anger, and all he could think about was one thing:
Heather doesnât want me to walk. Heather would rather have my money than have me walk.
He clenched his fists together for fear he might hit something. Lash out and break a bone or a piece of furniture. He clenched his fists togetherâ
And then suddenly Ed realized the significance of this action.
As he felt his nails digging into his palms, he realized his hands. . .
were at his sides.
He was no longer gripping the bars. Yet he was still standing.
He looked down at his feet.
At that moment Ed Fargo hit the floor again.
HEATHER
Itâs funny how nothing ever stays the same. Nothing. For the longest time it seemed like I was untouchable. After everything I went through when Ed had his accident, after all that sorrow and guilt and heartache, I made a pact with myself: that Iâd never sink to that level of sadness again. That no matter what, Iâd always stay on top.
And I did. Even through all that stuff with Sam. Even when Gaia Moore blew into my life and my relationship with Sam fell apart, I still kept it together on the outside. Think of a swan gliding across a pond. Thereâs all that furious web-footed churning under the surface, but all you see is the bird gliding by, unruffled. On top of it all. On the surface, at least.
That was me.
On top of things, placidly gliding across the surface without messing up a feather. Up where I belonged. Or at leastwhere everyone else seemed to think I belonged.
But now I feel like Iâm cracking. Edâs keeping me at armâs length; Phoebe isnât getting any better; my parents are penniless. And Iâm finding it hard to stay afloat. Watching my parents and Phoebe, Iâm beginning to think that life has no patterns. Itâs just a series of arbitrary circumstances, some good, some bad. All of it meaningless and random.
Iâve also decided that what doesnât kill you doesnât necessarily make you stronger, either. Every knock adds up. Sooner or later, you sink.
Worst of all, I canât talk to anyone about this stuff. Itâs not like my friends would even begin to understand or empathize. And I canât talk to my parents. Theyâre in even worse shape.
Once upon a time Ed was that person, the one person I could tell anything to, no matter how harsh. But heâs too busy shuttingme out to care. And besides, heâs too full of optimism right now to even begin to relateâtoo filled with his recovery to see how my life is breaking up into chunks and sinking.
I am totally alone. Itâs like that book
The Stranger
. Maybe Camus is right. Maybe life is just an existential exercise. I still donât think I quite get what existential means, but it sounds lonely and hideous, and thatâs exactly how life is.
For the first time ever, I feel Iâm getting dangerously close to numb.
Hereâs another thing that makes no sense: How can a person feel so desperately unhappy, yet-feel numb at the exact same time? Numbness is like the opposite of sadness. Or is it? Nothing makes sense.
The only thing I know is that I donât give a shit anymore about the things that used to matter to me. Itâs hard work even gettingdressed in the morning, never mind color coordinating.
I donât even care that Gaia and Sam are rumored to be a couple.
I have bigger things to worry about than that.
black letters
Even
with
a knife, these two were about as intimidating as a couple of stuffed animals.
âDAD, THIS PLACE IS A JOKE,â Gaia complained, her eyes darting from side to side as she stood at the entrance of Antique Boutique, the primo FOH shopping stop. She just knew she would run into Megan or Tina or Heather herself. And the last people Gaia felt like seeing were the Kate-Spade-toting, Tommy-reeking, self-designated in crowd who had placed themselves at the top of the Village Schoolâs limited social pyramid.
Blending In
It was kind of
Heather doesnât want me to walk. Heather would rather have my money than have me walk.
He clenched his fists together for fear he might hit something. Lash out and break a bone or a piece of furniture. He clenched his fists togetherâ
And then suddenly Ed realized the significance of this action.
As he felt his nails digging into his palms, he realized his hands. . .
were at his sides.
He was no longer gripping the bars. Yet he was still standing.
He looked down at his feet.
At that moment Ed Fargo hit the floor again.
HEATHER
Itâs funny how nothing ever stays the same. Nothing. For the longest time it seemed like I was untouchable. After everything I went through when Ed had his accident, after all that sorrow and guilt and heartache, I made a pact with myself: that Iâd never sink to that level of sadness again. That no matter what, Iâd always stay on top.
And I did. Even through all that stuff with Sam. Even when Gaia Moore blew into my life and my relationship with Sam fell apart, I still kept it together on the outside. Think of a swan gliding across a pond. Thereâs all that furious web-footed churning under the surface, but all you see is the bird gliding by, unruffled. On top of it all. On the surface, at least.
That was me.
On top of things, placidly gliding across the surface without messing up a feather. Up where I belonged. Or at leastwhere everyone else seemed to think I belonged.
But now I feel like Iâm cracking. Edâs keeping me at armâs length; Phoebe isnât getting any better; my parents are penniless. And Iâm finding it hard to stay afloat. Watching my parents and Phoebe, Iâm beginning to think that life has no patterns. Itâs just a series of arbitrary circumstances, some good, some bad. All of it meaningless and random.
Iâve also decided that what doesnât kill you doesnât necessarily make you stronger, either. Every knock adds up. Sooner or later, you sink.
Worst of all, I canât talk to anyone about this stuff. Itâs not like my friends would even begin to understand or empathize. And I canât talk to my parents. Theyâre in even worse shape.
Once upon a time Ed was that person, the one person I could tell anything to, no matter how harsh. But heâs too busy shuttingme out to care. And besides, heâs too full of optimism right now to even begin to relateâtoo filled with his recovery to see how my life is breaking up into chunks and sinking.
I am totally alone. Itâs like that book
The Stranger
. Maybe Camus is right. Maybe life is just an existential exercise. I still donât think I quite get what existential means, but it sounds lonely and hideous, and thatâs exactly how life is.
For the first time ever, I feel Iâm getting dangerously close to numb.
Hereâs another thing that makes no sense: How can a person feel so desperately unhappy, yet-feel numb at the exact same time? Numbness is like the opposite of sadness. Or is it? Nothing makes sense.
The only thing I know is that I donât give a shit anymore about the things that used to matter to me. Itâs hard work even gettingdressed in the morning, never mind color coordinating.
I donât even care that Gaia and Sam are rumored to be a couple.
I have bigger things to worry about than that.
black letters
Even
with
a knife, these two were about as intimidating as a couple of stuffed animals.
âDAD, THIS PLACE IS A JOKE,â Gaia complained, her eyes darting from side to side as she stood at the entrance of Antique Boutique, the primo FOH shopping stop. She just knew she would run into Megan or Tina or Heather herself. And the last people Gaia felt like seeing were the Kate-Spade-toting, Tommy-reeking, self-designated in crowd who had placed themselves at the top of the Village Schoolâs limited social pyramid.
Blending In
It was kind of
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