)

Please always have the familiarity that lets you kiss the top of my head in the freezer aisle, and know that I love you.

Crazy times mean moments of gratefulness

In these crazy, crazy times, I'm really lucky to have so much stability in my life.

I have job security; I've worked hard to be indispensable as a teacher, editor, writer, and even programmer occasionally. I enjoy what I do and my coworkers are lovely (for the most part). I always worried I wouldn't be able to hold a job, and it's nice to know that that fear is mostly unfounded.

I have mental and emotional stability (as much as anyone can). Depression and anxiety come and go, but I've learned to work with them and do what I can. Recently, an "Ian song" came on my Spotify playlist. I waited for the icy seizing up in my chest, but it didn't come. I always worried I would never get over what happened with him, and it's nice to know that that fear wasn't real.

I have relationship stability. I haven't introduced him here; I've felt hesitant and protective of our relationship. He also doesn't make for crazy exciting stories like Jason. But that's a good thing. I don't need a partner that creates adventure in my life. Life is adventurous enough. I'm happy to have someone dependable, smart, and, above all, kind. He's one of the kindest people I've ever met. I always worried I wouldn't find a satisfying long term relationship, and it's nice to know that that's not a relevant fear anymore.

We got a puppy about 6 months ago! We are house shopping together. We're planning an engagement when this pandemic nonsense is finally over. We have a ten-year plan that includes tons of travel and no children.

I guess I'm just saying that things are good. I've waited a long time to feel like this, even just in small moments like now.

Please help me raise our dog, choose our house, and live our lives together, and know that I love you.

As far as families go, I'm pretty lucky

     About a year and a half ago, I was the closest to rationally considering suicide that I've ever really come. I'd just realized that my religion and much of my life was not what I thought it was. I didn't know what to do.
     Mostly, I was terrified what my family would think. I knew they'd be devastated to lose our eternal family, knew they'd mourn my falling away and worry over my spiritual salvation. I legitimately thought that my death would be less painful for them. That way, they'd take comfort in the plan of salvation; they would be okay because they would know that they'd seem me again someday in the celestial kingdom.
     I thought my family would rather have me dead than have me leave the church.
     Today, I sat next to Lauren, eating our breakfast with my steaming cup of coffee.
     I would say it's a miracle, but it's really not. I never should have doubted my family and I'm ashamed I did. You just hear so many horror stories of disownment. I didn't expect my family to react that way, but I'm sure the people from those horror stories didn't either. I was scared and it's been a bumpy ride. Like any transition, we've had some growing pains. But my family has always had my back. It's a blessing, but no miracle that they've loved me through it.
     Please accept my serious relationship with coffee and know that I love you.

Moonlight Beach

     When Dad suggests Moonlight Beach, I'm hesitant. The last two times I was there were ... important. But it's his turn to pick the beach and protesting would be weird - this is my family's favorite beach.

     But as we walk down the ramp to the beach, I look to the right side of the beach, against the cliffs and by the rickety wooden stairs.

     Jason proposed here.

     I knew it was happening. All the girls went to get pedicures while the guys had "bro-time" or some lame excuse that allowed them to go set up the proposal. I remember walking onto the beach with bare feet and freshly painted toenails. My heart was racing as I imagined what waited for me. Tangled lanterns and beach - those were my two suggestions. He took the beach suggestion, so I was excited to see the lanterns.

     They were mediocre at best. Sad little cardstock and printed paper (he got the sun design right at least) taped together with itty bitty fake candles to kind of light them. It was just a little underwhelming.

     His speech was nice, even if my family was two steps away and could hear every word. The ring was beautiful and we got great pictures with the sunset. I told myself that I didn't need the perfect proposal because I had the perfect guy.

     But I wanted more ... from both the guy and the proposal. No one should feel lame about their proposal.

     Shaking off the memory, I help Mom and Dad stake out our beach blanket territory for today. It's a beautiful day - not ridiculously hot like last weekend - and the waves look nice. Dad made a good choice in suggesting Moonlight.

     We sunscreen up (meaning I spray Mom's back while she simultaneously cringes at the cool temperature of the suncreen and demands another coat ... I spray my shoulders and am done (#lifeguardtan) ) and grab the boogie boards to head into the waves.

     It's while we're trying to swim past the first wave breaking point that the other memory seizes me. I get a glance of the beach as it narrows to the left of the entrance ramp - a slender strip of beach populated by pebbly sand and large boulders.

     Jason and I sat on those rocks, about six months after the proposal, three and a half months ago from today .... and one day before our original wedding date. We sat on those rocks and acknowledged - out loud, for the first time, in heart-breaking certainty - that we didn't know how to make our relationship work.

     This memory is harder to shake off. The proposal was upsetting because I felt so apathetic about it. But the apathy makes it easy to shake off. I'd give a lot to feel apathetic towards the second memory.

     Boogie boarding today proves to be a good distraction. I can't mope in the past when most of my mental (and physical) energy is devoted to not getting pummeled by waves. I get some good waves, long rides. Mom goes in about halfway through, but Dad and I brave the seaweed death trap and stay out longer. 

     The usual Capri-suns, wheat-thins, and sandwiches await us when we make it to the blanket. We munch and even break out the peanut-butter m&ms.

     And sitting there with my parents, for the first time in along time .... I feel okay. I don't feel the excitement of an engagement that lays to the right of us or the dread of a breakup to the left. We sit in the middle, the part of the beach filled with happy, unspoiled memories of days a lot like this one, and I relax into the safety of the middle of the beach, into the feeling of "okay."

     

     Please be ready for beach days of boogie boarding and braving seaweed, and know that I love you.

     There are so many reasons why I need this right now. To calm my anxieties, to validate myself, to have this in writing to come back to in hard times. Regardless...

This one is for me.

