Fake It Till You Make It

by M. Ullrich

  “I didn’t lie to you—well, at first I did,” Genevieve said, stumbling through her excuse inarticulately. She shook her head in frustration, trying to gather her scattered thoughts.

  “At first when you wanted me to hire you, you mean?”

  “Yes!” Genevieve shivered as the cold bit her through her sweater. “It snowballed from there, but I haven’t lied about us or my feelings for you.”

  “And what about Jeremy?”

  “I told you we dated.”

  “When did you two break up?”

  Genevieve’s heart hammered in her throat. “Christmas Eve.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Harper erupted into maniacal laughter and started to pace. “I’m an idiot!”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am. And I definitely look like one to everyone in my own company.” Harper went silent for a moment as she looked at the sky. When she looked at Genevieve again, small tears shimmered across her lower eyelids.

  Genevieve’s heart slowly shattered, not just for herself, but for causing Harper pain once again.

  “We’re done, you’re fired.” Harper headed back to the office building.

  Genevieve’s chin quivered. “What about forgetting the past? Did you mean any of that?”

  Harper looked back at her, a fraction of her usual warmth hidden deep within a sad smile. “I meant it when I thought I knew you.” She turned away, and tears trailed down Genevieve’s cheeks.

  Harper disappeared around the corner and Genevieve fell onto a nearby bench. She cried quietly to herself, no longer affected by the cold or the two strangers who watched from the other side of the street. She was numb to the temperature. She was numb to everything but the pain that echoed in her chest as her broken heart continued to beat.

  Step Twenty-three

  Reevaluate Your Plan

  A large oak tree grew dangerously close to the window of Genevieve’s childhood bedroom. It had served as the perfect escape when she was a rebellious teen who just wanted to spend a few more hours with Chloe or Jeremy, and it added to the ambience of spooky Halloween night sleepovers.

  But Genevieve had forgotten how it would tap, tap, tap, against her window. The tree didn’t care if it kept Genevieve awake when all she needed or wanted to do was sleep. Even on this sunny afternoon, Genevieve wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and forget, if only for a few hours, the horrid decisions she had made and the unthinkable pain she had caused.

  Even when Tuesday morning rolled around, Genevieve declined her favorite breakfast foods and didn’t want to call Chloe. She wanted none of it. She wanted this constant sadness and pain. She deserved it.

  By Tuesday evening, almost a full thirty-six hours had passed since the last time Genevieve had anything more than small sips of water. Her head spun, and she felt weak when she sat up. She pulled herself from her twin bed, put on a pair of worn slippers, and walked downstairs. Her mother was in the kitchen, cleaning up remnants of the small, two-person meal she had fixed. She’d left a covered plate on the stove for Genevieve.

  “Do we have juice?” Genevieve said. Her voice was gravelly and her throat was sore from crying.

  Sandra twisted the dish towel around her hands. “No, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll run and get some.” Genevieve picked up her keys and went to the door slowly.

  “Are you sure? I just mean, your hair is a bit of a mess.”

  “I’m just running to the corner store,” Genevieve snapped impatiently. She needed to leave, needed to get out from under her mother’s critical gaze. “Maybe when I get back I’ll have dinner.” Her mother smiled so brightly, Genevieve felt a fresh wave of sadness. “I’ll be right back.”

  Genevieve stepped out into the fresh air, crying again the moment she was no longer surrounded by familiar smells. She sat in her car and waited for the engine to warm, shaking with chills and cries. She stared at the house, its lines and details distorted by tears. She thought about her mother’s life. Was she lonely or just alone? After her parents’ divorce, her mother had shown very little interest in meeting someone again, stating that her focus should be on her children, not on strange men. Genevieve felt hollow after losing Harper, and they had only shared a weekend together. What did her mom truly feel after all those years?

  After a deep breath, Genevieve finally pulled out of the driveway and started on her way to the local convenience store. She continued to cry as she drove, marveling at how her body continued to produce tears. Genevieve missed the turn for the store.

