Make me remember (to forget)

Chapter 1

Emily

Why do people get excited about beginnings? New year, new job, new presidential term... 

Sure, a beginning holds many possibilities, it is technically a 'fresh' start. But...we're still the same people. 

I think that beginnings are like candles; no matter how bright they might shine, they're still destined to burn. In other words, we're all fuckups destined to fuck up.

I'm not saying that endings are better. God, I hate endings. If there's anything I hate more than beginnings, it's the endings. Unlike beginnings, endings are more on the emotional extreme of life: they're the parts that are consumed by memories, nostalgia, anxiety, and you know, all the other shitty emotions out there. They're the absolute worst.

What I'm saying is that I like the 'middles'.

By 'middles', I mean the small victories you achieve right before quitting your job, like spitting in your boss' coffee without them knowing or the middle of a song that you scream your heart out to in your car on a Saturday afternoon. I mean the peaceful mid-spring weekends when the weather is a combination of soft sunlight and a cool breeze of air.

I like middles. They're balanced, and I like balance. Sounds very Zen, right? However, don't be fooled. As much as I try, and trust me, I really try my best to stay in the middles, it is impossible to do so.

Because every middle has a beginning and an end. The only thing I can do is shorten the start, delay the ending, and spend as much time as I can in between.

"You must put an end to this, Em."

My eyes meet Adam's soft brown ones. The wrinkles around them deepen as he furrows his thick eyebrows together. My fingers unconsciously move towards his forehead to soothe the lines. "You're in serious need of Botox, old man."

This earns me a small smile. "Old? Thirties are the new twenties."

I scoff. "Who even says that?"

"Thirty-years-old people who are in serious need of Botox?"

I laugh, leaving my fingers linger on his unshaved beard for a second. "The beard isn't helping either. Is this a mid-life crisis thing?"

He shakes his head, pushing my hand away. "Nice try at changing the subject, missy. But you need to stop interfering in your sister's life."

"Adam, I was not interfering. She called me, okay? What do you want me to do, hang up on her?"

He sighs. "That's exactly what you need to do. I know that it's hard, but that's what her mother wants."

His words are a punch to my gut. Before I can say anything, his hand covers mine and squeezes it tightly. "Remember, your real family is the one you choose, not the one you're born into."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes as my chest tightens.

Before I can say anything back, we're interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

"Are you expecting someone?" I ask.

He shakes his head before looking back at his watch. "It's almost ten. That's weird. Who could it be on a Tuesday night?"

"I'll go check," I say before hopping off the couch. I walk towards the front door, getting annoyed when the person knocks again. I hate it when people knock a million times. "Coming," I shout.

If it's another tourist stopping by because they got lost, I'm slamming the door in their faces. Like, sure, I get it, the house looks cozy and people are fascinated with the idea of living in the middle of nowhere, but the entire point of living in the middle of nowhere is to not see people. Let alone tourists.