     Jess-
     I know I'm hard on you. I expect so much, push so hard, and don't take enough time to give you rest, to be gentle with you.
     So here it is.
     You were/are completely valid in your decision to end things with Jason. You knew deep down that you couldn't marry him, that because of his bipolar (and because of things outside his bipolar as well) there were fundamental deal breakers, things that couldn't - that still can't - be bridged, fixed, or changed.
     You were justified in staying though. You love(d?) him and that doesn't just go away. It shows the depth of your feelings and commitment that you stayed so long and tried so hard to make it work. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you human.
     It's okay to be unsure and feel conflicted. It doesn't mean you made the wrong decision. It's okay to feel angry with him and still miss him. Those aren't mutually exclusive. It's even okay that you feel like part of it is your fault, but just because you feel it doesn't make it true.
     So take your time. Be unsure and conflicted. Ride these emotions out. Because they will subside. You won't feel this way forever and thank goodness for that.
     You've gotten through tough breakups before and you've had a lot of time to prepare for this one. Deep down, just like you know you can't marry him, you know you'll be okay at the end of this.
     And just think what could be waiting on the other side of "okay."
     Please be strong, be brave, and please be gentle with yourself, Jess.
     And know that I love you.

I don't have the energy to be dramatic or artsy about this because it just freaking sucks

After a year of not writing, a mixture of boredom (graduating college is weird) and pain (breaking things off with my fiance) have brought me back.
There is too much to catch up on and not enough words to say it. The scary part though is that I don't even want to write about it all. Not yet. I've always said writing it is how I mourn the relationship and (besides the fact that it's not truly ended yet) I'm just not ready to mourn it.
Because it has been one of the biggest adventures of my life so far. A crazy, beautiful, hard, and heart-breaking adventure with a wonderful man. A man that I was ready to marry.
But a man that is not you.
This heart-breaking realization has been a long time coming, but the lack of surprise doesn't make up for the pain of it. I love him. And if we were already married, I would try to push through a little further. But we aren't married. And I can't commit to a marriage where it has so far proven impossible for us to take care of each other. I deserve someone who can be strong on my off days. Not someone who will perpetuate the bad days and make them worse.
He doesn't mean to. He would never hurt me. But the truth is that we aren't a good match, not with our mental health. We aren't breaking up because I am depressed/anxious or because he is bipolar. We are breaking up because of the combination of the two.
It doesn't work.
It doesn't change the fact that I want to keep trying, I want to fix things, want to figure a way out of this. I don't want to face the pain of the breakup. I keep hoping that he will somehow convince me out of breaking up with him, the same way he did about a year ago. But he won't. Because he knows as well as I do that we don't work together. We are both finding ways to delay the inevitable but it is inevitable.
We aren't good for each other. We were for so long and I keep trying to find the moment that changed. Why didn't his bipolar manifest itself earlier? To show us that we weren't a good match a long time ago. Or even manifesting later, when we were already married and had to stick around and figure it out.
We don't have to figure it out. We are free to choose a marriage, a life that isn't so hard. And we are.
He is not you. 
I'm trying so hard to find a way to be okay with that.
Please have (or get) a handle on your mental health and know that I love you.

Tanner's Graduation Day

     We were originally going to have our wedding a few days after Tanner's graduation. It just made sense; the whole family would be in town and it was in California, practically in the same city.
     But now Tanner has the whole weekend to himself.
     And considering the argument Jason and I had last week...
     We go to lunch before the graduation ceremony and end up with a few hours to spare. Someone suggests a park so the grandkids can get some energy out. Which is how, two days before I was originally supposed to be getting married, I'm instead sitting on a park bench by myself, watching my siblings and their spouses play with their kids, like a big happy family.
     After a few minutes, Tanner joins me on the bench. We watch everyone playing for a moment in silence before he awkwardly starts.
     "Sooo I heard about the Jason thing."
     "The Jason thing," I repeat blankly. There's a long pause where neither of us is sure what to say. "What does that mean?" Because I'm not even sure myself right now.
     "Well...he's not here," Tanner says, like that clarifies everything.
     I press my lips together. "Things are kind up in the air right now."
     He nods but doesn't say anything, like he's giving me a chance to speak up. When I don't, he takes a breath to say something else and I -
     "I was supposed to be getting married this weekend. Not breaking up."
     There's a second delay where he absorbs my words and then he says "awww Jess" and wraps an arm around my shoulders, somehow managing to be protective and tender and sympathetic all at the same time. I lean my head against his shoulder.
     "I'm sorry," he says and even though tons of people have said this lately, it means more coming from him. "I've never been that close to marriage, but you know Sarah and I were ring shopping before we broke up. It's rough."
     The best kind of silence settles between us then, one of commiseration and understanding. One of his kids calls out to him and he smiles, lifting his free hand to wave at them.
     "It was worth it in the end." He squeezes my shoulder. "It all led me to Emily and now I've got this family..." He gestures at them like he can't find the words to describe how wonderful they are. "You'll get here too."
     "I know." And I do. But that makes a minuscule difference on the pain right now.
     I take a deep breath. I feel a bit ridiculous that Tanner is the one showing emotional support when today is supposed to be his day, when I'm the one supposed to be supporting him at his graduation. And I will, I suppose; I'll get my turn to be supportive later today. That's the way families are, I guess. Giving comfort, lending strength, taking turns being the supportive one. That's what was missing with Jason. It was always my turn with him.
     Please take turns with me being supportive and know that I love you.

Jason is in a behavioral hospital

     After a rough two days, Jason completely lost it and started talking about "not wanting to be here" and, scarier, even specific methods. I called a help center and got him checked into a behavioral hospital. He is supposed to be there a week. He has a soft diagnosis of bipolar, which makes sense, considering how this literally came out of nowhere. He just swung into depression so suddenly and violently. Literally almost violently.
     I saved his life but I don't think I saved our relationship. He screamed at me repeatedly while getting him checked in. Told me this was my fault and other crap like that. Hugged me before I left and said he had faith that we would pull through this.
     I don't know how I haven't seen the evidence of his bipolar before now. Tonight it was so obvious. He is like two different people and I'm only in love with one of them.
     I'm putting my faith in medicine and time. That's what it took for me to figure out depression and how to work with it.
     Please don't hate me for trying to help you and know that I love you.