  “Dammit.” She turned the wheel as far as it could go and performed a full U-turn in the middle of her neighborhood’s main street. She didn’t think twice because no one was around in Milan, never mind in the middle of winter. When she righted the car and continued on her mission for juice, blue and red lights flashed from behind her. “Seriously?” Genevieve rolled her wet eyes and pulled over.

  The officer climbed out of his department issue sedan and approached her car. Genevieve was prepared with her window down and license and registration in hand.

  “Do you know why I pulled you over?” said the bundled cop.

  “Illegal U-turn?”

  “You got…wait.” The police officer bent down and peered into the car. “Gen?”

  To Genevieve’s chagrin, the officer was one of Jeremy’s closest friends. “Hey, Pete.”

  “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

  “My return was unexpected.”

  “Does Jeremy know you’re visiting? How long are you in town for?” He fired off his questions rapidly, leaving Genevieve to wonder if he had just aced a course in interrogation techniques. “How’s Jersey treating you? You look great!”

  “Thanks. Um, Jeremy doesn’t know I’m back, and I’m not sure how long I plan on staying.”

  “I bet you can’t wait to get back to Jersey,” he said excitedly. “I heard you’re a big shot now.”

  Genevieve felt tears begin to well up again. She tried to rush the conversation along. “Are you going to write me a ticket?”

  “Of course not! Jeez, Gen, you taught my baby sister how to ride a bike. How could I give you a ticket?” Pete scratched at the back of his neck.

  Genevieve didn’t expect to encounter kindness during this ride, and it hit her hard. Before she could rein in it, she started to cry again. The first sob that tore from her throat was so powerful, the burly police officer jumped. Pete reached hesitantly into the car window to pat Genevieve on the back.

  “Are you okay?”

  Genevieve cried harder and let loose every heavy thought that weighed on her heart and mind. “I lied during my job interview,” she sobbed. “And my boss found out and I got fired!”

  “Everyone lies during interviews.”

  She pinned him with her watery stare. “I said I was a lesbian, which now, ironically enough, seems to be fairly truthful, but that didn’t matter to Harper.”

  “Harper?”

  “That’s my boss and my girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend. She didn’t know I was with Jeremy when she hired me and she found out thanks to her bitch of an ex-wife!” Genevieve reached into the compartment of her center console and pulled out a fast food napkin to blow her nose. “I tried to tell her the truth, but she insisted on forgetting the past.” She blew her nose forcefully. “I wasn’t lying to her, not after I knew I loved her.”

  Pete stood stunned. He looked back to his running police car and then again to Genevieve. “And what’re you up to now?”

  “I haven’t eaten in days and all I wanted was juice. We don’t have any juice…” Genevieve broke down into steady cries again.

  “You really shouldn’t drive in your condition, but let’s get you some juice.”

  The police escort to and from the convenience store was a bit much, but Genevieve was eternally grateful to Pete for watching over her as she essentially stumbled across town. The flashing lights must’ve caught her mother’s attention when Genevieve arrive
d back home because she came running out to the front porch before Genevieve got out of her car.

  “Are you okay?” Her mother held her close and looked for wounds.

  “I’m fine, Mom. That was just Pete.”

  “Oh.” Sandra stepped back in relief. “Well, come on, I’ll reheat your dinner.”

  “I think I’m just going to go back to bed.” Genevieve shivered and held a large jug of cranberry juice closer to her chest. Retelling her tragic story, if even just a brief recap, to Pete had exhausted what little energy Genevieve had in her reserves.

  “You have to eat.”

  “I will. Just not tonight. Tomorrow, I promise.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and went back up the stairs and climbed into bed.

  The cranberry juice quenched Genevieve’s thirst and hunger for sugar, but she regretted not having the foresight to get vodka along the way as well.

