Page 213 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions
I needed to tell someone what Alex meant to me or it was going to eat me from the inside out.
“I’m in love with Alex.” The words were barely a whisper. Saying them aloud hurt, but it was freeing too. Like a weight that had been constricting my chest was gone. I could breathe again, an overwhelmed gasp escaping—and evolving—into something more like a sob.
“Oh,George,” Mom’s voice was soft. “I know.”
I fell into her arms, tears soaking into the floral of her dress, my truths laid bare. “I love him but I can’t have him,” I choked, arms stiff at my sides. She enveloped me, squeezing me close, the warmth of her round frame as soothing as only a mother’s embrace could be. As always, she smelled like sunscreen, cookies, hairspray, and laundry detergent.
“Why not?” she asked, hand scrubbing over my back. Back and forth. Like I was five years old with a skinned knee. Like I was still the little boy whose problems could be fixed with a Band-Aid and a kiss.
“Because I’mleaving.”
And I was.
I was leaving.
It felt more and more real with every hour that passed.
Tomorrow night. The ceremony would wrap up and I’d be on my way to the airport—and back to my life. My real life. The tall, shimmering buildings. The job I’d worked so hard for. The ex that wouldn’t leave me alone. The horrible, awful texts on my phone. The career I’d stubbornly stuck with, though now I was starting to wonder why.
Back to the same fucking Mondays I’d suffered through for nearly a decade.
At least I’d see Mr. Pickles, right?
And Missy.
And my manga collection.
My bright points.
And yet…I felt…so fucking empty.
So empty.
“What if you didn’t?” Mom said, still rubbing back and forth. “What if you stayed? What then?” I had never in a million years expected her to say that. The same woman who bragged about me to every single one of her clients. That made a point to mention my job and my “big city life” every chance she got.
I was…confused to say the least.
Wrong-footed.
“I’ve spent…I’ve spent so long building the life I have.” My voice broke. “Won’t it…mean all of it was for nothing if I leave it behind? That all those years I was away were a waste of time. That moving to New York in the first place is just…another failure? Like—” It was hard to breathe all of a sudden, all my rawest insecurities laid bare. “Like Brendon.”
“Sweetheart.” Mom’s voice was firm, her arms tightening. “Life is about the journey, not the destination.”
“W-what?”
“It takes a lot of bravery to change paths so far down the road,” she murmured softly. “But turning back when you’ve realized you’re goingthe wrong direction? That’s not failure—it’s wisdom. There’s no shame in changing your mind. It’s how we grow. If you never try new things you might never discover what matters most.”
“I could get a job here, yes. But I’d be starting from scratch, abandoning everything I’ve built. And why? Because I spent a week in the woods with a stranger, and decided I was in love with him? It’s illogical,” I said.
“So?” She squeezed me tight. “The best things in life are.”
My chest hurt, and my worry slipped free. The same worry that’d kept me up at night for years. The worry that made all my other concerns pale in comparison.
When I spoke, my voice was barely more than a croak.
“You won’t…you won’t be less…proud of me?”
“Oh, honey, no.” She shook her head, and her blonde hair tickled my cheek. “Fuckno.” I laughed, but the sound was brittle.