Important comparisons

     He's what I imagined you would be, in so many ways.
     He is empathetic. He is supportive. He is sweet to a fault. He is a goofball that I was almost immediately comfortable around. He has my complete and utter trust and just the right amount of manliness. He helps me reprogram; he works with me and my past trauma. He holds me whenever I get stressed out and start crying.
     But in a some ways, he's not.
     He's not the crazy genius I imagined. He's not good at school or reading or writing. But he is smart. He figures out how to fix things, picks everything up super fast, loves (and sometimes creams me at) puzzle games. 
     He's not quiet, but his confidence and, yes, loudness, around people takes the pressure off of me socially.
     He's not a patient person, but he is almost always patient with me.
     I think the most important thing I've realized about him is that he is always, always, willing to talk and adjust. So whatever doesn't quite match up with what I originally thought you would be, he is willing to work on.
     I don't want to change who he is though. I may not have envisioned marrying a man who is this loud, but it's one of the things I love about him. I may have wanted someone book-smart, but I appreciate our differences there. I love him how he is.
     It just goes to show that I can plan and dream all I want, but sometimes what I thought I wanted isn't what I actually needed. I think Jason is what I need.
     Please be Jason, and know that I love you.

Moment #1

It’s a sleepy summer evening and we’re driving home from dinner. The sun is reflecting off the mountains and setting everything in a fiery light and Utah has never looked more beautiful and I’ve never been more indifferent.

Across the car from me, Jason reaches over to rest his hand on my leg. Standard procedure in the car. And although I know that I love him, I can’t even muster up a response to this simple gesture.

As we ease to a stop at a red light, he looks over at me. “You okay?”

He knows me too well already. If I don’t want him to ask what’s up, I have to try to put on a better face. I’m just so exhausted tonight.

“Just tired.”

He squeezes my leg. “I’m glad you came to get food with me, even though you were tired.”

“I wasn’t even sure you wanted me to.” The words spill from my mouth before I can stop them.

The light turns green and his response sounds distracted as he focuses on the traffic.

“You’re kidding, right? Of course I want to spend time with you. Why wouldn’t I?”

We turn right onto the main street. I form my words more carefully this time.

“After everything I shared with you … I was afraid I scared you off.”

“I’ve told you it takes more than that to scare me.”

That’s what he says, yeah. What else is he supposed to say? A car switches lanes ahead of us and he brakes gently to let them in.

“It sure seemed like you were hinting that you didn’t want to hang out tonight.” I can’t seem to drop the subject.

The light turns conveniently red and he slams on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt and whirling to face me. The goofy brown hazel eyes are blazing, but not with anger. It’s more … determination?

“Jessica. You’re always welcome at my house or anywhere I go. Even on the rare occasion that I don’t feel like company, I still want to spend time with you.”

I duck my eyes. He lifts my chin back up. I search his eyes for a moment and find nothing but sincerity.

“I need my copilot,” he says.

I give a pained sort of chuckle; he’s referencing his terrible “navigator” skills when he rode passenger on our road trip. I was a much better navigator, DJ, snack-attendant … copilot.

“I need my partner in crime,” he continues.

I feel myself softening at his words, leaning towards him.

“I need my best friend.” The setting sun is bouncing off the green in his eyes. He cups my cheek with his hand. “We have lots more shenanigans to get into.”

He leans into me and I lean into him and our lips meet in a slow kiss, one of my favorite kinds, the kind with a soft and reassuring pressure that leaves you with shuddery breaths and a racing pulse. I swear I could stay there all day kissing him, basking in his words, letting him take some of the heavy away. And I want to, I want to stay there with him. I want more time with him, I want all the time in the world with him. I want a life with him.

Crap.

HONK.

We break apart and realize the light has been green for probably a good while now. He gives me this tiny smile and leaves a hand on my leg. The other hand returns to the steering wheel and we drive forward.

Please help me find the courage to stick around for all sorts of shenanigans with you and know that I love you.

I'm holding my breath and waiting for his response

Things have changed between Jason and me since I came clean about how bad my depression can get/is getting currently. I let him into the mess that is my head. I’ve never let anyone this deep before, except maybe Ian. I’m overanalyzing and waiting for Jason to run because what I told him is kinda scary. 

So the past few days have been … delicate. 

Ian could never accept what Jason is struggling to wrap his head around now: depression isn’t something that boys or relationships solve. Both of them have this desperate need to “fix” things, but depression isn’t that simple. It can’t just be fixed.

I wish it could. I’ve known for forever that boys don’t solve depression; I’ve written tons of posts about it. But I thought a healthy and stable relationship would at least help.

It doesn’t.

I should feel less alone, but I just feel disconnected from everybody. I should feel loved and secure, but I just feel broken and burdening. I should feel. But I don’t. Not like I should.

Please don’t be scared away by my depression, but realize that it’s probably going to be a lifelong factor in our relationship, and know how much I love you anyway. 

Because things have been getting bad again, here is...

How to take care of a Jessica (Part two)