  *

  The next morning felt a little easier for Genevieve. She took a long shower and only cried a little. She brushed her teeth and only zoned out into her reflection momentarily before getting back on track. She even put on the clean set of pajamas her mother left on the foot of her bed. Genevieve considered getting fully dressed for the day, but that would imply a readiness for the real world she definitely wasn’t feeling yet. Her stomach growled from the smell of bacon wafting up from the kitchen.

  She ran for the stairs, visualizing a large breakfast waiting for her. By the time she reached the final step, she heard chitchat coming from the kitchen. Her mother was talking to someone, and that someone had a deep voice that sounded exactly like…

  “Jeremy?” Genevieve rounded the corner into the kitchen, and she stared between her mother and ex-boyfriend quizzically.

  “Hey, Gen,” he said, standing quickly. Genevieve looked him up and down, suspicious of his presence and intentions. He was clean-shaven and dressed in a wrinkle-free polo and khakis, clothes he often wore for work, but the school day was already well under way. “Pete called me last night.”

  “Oh.” Genevieve looked at a stack of pancakes and bacon on the stovetop. She was starving, but would she still have an appetite if Jeremy continued to talk? “Do you mind if I eat?”

  “Please!” Sandra rushed to the stovetop and grabbed the plate. She placed it in front of Genevieve just as she sat, adding syrup and leaving to prepare a cup of coffee.

  “What exactly did Pete tell you?” Genevieve said. She cut at her pancakes aggressively, tearing them into pieces instead of slicing. She stuffed her mouth with more than she was capable of chewing with ease.

  Jeremy stared at Genevieve’s overstuffed mouth with wide eyes. “Um, nothing much, just that you were back and seemed upset.”

  Genevieve added a bite of bacon to her still-full mouth.

  “I wanted to check on you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Sandra snorted and went back to cleaning up.

  Jeremy reached across the small tabletop and grabbed Genevieve’s hand, but she pulled back immediately. “Talk to me, Gen.”

  “I don’t have anything to say, especially not to you.” Maybe Jeremy only remembered the positives of their relationship, but Genevieve mostly thought about their final conversation.

  Jeremy sighed. “You’re back, and that’s what matters most. I think we should talk about what to do next.”

  “First off, I’m not ‘back.’” Genevieve made finger quotes in the air. “And secondly, what do you mean ‘we’?” She hooked her fingers again.

  “You left Milan, Gen. You got out of here, and I think we can all agree that the world wasn’t as nice to you as you expected it to be.” Sandra left the kitchen in a hurry once Jeremy started to speak inclusively. “But you lived it, and now you know that this is where you belong.” Jeremy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He placed it on the table and looked at Genevieve with large, hopeful eyes. “You belong here with me.”

  Genevieve felt panicked. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, boy,” Sandra said quietly.

  Genevieve looked over Jeremy’s shoulder at her mother. She was standing still in the doorway, and Genevieve pleaded with her eyes for her mother, her protector, to save her from this moment.

  “Genevieve,” Jeremy said. He stumbled through her full name, and Genevieve thought about how poetically the three syllables sounded when Harper said them. A pang of guilt sank deeper into her heart.

  “Jeremy…” Genevieve shook her head.

  “Will you marry me? Finally?” He smiled broadly, and the look in his eyes said he never expected Genevieve’s life to be anything but him and this small town.

  Without even opening it, Genevieve pushed the ring box away. “No.”

  “No?” Jeremy’s smile fell.

  “No! And I don’t know why you thought I’d say yes!” Genevieve ran her fingers through her now-knotted hair. “I broke up with you because I have feelings for someone else.”

  Jeremy laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…You move away on a whim and fall for someone unexpectedly?” Jeremy said in a mocking tone. “It’s classic Gen—acting without thinking. If you just think for a minute, you’ll see this is the life for you.”

  Genevieve took a deep calming breath. She could be irrational and too spontaneous for her own good. Her recent heartache was a constant reminder of that, but she had walked away from a life that no longer fit in order to find what was meant to be all along. She controlled her temper and tone. “You should go.”

