The Break-Up Pact

Back then it felt like the grief would swallow us whole. It’s different now, more like the waves at our feet—constantly ebbing and flowing, swollen one moment and quiet the next. A tide I can dip my feet into and let myself feel, or a swell that will hit me from behind when I least expect it.

life is both too short and too long for being something you're not

You shouldn't have to settle for someone to love you.

I want to keep making stories with you

seems like you’ve already moved on.” “Thank you,” I say

the Tea Tide that feels like home. The Tea Tide that feels like sitting on the porch with our mom, bare feet dangling from the chairs, little hands reaching for the decaf tea she poured out of the pot. The Tea Tide that feels like looking over at Annie from the brims of our mugs, a shared spark between sisters, a happy, hopeful, messy moment in time that feels more preserved in this version of Tea Tide than it ever was.

Neither of you wants to change the other one or tell the other what to do. You just want each other to be happy. And that’s what love is supposed to look like.

I’m not stalling because I’m scared of asking Annie. I’m stalling because I’m scared of moving forward myself.

I hope it isn’t really over. I hope this whole day was just a silly, overblown blip. I hope it so recklessly that there isn’t any other feeling left, and then I hold on to it like a balloon, trying my best not to squeeze it so tight that it bursts.

Then she says, “Oh, trust me. I’m used to finishing off Levi’s desserts by now.” My eyes go wide and hers just stay trained on mine, unyielding. She pulls out her clutch to pay. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” I say. As I bag up the scone, something in me rises to meet her, turning to steel. “Levi’s already our best customer.

But by then I was so angry with him that I wouldn’t budge. I told myself it was the only choice I had, the only way to protect myself from the hurt—but now that I’m looking into Levi’s eyes, I understand that it wasn’t just that. I was looking to punish him. I wanted him to feel just as awful as I did, so I seized on my own silence like a weapon.

Do not entertain this dessert delinquent,

swallow us whole. It’s different now, more like the waves at our feet—constantly ebbing and flowing, swollen one moment and quiet the next. A tide I can dip my feet into and let myself feel, or a swell that will hit me from behind when I least expect it.

Is that why you’re here? So we can form a Benson Beach viral break-up support group? Because I don’t really have time for niche extracurriculars right now.

I hope so. Being a self-actualized single woman is nice and all, but god, am I bored.

Do you think gouda gets upset about getting older? No. It just gets more expensive at Trader Joe's.

I don't think anyone ever gets to be settled in life. I think you just fine people who weather it with you.

I think we don't have control over what happens. But we control how we react to it.