• Clean a lot
• Depression makes it hard to stay neat but clutter doesn't help at all
• Dishes, laundry, things like that
• Get me some healthy food
• I pretty much live off of pasta during bad depression dips
• It's probably not the best for me but I never feel like cooking
• So it's a good idea to get an actual nutritious meal into me every once in a while
• Don't make me self-conscious about staying home all day
• When you get home and see that I didn't make it to class or work or to hang out with friends/family, don't make a big deal
• Don't ask if I went
• I obviously didn't
• And I probably already feel terrible about it
• Just come hug me 
• And maybe volunteer to......
• Help me to get out of the house
• This was on the last list but it's another tendency I have 
• I just sit there all day and don't do anything
• Don't make me feel guilty or lazy, because I promise it's not laziness
• Just help me get out and about even for just a couple hours
• Retail therapy
• It sounds fake but it weirdly helps
• Getting a new pair of flip flops or a new swimsuit or something
• It just makes me feel a little better about myself
• I don't know??
• Help me manage my schoolwork
• I may refuse to accept help on this but...
• I get overwhelmed really easily when depression is bad and school is busy
• It helps to break the assignments into bite-sized chunks
• But if I really feel like I can't do something, don't make me. And help me feel better about taking care of myself instead of my grade
• Give me space
• Again, a version of this was on the last list but it's so freaking important
• A lot of the time I don't want company and I don't want to chat or laugh or joke
• I just need to be sad for a little bit
• Don't keep asking me what's wrong or how you can help
• Just leave me be for a little bit
• But don't leave me alone
• Depression and alone time don't mix very well
• You can give me space and still be home with me
• I know it's a hard balance, sorry
• Help me set up a therapy appointment
• Something I probably won't want help with again...
• But if it's been bad for a while and it's not getting better, one session might not be a bad idea
• I just get anxious about talking on the phone to people, so it's hard for me to set appointments
• Plus I technically don't have a therapist right now so that's a whole issue I don't want to deal with
• Take me to the library
• I love books and quiet zones
• And randomly grabbing books off the shelf and reading them in one sitting without even checking them out
• Binge watch Netflix with me
• Help me not feel alone doing something that is very typical of me during depression dips
• Watch stupid youtube videos with me
• Jimmy Fallon recommended
• Just because he always makes me laugh
• Remind me to write it out
• Buy me my favorite pens 
• And help me to process my crap by writing it down
• I'll go months without writing when things get bad
• But it really does help, so just help me get started

     Please hang on through the bad depression dips and know that, no matter how bad depression gets, I love you.

Pretty much the most adorable story of this milestone

“I have to call Diane really fast, okay? It’s her birthday.”

“Go for it,” I say.

He dials her number and while it’s ringing, says, “Her approval is up there with Kiliki’s.”

Oh boy. No pressure.

They talk for a little. She’s on speaker but I’m mostly quiet. After a while, he brings me up. She asks some questions and he tells her how important her approval is.

“I’m sure I’ll love her,” Diane says.

“Yeah,” Jason meets my eyes and grins. “I love he—”

He cuts off abruptly and there’s a solid eight second of silence before Diane speaks.

“Wait, did you really just say that? Am I seriously a part of this?” She’s way excited and Jason just looks panicked.

“Uhhh I’ll call you back,” he says and hangs up.

He looks at me with wide eyes and I just bust up laughing. He protests and sputters excuses. I shove his shoulder playfully and say “You loooooove me.”

It takes an entire night of teasing before he finally admits it, on the doorstep, right before I’m about to go inside.

“I like you,” I say. Standard farewell between us.

“I love you,” he says. Not standard reply.

I start giggling and he says “What??” and I try to explain that I’m not laughing at him but the only words I can get out are “I didn’t think you’d actually admit it!”

He pulls me to him a little roughly and very suddenly and presses his lips to mine to shut me up. It works.

“Well I do,” he says.

I grin and bite down the giggle. “I love you too.”

Please don't be afraid to tell me that you love me and know that I love you too.

Summarizing a crap load because a crap load has happened

     Jason getting a little angry and stern shouldn't have been a big deal. But considering what I've gone through and considering he got a little physically rough, it was a big deal.

     Grace helped me through the panic attack I had over being alone with him. She helped me write the text ending things.

     Jason insisted on talking things over in person. I'm not even sure what happened, but we ended up kissing and when he tried to define our relationship, I couldn't give an answer. He was patient.

     Telling my family about Jason's anger incident (they're calling it "the original Jason experience) made them give me firm talks about cycles of abuse and how abusers can seem very charming... things that I already know. 

     And then Daniel freaking lost his crap that I was seeing another guy who wasn't treating me super well. He declared his eternal love for me and tried to start things up. It's been a roller coaster with him, but I wasn't interested.

     Aaaand then Bandaid Peter from work decided to ask me on a date as well. It went fine, but date two was less fine. I was a little bored. I found myself wishing that I was on the date with Jason instead. 

     Jason noticed how upset I was at work (over Daniel and Peter and just my dating life being a mess) and took me out to Denny's and was just the friend I needed. 

     Grace was/is not supportive of me spending time with Jason again because of "the original Jason experience." She's gotten so upset over it that I've stopped telling her about him. As far as she knows, I've been spending a lot of time with family lately. 

     But we have been spending a lot of time together lately and after all of this drama and crap has passed, it's been pretty wonderful.

     Please be willing to stay through possible drama and know that I love you.

Introducing a very important character

4/19/16

I'm lying in bed still feeling pretty gross (thank you always getting sick during finals week) when my phone buzzes. I glance over to see Jason's name pop up.

Hey! Are you feeling good enough come on a hike with me and my cousins?

I hesitate for a half second, our past conversations flashing through my head. Last Friday when I was sick and delirious and convinced I was about to get fired (long story - shifts are hard to get covered last minute when you're sick and the Rec center is crazy strict with attendance policies), so he tried to comfort me. Monday when he texted just to check how I was feeling.

"GRACE!"

"Hang on!"

She comes in a minute later and I just hold up my phone. She reads the text and squeals.

"Energizer bunny just asked you out!"

"Did not, his cousins will be there."

"Might as well have!"

I throw the covers over my head and groan. "What do I do?"

She bounces on my bed. "You're gonna go, right??"

Ben taps on the door. "What's the squealing about?"

Grace fills him in and he gives a woot that rivals Grace's squeal. They really are made for each other.

"You're going, right?"

And their enthusiasm is how I end up loaded up on cold meds, hiking the Y with Energizer bunny and his two crazy nerdy cousins, and how I end up letting him pay for ice cream and drive me home. But…it's all me when he asks if he can take me out on Thursday for dinner and I say yes.

4/21/16

I’ve just finished putting the finishing touches on curling my hair and sending a snapchat to Grace for approval when he knocks on the door. My stomach lurches and I grab my purse and open the door.

Jason is standing there, looking very handsome. There’s a second pause where I see his eyes travel the length of my body and then he says “Wow. You look beautiful.”

I grin. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He offers his arm and opens my car door and pays for dinner. He’s definitely a talker, which works well since it takes me a while to feel comfortable talking a lot anyway.