  “Not without an answer.”

  “I gave you my answer!” Genevieve shouted.

  “I think you should give it a little more thought.”

  “Oh my God, please shut up. I’m not a child who needs to be coached in making better decisions. I know what I want and what I don’t want. I don’t want to marry you.” Genevieve watched her words register on Jeremy’s face. He stood abruptly, his chair screeching across the floor.

  “Just add this to your long list of terrible decisions.” He stormed toward the front door, nearly knocking Sandra over. When he opened it, Chloe stood on the other side, poised to knock. She stepped aside wordlessly. His truck’s exhaust roared as he sped away from the house.

  “Was he always that much of an asshole?” Sandra said. She walked over and closed the front door behind Chloe.

  “Yup.” Genevieve shook her head. “And he wonders why I lied to land a job in New Jersey and fell in love with my female boss.”

  Sandra froze with her hand on the doorknob. “Oh, my…” She shook her head. “Let me put on another pot of coffee. I have a feeling I’m in for a very long story.”

  Genevieve ate two plates of pancakes and washed it all down with a large cup of coffee as she told everything from the beginning. She wasn’t surprised when her mother asked questions like whether she made her bed before having Harper over and if Harper was as attractive as Chloe and Genevieve led her to believe. Chloe took out her phone and showed Sandra a picture from the Out Shore holiday party. Genevieve smiled when her mother’s jaw dropped.

  “Is that what’s lurking in New Jersey? If so, I think I’m ready to move!” Sandra put on her colorful reading glasses and pulled Chloe’s phone closer. “I’d have left Jeremy, too.”

  “See, Gen? Even your mother is unfazed by you falling for a chick,” Chloe said.

  “I didn’t leave Jeremy because of Harper alone.” Genevieve glared at Chloe. “She’s a large part of it, yes, but Jeremy and I didn’t fit anymore. It sounds terrible, but I outgrew him.”

  Sandra added her motherly insight then. “Sweetheart, I think it’s safe to say you outgrew him a long time ago.”

  “Your mother’s right, Gen.”

  “I know.” Genevieve sat back into her chair with a huff.

  After a beat of silence, Chloe asked the question Genevieve had been silently pondering since her arrival on her mother’s doorstep. “What are you going to do next?”

&n
bsp; “Eat more pancakes?” Genevieve said with a plastic smile.

  “I’m serious, Gen. What are you going to do? Stay in Jersey? Move back here?”

  “I really don’t know. I have to find a new job, but I’m afraid of listing Out Shore as previous employment and having a potential employer ask why I left. What if they contact Harper as a reference?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Sandra said. “If everything you’ve told me about this woman is true, I believe she’d keep her personal feelings separate from her professional ones. You did a wonderful job while you worked for her, and that would surely shine through.”

  “Sandra’s right. Just start applying and see what happens.”

  “But stay in Jersey,” Sandra said. “You’re obviously happier there.”

  Genevieve sipped at the remnants of her coffee and considered her mother’s words carefully. Yes, she was happier in New Jersey. Her life in Asbury had been flourishing and lively, but how much of that happiness and promise relied on Harper and her job at Out Shore? Genevieve would have to head back to her apartment in order to find out.

  Step Twenty-four

  Travel Different Avenues

  Genevieve arrived back at her apartment late on Thursday evening. She had left Pennsylvania with a new sense of determination to not let a breakup hinder her progress as a professional. If her short time at Out Shore had taught Genevieve anything, it was that she was a talented journalist, and her talent would not waver.

  Upon her first step over the threshold, Genevieve noticed all the reminders of her time with Harper: dishes in the sink, sheets a mess, and the sweatshirt Harper had borrowed during her short stay thrown across the back of the couch. Genevieve’s emotions started to take over. She felt desperation fueling her need to reach for her phone. One message, a short question asking whether Harper would be willing to spare a moment to listen—the desire to reach out burned in her fingertips. But Genevieve denied that temptation. She had to focus on herself.