My shriveled heart has experienced too many emotions this week, and it collapses under the burden. Tears spring to my eyes, then trickle down my cheeks. But I continue.
“I distanced myself from you guys because I didn’t want to be another reason you hated each other.”
“Honey, how could you ever think that?” Mom says and comes to my side. “You were never an issue between us. You were our glue.”
Exactly. I was the only thing forcing them together when they couldn’t stand each other.
“But if it wasn’t for me, you guys wouldn’t have fought all the time.” I look between the two of them, waiting for them to admit my part in this all.
Dad grabs my hand, his large fingers protecting mine. “Your mom and I fought because that’s what we did. From the first moment we met, we fought. Some might say that’s passion, but for us it was a ticking time bomb, ready to blow with the next strike.Youhad nothing to do with that. Since I met your mother twenty-two years ago, we have only successfully agreed on one thing.” His voice cracks. “That you were our best decision.”
I wipe my nose on my sleeve. If it wasn’t me who ruined their marriage, then it was something else. Love. “So love destroyed you, then?” I glance at my mom. “You said love was just a game people played until they couldn’t play anymore.”
Mom tucks her brown hair behind her ear and sighs. “I was wrong. Love didn’t work for us because we didn’t want it to. But our hearts will never run out of love for you.”
No. How can she claim that if they never had enough love for each other?
I’ve turned my world upsidedown to stay away from love because all it does is destroy. I didn’t do it for nothing. “How can you believe in love after what you’ve been through? I’ve promised myself I won’t make the same mistakes you did, and I’ve pushed everyone away.”
Dad squeezes my hand. “And are you happy?”
My chin quivers, and my eyes turn to waterfalls. “No.”
“Neither were we.” Mom whispers. “But our therapist told us something that has changed our perspective. Love isn’t a give-and-take. It’s a give, and give, and give.”
“Huh?”
“Let me rephrase.” Dad smiles softly. “If love was an equation, it wouldn’t be fifty percent, plus fifty percent, equals one hundred percent.
My eyebrows tug together. I know math, that equation works.
“The only way to get one hundred percent in a relationship is if both partners give it one hundred percent. One hundred, plus one hundred, equals one hundred.”
It sounds so simple when he puts it that way. But there are so many more variables that go into a relationship. So many other forces tearing it at the seams.
“But if Mich—” I freeze on my words, and Dad raises a quizzical brow. I swallow. “But what if you give everything, and it still doesn’t work out?”
Dad studies my face. “Not everything does. But if you give it your all, you won’t regret trying. The only regret we have is that we haven’t been giving you our all when we should have been. You deserved more and from now on, that’s what we’ll give you.”
Michael’s face fills my mind. I didn’t give him anything close to my all. I held an expiration date over our relationship from the beginning. What could have happened if I hadn’t?
Mom squeezes my hand again. “You have a great mathematical mind, but sometimes the greatest problems aren’t solved with a logical solution.”
Isn’t that accurate? I thought I came up with the perfect formula for not getting hurt, and I still wound up stapling the broken pieces of my heart backtogether. News flash: It only hurt more.
I let out a breath. It’s a relief to admit it, if only to myself. I’m miserable without him. Maybe it’s time to forget about what the rational part of my brain thinks and take a leap off the cliff.
Metaphorically this time.
If falling in love isn’t smart, then I guess I’m ready to try something stupid.
“I know you probably have a lot on your mind, and you wanted to be alone for Christmas, but could we maybe hang out with you for tonight?” my mom asks. The desperation in her eyes breaks my heart. It was the same desperation Michael had when I left him.
I’m truly the worst. Christmas is for families, for love.
A sob rips through my chest. “I don’t want to be alone on Christmas.”
“Me neither,” Mom and Dad say simultaneously, and for the first time in possibly fifteen years, they both laugh.