The Mexican restaurant goes over well with him—we both know good Mexican food and are homesick for it and for California. We have a lot in common, so this feels natural.

After dinner, we stop by my apartment to grab my iPod for music on our drive. I queue up my country play list and he pulls onto a dirt road and we end up on a mountain, looking out at the city lights. He turns to me with this adorable crooked smile and throws open his car door, running around to open my door for me and pulling me out of the car. One hand finds mine and he twirls me, then pulls me back closer and starts dancing.

I’m laughing and noticing the softness of his hands, the safety in his hand on the small of my back … and when he nestles his forehead against mine, I don’t pull away.

It’s really not like me to kiss on the first date, but he’s been such a sweetheart and a gentleman. He brushes my nose with his and whispers, “what are you thinking?”

“Just kiss me already.”

I’m expecting a laugh or something to break the mood, but he just exhales quickly and presses his lips meekly to mine.

The timidness of the kiss doesn’t last long though. We’re five seconds in when he bites my lip and I melt into him, fingers curling into his hair. He hoists me up onto the hood of his car and I wrap my legs around him, drawing him closer.

It’s 2 am by the time I make it home with flushed cheeks and lunch plans for the next day. 

Please be the guy who has the guts to kiss me on the first date but still makes me feel respected and know that I love you.

Wedding plans of all varieties

It's been a weird and long day, and the last thing I want to do is stay up until midnight to register for fall classes. Midnight used to be the norm for me, but now that I work so early so often, I'm a wimp. Midnight is late.

But Daniel wanted to Skype anyway. I minimize the page that is all ready to register the second the clock changes to twelve and pull up Skype. He's already online so I call.

We exchange stories about our day. He got a haircut and had a rude customer who demanded extra wings that she didn't pay for. I've just finished telling him about the kid who pooped in the pool when a conversation with Ben and Grace comes to mind.

We'd been riding home in Ben's truck, discussing wedding plans. He was determined to smash cake in Grace's face at the reception and she was getting borderline angry about it, so I jumped in.

"I'll have to get lots of supplies to decorate your car too!"

Ben was silent for a second, then, "You aren't touching my car, no way."

"What?"

He glanced in my direction. "I don't really want my car decorated."

"It's kinda part of the wedding experience, babe," Grace said.

"So is smashing cake," he said.

I tried jumping in again. "Okay, I won't decorate your car if you don't smash cake in Grace's face."

He didn't hesitate. "Deal."

I recount it to Daniel and he laughs.

"What could you have done to his car that would be so bad?"

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Oh, plenty. My family has gotten pretty creative with wedding car decorating."

"Like what?"

"Well, with Larissa's car, we forgot to get supplies, so we ended up grabbing leftover food. We spelled words on her window with Oreos and made happy faces with bananas and used toilet paper as streamers… it was epic. They were so mad."

"Why were they mad?"

"Apparently they went through a car wash and none of it came off."

He laughs. "Okay, that's pretty bad."

"Tanner's car was pretty awesome too."

"Uh-oh. What's more awesome than leftover food?"

I grin and tell him about putting rocks in his hubcaps, torn up streamers in the air-conditioning vents and inside balloons… we put confetti everywhere in that car. When I've finished describing the general wreckage and genius, he laughs even harder.

"Oh man. Your family better not do anything like that to my car."

I suck in a breath. He takes in my wide eyes and asks "what?"

It takes me a second to find my words. "That was just uh…. Assuming a lot, I guess."

He presses his lips together. "Assuming too much?"

Is this a marriage proposal or something?

I organize my words and try to be gentle. "I stand by what I said about just needing platonic love and friendship right now."

His lips press together even tighter. "Assuming too much." It's not a question.

I shrug my shoulders helplessly. "Don't make it like this."

He closes his eyes. A moment passes between us and it feels heavy and significant and I'm not even sure why.

"Shouldn't you be registering or something?"

Oh crap. It's 12:02. "Shoot, yeah, sorry."

"It's okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight."

Please be patient with my family's car decorating and know that I love you.

Reasons why I haven't posted in weeks

I went to my Bishop for a temple recommend interview. When he asked me how my testimony was doing, I had to answer honestly that it’s been struggling.

There're some things about the LDS Church that just aren’t adding up. But when I tried to discuss it with my Bishop… in the hopes that he could help resolve some of my doubts, he shut me down.

“If you’ve had these doubts for a while, then why would you even come to BYU? You know there are tons of people who actually want to be here and who deserve to be here. If you can’t find your testimony by the time ecclesiastical endorsements roll around, I don’t feel comfortable endorsing you.”

Translation: get your crap together in a month or I’ll kick you out of BYU.

It wasn’t just unhelpful, it was damaging. The first person I reached out to was…

You guessed it. Ian.

He’s been through Church stuff with me before. I was hoping for a steady opinion and someone who knows me. But when he didn’t respond to my text within a day or so, I got a little worried. I looked him up on FB, but his name didn’t come up. Confused, I logged into my mom’s account and searched for him there. He came up.

So he frikkin' blocked me, which is great. After all we’ve been through, after all he’s put me through, he is the one blocking me?? Besides that though, he’s engaged. I have so many stupid and mixed emotions about that. My immediate reaction was jealousy and disappointment. Which is beyond crazy. My second reaction was a little saner, just an intense worry and fear for his fiancée. Who knows if he’s really changed.

The next person I reached out to was Daniel. He’s my best friend and has strong opinions on the church, so I should’ve known better. His first reaction was “Great! Now we can be together!”

It’s weird to realize that I don’t love him like that anymore. He’s been mean on purpose, been degrading and disrespectful, too many times. I see him differently. He’s still my best friend, a crazy mermaid genius, and I rely on him. But I don’t want anything romantic with him.

So the last person I felt comfortable reaching out to was Madeleine. We met when we were eleven and we've always been pretty close. She left the church several years ago. She’s been through all of this and she’s been an incredible help to me. She tries really hard to just give me feedback and keep her strongest opinions out of it. But she’s helped me to find a lot of information and to consider things a little more openly. I have a lot of crap in my head and she just helped me sort it and calm it down and figure it out a little bit. She’s a safe place.

