leave. I could stop wasting time and figure out which way to go to start over…or perhaps not choose to go on at all.
I continue with the story of my life, knowing that my time with Liam will end very shortly.
I counted the days until I finally turned eighteen. I may have been the world’s biggest pessimist a cynic on the outside, but inside, I was still a hopeful girl. I still wanted hearts and flowers. I still wanted a Julia Roberts, Pretty Woman moment when Prince Charming came to my rescue. I craved the Dirty Dancing scene when Johnny returns for Baby. I may have said something different if asked, but I wanted it all, I wanted the fantasy. I could lie to the world but I couldn’t lie to myself.
It was my junior year of high school. I was almost a whole year older than everybody else in my grade because I started school late, thanks to being sick with the measles at six years old. I had missed a few months of school and then fell behind, so my parents decided that I would start first grade a whole year later. I was beyond happy because that meant I had my friend Emily in the same class with me.
On my eighteenth birthday, I had this romantic idea that Jeff, for whom I’d been waiting the last three years, would finally come and claim me. I had this scenario worked up where he came and swept me off my feet. I’d imagined being with him in so many ways that I actually felt that in some fucked-up way, we were a real couple. I actually thought that he belonged to me because he called me once a month to tell me that on that day he thought about me. I actually believed he’d been patiently and celibately waiting for me, thinking of me, dreaming of me. My infantile imagination was convinced that a grown, gorgeous man that had only called me a handful of times and who hasn’t seen me in two whole years somehow wanted me as much as I wanted him. My stupid self thought that a liar like me could still one day have a happy ending. I prayed that my faithful, imaginary lover would come and make all my lies true. I even promised myself never to make up another story for as long as I lived once we were together.
If I had actually spoken to my parents, they would’ve known that I needed therapy. If I had told someone what was going on, maybe they could’ve explained to me that I was inconsequential to him and we were not meant to be. That it was time to give boys who actually liked me a chance. That it was all just a childish fantasy and it was time to grow up. But I spoke to no one. I was the judge, jury, and prosecutor. I was my own worst enemy.
He didn’t come on my eighteen birthday like my head and heart let me believe that he would. He didn’t come, he didn’t call, he didn’t anything. On my birthday, I told Emily that Jeff and I were going to a hotel for the night where it would be okay to stay in bed all day and no one would find us. Well, what I really said was “All Night Long” by Lionel Richie, which meant we would be fucking all night and that was how I wanted to spend my birthday. Emily didn’t question me. Why would she? This was exactly how The Sara would spend her birthday—wrapped up with a hot guy in a hotel on the other side of town.
I recall not attending school that day, telling my mother I wasn’t well. I called my brother because it was almost six in the evening and he still hadn’t called to wish me a happy birthday. “Eddie, hi, it’s me, Sara.”
“Sara, I know it’s you. Is everything okay? You sound upset, is it Mom again?” he asked me, shedding the carefree sound in his voice.
“No, everybody is okay. I just missed you. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Wanted to know what you’re up to.” Truthfully, besides a simple “Happy birthday” from him, I’d hoped to hear something about Jeff. Anything would’ve been better than nothing.
“Sorry, sis, it’s been an insane amount of work for me lately. Between studying and writing my paper, I’ve got no time to call anybody. I