I have a lot of information now and I’ve just been comparing and thinking a lot.

But it’s not gonna help me figure out my crap in a month.

So that’s why I sat in my Bishop’s office last week and gave all the answers that he wanted to hear, bore a testimony that I don’t have, smiled a lot. He gave me my ecclesiastical endorsement and renewed my temple recommend. At the end of the interview he shook my hand for like a minute and said “I can usually tell how a person is doing based on their countenance. And your countenance is so much brighter than it was when you first came to see me. You have come so far.”

It was shocking to hear. I’ve never doubted the authority of bishops, but there he was buying my cheap lines and telling me how much I’d improved. If I have improved, it’s not for the reasons he thinks or in the direction he wants. The whole interview just seemed like a joke.

It’s been a painful past month or so. I’m nowhere close to making decisions or acting or anything, but some of these realizations… I’m realizing that Church authority doesn’t give out facts and information that puts the church in the bad light. Like the whole “Joseph Smith didn’t write the first vision down until 10+ years after it happened and then he wrote a ton different versions. Some of these included him seeing only one person, seeing two people, seeing no specific people just a multitude of singing angels..” I don’t know. Some of the evidence is overwhelming. And to me, withholding evidence is a lot more suspicious than just being open about the facts, which the church just is not.

It's especially painful because I’ve built my entire identity around the church, around being Mormon. Not to mention my family and expectations for you.

Mostly I’m just really really scared and not ready to share or talk about this with anyone.

Please be patient with me as I figure things out and know that I love you.

And sometimes work is really hard

I swipe another tear out of the corner of my eye, mostly just annoyed at it. The middle of my lifeguard shift is not a convenient time to cry.

But frik. I went in to talk to Jason and Kathy about missing work on Monday, and the first thing they told me was that next time I was throwing up all night and morning, I should come into work anyway. And that I still needed a doctor's note to excuse me, even though the next available appointment isn't until Saturday… when I'm won't be sick, and the doctor will have no way of knowing for sure if I was sick. They're making me spend $30 bucks to get a piece of paper that doesn't even prove I wasn't lying.

Whatever. I was happy enough to end the conversation there, but they weren't. They told me they'd received a couple comments about my performance. Of course, Liz…

A couple weeks ago, we were doing in-water training. It was program pool, so shallow water, meaning lifeguards could keep their head dry as long as we weren't playing victim. Two other unlucky guards had to play victim, but on the third and final example, Liz asked me to be victim.

I bit my lip, debated how much I cared about getting my hair wet… It wasn't even that I'd just washed it or that I had an important event after work. I just really didn't want to deal with a bundle of wet hair the entire shift for the fourth time that week.

"Is it okay if Felicia is victim again? I'm still relatively dry.."

Felicia had jumped in, perfectly willing, but Liz had just pressed her lips together and not said another word.

…to me at least. Apparently she had more than a few words for Kathy and Jason. They told me that one comment was that I "wasn't complying with my supervisor," that I was "refusing to do in-water training because I didn't want to get wet."

IT WASN'T THAT BIG A DEAL. I was doing the training. I was complying. I just thought that maybe someone who was already wet should play victim for our very last example?? If she really felt strongly about it, she should've said something there, and I would've played the stupid effing victim. She shouldn't have gone to Kathy and Jason about it when it could've been resolved literally right there when it happened.

But of course, that wasn't the only comment. They also told me that "someone" had informed them that I was "grumpy and complainy" when I didn't get the spot in rotation that I wanted.

Okay, I admit to being particular about my rotation. It's half because my anxiety; I just want a consistent schedule, including rotation. I don't care where I start, I just want to start in the same place every day. The other half is because I usually pull lanelines (and that position gives me more than two breaks..).

Again, that's something that Liz should've come talked to me about herself. All she had to say was "I'd like it if you were willing to go anywhere in rotation." And I would've shaped up.

Not that there was really that much shaping up to do. If we're being honest, the only reason she made that comment to Jason and Kathy was because I corrected her on rotation. She was trying to add in brown chair because we were "busy" (really not that busy) and she made rotation go program, tall, brown, rove, deep, then comp? That's just a stupid rotation. Like it makes no sense. Every single other supervisor (and Jason and Kathy) add in brown after program and before tall. It makes more directional sense and it screws up regular rotation a whole lot less. But when I tried to explain that to Liz, she got defensive and said "Well I already told the rotating guard, so we're doing it this way."

And because I was "complaining," she added that to the list of things to report to Jason and Kathy. Really for someone who likes to do everything by the book, her rotation and trainings are constantly riddled with mistakes, both big and small, and I'm not the only one who corrects her.

She drives me up the wall crazy and instead of just talking to me about it (no matter how much I dislike her, I would've taken her comments into consideration) she felt the need to bring our bosses into it. Like, I'm pretty sure they have better things to do than deal with this crap??

A glance at my phone tells me that I've only got seven minutes of my break left. I grab a wad of toilet paper from the dispenser and start wiping at my mascara, applied for Hugo, and running down my cheeks because of Liz. To be fair, I take criticism really really hard. It's only because I get it so rarely.

It takes a minute, but I stop crying and manage to clean all the mascara from my face. I take a breath and return to the guard room, which is thankfully empty of Liz for the moment being.

I have just enough time to chug down my shake before I have to grab my tube and rotate. Liz catches me on my way out and her way in. I drop my eyes as she gives instructions on how to reach her because she'll be cleaning the bleachers (a pointless task that no other supervisor put time into). I nod, mumble some form of acknowledgment, and crash into the trashcan as the door closes behind me.

Justin calls out to me as I pass him. I glance up with blurry eyes and he stops short. When he speaks again, his voice is a lot softer.

"How did the talk with Jason and Kathy go?"

"Fantastic."

He raises an eyebrow. "Sarcasm?"

"It was fine." I shrug, trying to sound nonchalant.

One glance at his face tells me he's not buying it. He grimaces. "Some…person…lied to them about some doozies…some of Jason and Kathy's pet peeves."

I bite my lip, the tears welling up again. "Yeah. I was a little blindsided."

"What exactly did they have to say? All I heard was that you didn't want to get wet during training, which doesn't sound like you at all."

I look up, shaking my head slightly. "There was also the comment that I get complainy about rotation."

He hesitates. "Complain-y isn't the right word."

"Either way, she should've come and talked to me about it first."

"Yeah. I would've." He doesn't even argue if it was a he or she. We both know who ratted me out.  "You okay now?"

"I'm fine." But my voice breaks when I say it.

I turn to keep walking, but he catches my arm. "Jess. I'm sorry that happened."

I press my lips together. "Yeah."

He continues on. "I've been chewed out by Jason and Kathy plenty of times. Half of the things I deserved a little and half were just blown out of proportion. It wasn't a big deal overall. It didn't stop me from becoming supervisor, so I doubt it'll screw up your chances either."

I nod, afraid of any more voice breaking.

"I'm not worried about you," he says.

I exhale, closing my eyes for a minute. That was exactly what I needed to hear.

"Thanks," I tell him.

He smiles and releases me and I continue on with rotation.
       Please don't be bothered by my natural response to any stressful situation (crying) and know that I love you.

Sometimes I just really love my job

I finish hauling the lane lines out of the pool for water Zumba class, and decide that I should probably go apologize to Justin for snapping… but it wasn’t my fault that he tried to mess up my rotation.

The thing is, Justin is my best lifeguard friend. He’s married and a total goofball, so naturally he was the first one at the pool I felt comfortable around. That hasn’t changed, and that’s why I owe him an explanation for my grumpiness.

I push open the door to the main pool area, tossing my lifeguard tube into the guard room and walking over to Justin. He’s guarding the deep pool, which is totally empty, so it’s good timing at least. I walk past Hugo on my way. He’s roving, and he nudges me with his tube as I pass him. I glance back at him and roll my eyes.

I reach Justin, reaching out to brush his shoulder. He turns towards me.

“Got the lane lines out?”

I stick my tongue out at him. “Yeah. Even though you didn’t think I could do it.”

He shakes his head, turning back to scan his pool. “I never said that. I just offered to take that spot in rotation because I didn’t want you to have to handle it yourself.”

It’s the same thing. I let it slide with a simple and joking: “Well I did it record time, so there.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. I hesitate. Then, “I’m sorry for snapping about rotation.”

He frowns, eyes sweeping the surface of the pool. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m like stupidly stressed right now and-”

“That’s what I figured,” he says. “Too many essays and readings?”

“You know it.”

“Life of an English major.”

I wrinkle my nose at him, glad for the commiseration of English majors. “I just have this essay due today and I have a writing conference about it with this super intimidating teacher...”

A boy walks to the diving cliff and our conversation pauses as Justin waves him forward, giving him the okay to jump.

“Wait, this isn’t ‘you’re looking at your laptop too much during class’ teacher, is it??” Justin’s eyes follow the boy as he swims for the side.

I sigh. “That’s the one.”

“Oh boy. You’re allowed to be stressed.” The little boy clambers out of the pool and runs off.

“Well thanks. The thing is, the conference is at 2:30, so I needed this spot in rotation so I could end on break and get out of here on time…”

“Ahh.” He turns towards me. “That makes sense.”

“I shouldn’t have snapped though.”

He shrugs at me. “Jess, it’s you and me. Don’t worry about it. We’re good.”

I exhale, grateful to have at least that pressure off my shoulders. “Good.”

There’s a brief pause where I deliberate returning to the guard room, but just as I draw in a breath to say goodbye, he glances in my direction again.

“So you and Hugo, huh?”

My head whips around, my eyes wide. All too late, I realize my mistake in reacting this much. Justin’s eyes meet mine and they’re teasing and triumphant. Crap.

“It’s not…” my words fall short and Justin’s smile widens.

“He’s a nice kid.”

“He’s a pre-mi,” I counter.

“He doesn’t even have a departure date yet.”

“I’m not looking for short term.”

He grimaces, sincere empathy replacing the joking smile. “It’s pretty inconvenient to like him then.”

I refuse to admit to this straight out. I choose my words carefully. “It’s not like he feels the same anyway.”

Justin raises an eyebrow at me. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

This is cliché and probably not true and I draw in a surprised breath anyway. “Apparently not.”

I turn my head, eyes searching for the broad shoulders, the dark skin that reminds me way too much of Daniel, the new haircut that makes him look so much older. Hugo rounds the play structure, kicking a little bit of water up and swinging his tube and looking generally attractive. Damn it.

Justin turns his attention away from his empty pool for a minute, catching the direction of my gaze and giving a small laugh. “You have it bad.”

I shove him lightly. “Do not.”

He shakes his head at me. “If you say so.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m going to go enjoy the rest of my break now.”

“You do that. Say hi to Hugo for me as you pass him.”

I choose to ignore this comment, but as I walk across the pool deck, Hugo is walking in front of me, back turned and I see an opportunity…

Hugo is forever scaring the crap out of me. I’ve finally limited him to three scares a shift, so that I’m not extra on edge anymore. But he’s always bragging about how he’s unscare-able. We’ll see.

I tiptoe up behind him and seize his shoulders, giving a loud (and regrettable and embarrassing) “BOO!”

I swear that he jumps, but when he turns towards me, he’s just smiling extra big, no sign of fear in his dimples.

“Oh come on. I totally got you.”

He squints at me. “You totally didn’t.”

I nudge his shoulder with mine. “You jumped!”

“You like grabbed me and moved me!” He nudges me back.

I let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll get you eventually.”

He laughs, turning away from me to continue roving. “Good luck with that.”

I stand there smiling like an idiot for a second too long, before catching myself, and confining myself to the guard room for the rest of my break.

It’s so strange to be feeling this way again, but it’s a welcome relief from constant heart-brokenness. Although that’s not completely over, as every argument and awkward moment with Daniel reminds me. I should probably just cut him off but that feels even worse.

At any rate, it feels good to be crushing on other boys again. It feels freeing. Daniel is losing his grip on me, the same way Ian did, the same way Tim did…

The same way you won’t.

Please be a goofball I’m immediately comfortable around, a joker that tolerates me trying (and apparently failing) to scare you, and know that I love you.

I didn't know that Grace's engagement meant I was on check-out duty for lingerie

I balance my phone on my shoulder as I fumble with my key in the lock of our apartment door. It takes me a second before I get it to click and swing the door open.

Grace is sprawled on the couch, phone to her ear. I catch just a snippet of her conversation (“No mom, I don’t want to get a spray tan before taking bridals”) before Lauren pulls me back into ours.

“So she’s pretty sure then?”

I hesitate, dropping my backpack and collapsing into my hand chair just beside Grace. (“I’m fine not being orange, thanks”)

“Yeah. She’s pretty sure.”

“After three weeks of dating?”

“Yup.”

“Well … as long as she’s prayed about it I guess.”

“She has.”

Grace waves a hand at me and I glance over at her. She takes the phone off her ear and says, “Are you still in the mood for Smashburger?”

I pull my phone away from my mouth and respond. “Ummm do you have to ask?”

She grins. “Five minutes?”

“Done.”

We resume our phone conversations.

“Was that Grace?” Lauren asks.

“Mhmm.”

“Tell her I say hi!”

“I will. Listen, we’re gonna get food so I have to go. I’ll call you later?”

“Sure Shmoo. I love you more than Scout.”

“I love you more than my polka dot pants.”

I hang up and grab my purse, making it back into the living room just as Grace hangs up. She grabs her jacket and then we leave.

It’s days like this that I’ve missed the past three weeks … since she’s been in la-la-land with Ben. Days where we go get food and people watch and just spend time together. We get our regular at Smashburger (barbeque burger and oreo chocolate shake for her, cheeseburger and chocolate peanut butter shake for me) and sit across from each other and laugh and swap shakes every now and then.

When we finish, she looks up a little embarrassed. “Hey Jess.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we … can we go lingerie shopping soon?”

“I don’t have any plans the rest of the afternoon.”

She gets a stupid grin on her face and that’s how we end up in the Macy’s dressing room on a Thursday afternoon, trying on lingerie and giggling and commenting on the boob sack lingerie versus the built in bra lingerie. I try on a couple, but she tries on six or seven. There’s a particular white one that is just perfect and she declares that she has to buy it.

But she pauses just outside the dressing room.

“Grace?”

“I’ve never bought lingerie before…”

I raise an eyebrow at her. She scrunches up her eyes and looks over at me.

“Will you buy it for me?”

And that’s how I end up in the Macy’s checkout line with a debit card that’s not mine and a piece of lingerie that’s definitely not mine.

It’s not a long line, but there’s a particularly obnoxious old lady, two customers in front of me, who insists she should get 50% off a sweater because of a tiny snag on the bottom. She takes ten minutes arguing with the poor cashier, whose English isn’t very good to begin with, and I stand there feeling more awkward with every minute.

I finally make it up to the cashier. She smiles at me and I put the lingerie on the counter. She looks at it. Then she looks at me.

“You want … to buy?”

What else? I purse my lips. “Ummm. Yes.”

She nods and picks up the lingerie, and holds it at eye level for the entire store to see, while she hunts around it for a price tag. It must take her a solid minute and a half of fluffing it around and drawing the general attention of the store before she finds it. It takes her another minute to get it to scan.

The price rings up as twenty dollars more than I thought.

“I thought it was only $30?”

She frowns, squinting at the price tag. “No, that scratched off.”

It’s not scratched off. “Are you sure?” I ask.

“I go check.”

Four minutes later, she comes back with no answers. “I go ask someone.”

At this point, I have three customers behind me who are grumbling and probably judging me for buying lingerie. Dang it Grace. The cashier takes another five minutes before she comes back.

“30 dollar,” she says.

I nod, content, and she proceeds to try to re-ring it up. It takes three tries and another four minutes to get it right. Jeez.

“Ok, just put in pin.”

Oh crap. What’s Grace’s pin? I hesitate…it takes me a long moment, but I scrap together memories of seeing her punch it in at grocery stores. I punch in the numbers cautiously, but the machine just chimes happily.

“Okay, now zip code?”

What? Any other question about Grace I would’ve known. Her birthday? Got it. Phone number? Check. Area code? Yup. Address? Yeah right.

I turn around, desperately searching for Grace. I see her hiding behind a rack of clothes. I feel no guilt in calling her out.

“Grace! Zip code!”

She steps from behind the rack of clothes sheepishly. “89434.”

I repeat it to the cashier three times before she gets it.

Then she pulls out a bag and flips the lingerie around in some attempt to fold it and stuff it into the bag, but honestly I’m ready to just grab it and run. We both watch the receipt print out at snail speed.

“Receipt in bag?”

“Yes.” Just hurry up.

She holds out the bag to me and I yank it from her hands, turn on my heel, and book it away from there. Grace hurries out of her hiding place to catch up with me.

We manage to make it down the escalator before breaking out in giggles.

“That shouldn’t have been so hard!”

“I’m so sorry!”

“You have to talk to the next like 50 store people. I’m not doing it.”

“Deal,” she says.

We reach my car and I dig around in my purse for my keys, tossing her the bag. She catches it and gets that stupid grin on her face again.

“Jess. Guess what I just bought?”

“What you just bought?” I find my keys and open my car door.

She sticks her tongue out. “What we just bought.”

I duck into the car, reaching across to unlock her door. She climbs in.

I look over at her, putting my key in the ignition.

“We just bought lingerie,” she says, giggling again.

I laugh back and start the car. The radio blares back at us, a reminder of the mini-concert that took place on the drive here. It scares us both and we laugh again before we register the lyrics blasting out of my speakers.

Man, I feel like a woman.

Please be ready to give up at least one night a week of my time to Grace, and know that I love you.