Liar, Liar

Epilogue

When I was little, I thought I'd be a grown up the day I turned eighteen. As if a switch would turn, my brain would go from lipgloss, school, boys! to bills, taxes, mortgages. I had this twisted idea that I would know everything I needed to know about life at that point. Looking back on it, when I was eighteen, my biggest problem was picking out a prom dress and I didn't even know how to spell mortgages.

When I was eighteen, I thought that I'd be a grown up when I turned twenty-one. I don't really know why I always set these exact dates, at eighteen I should've known that adulthood doesn't come in one night. However, I thought that twenty-one was the year for being a grown up. I could drink, drive and vote now.

Now I'm twenty-two. I work in a jewelry store even though I don't know the first thing about diamonds (except that they are shiny and expensive), I have a roommate, I paint the floor of my apartment (and my thighs if the opportunity presents itself), I drink away my problems (not a good habit, I should stop that) and I have no idea where I'm going in life. I don't even have a plan for when I graduate.

Nevertheless, the state of New York says that I am an adult, even though I still call my parents for help when signing contracts or buying plane tickets. I'm still kind of scared of the dark and I hate asking employees for help when I'm shopping.

I don't feel like an adult. Adults know what they're doing. I have no idea – sort of.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid (a little naive, but not stupid). I have a car and I pay my rent. I study full-time and still manage my life to some extent. I know that I'm making pasta for dinner tonight and that I need to pick up goldfish food on the way home (because, as I predicted, Fern can't take care of shit).

When I turn twenty-five, I know I'll be an adult.

As of right now though, I'm just going by day by day, trying to be a better person than I was yesterday.

Right now I'm doing that by not yelling at Magdalena or hitting her upside her head for sleeping in the back room again. I'm tapping my nails against the glass counter in the store, staring off into the distance while I think of all the ways you can kill a coworker without getting caught.

Okay, so maybe I'm not that great of a person yet, but I'm working on it.

An hour has gone by and we've had twenty customers during that time. I usually feel very useless when I work here. Not a lot of people come to buy, they just want to look... Hey, can I help you with anything today? And they'll respond, Oh, I'm just looking.

Well, get a magazine.

Okay, now I just sound salty. Shape up, B.

I guess I still hate working in a jewelry shop.

It's six o'clock. One hour before we close. I go into the back room and take a swig of my water bottle while glaring at Magdalena who is sprawled over the old couch. From the store, I hear the bell ring and instinctively I rush out to greet them. Who would've thought that I actually knew the person?

"Adam..." I exhale, slowly inching closer to the counter and putting my hands on the corner of it. The guy in question offers me a solemn smile and approaches the counter. Out of his pocket, he pulls out a small blue, velvet box. I already know exactly how the ring looks, what it cost and whose finger it is supposed to be on by now. It pulls at my heart-strings.

He doesn't say anything, only stares at the ground. On impulse, I reach over and tilt his head up again, gently stroking his cheek. A stubble has appeared, giving Adam a more rugged, unkempt look. He probably hasn't shaved since that disastrous one week ago.

"I'm sorry," I say compassionately, pulling back and looking at the box in front of me. It's kind of symbolic how it all started with this ring and now, I'm looking at that same damn ring that I once found beautiful. Now I can't look at it without feeling the sharp pain in my thigh from when Ashley threw it at me and her hurt face when she realized what Adam and I had done behind her back.

I finish his transaction and take the ring out of the box to put it back into the display. A wave of nausea hits me and I have to bite my lip harshly as to not barf or burst out crying.

In a sudden movement, Adam places his hand over mine and squeezes is gently. "I am too," he says. I look into his eyes but they're different than the ones I fell in love with. They're worn, tired and he's only one year older than me. I wonder if mine look similar. I haven't been feeling like myself lately.

Thinking about it, I don't think I've been feeling like myself for two months.

Adam retracts himself from me and turn towards the door. An uncomfortable feeling rises within me. I'll probably not see Adam in a very long time – if ever.

"Adam," I call and he turns around expectantly. I give him my best smile and a small wave.

"Have a good life."

**

I come home feeling all sorts of emotions. I feel like I just came home from a funeral, but I also feel like the worst is over and there is only up from here. Fern is blasting music in the living room, painting flowers on the fish tank.

"You're compromising his view," I say and Fern jumps around, her hand on her heart.

"You scared me!"

I shrug and throw my purse on the floor when I fall into the couch. Fern is quick to pick up on my mood and turns the music down significantly.

"You okay?"

"Adam came to return the ring..."

Saying it makes my heart wrench painfully. It makes the whole situation more real somehow, and I don't like it at all.

"You wanna talk about it?" she says carefully. I shake my head.

"I'm going to be okay pretty soon. It was sort of nice to see him though."

All of a sudden, Fern looks me dead in the eye. "Can I paint you?"

And she does. I sit on the chair of inspiration while she paints her guts out. We turn up the music and Willow comes over later, just watching. We barely hear it, but there is a knock on the door.

My pulse starts racing. Even though I'm trying to calm myself and dismiss the idea, I can't help but think it is Adam. But that wouldn't change anything anyways, and I know I'm just hoping for the impossible.

I open the door with my heart in my throat and am very surprised to see a small, Asian man outside, hands crossed.

Before I get to say anything, he shouts, "Turn the fucking music down!"

And I have to admit I was waiting for him to stop by with that message.

Ah the epilogue is out! I'm so relieved and sad. It was a blast writing this story! I hope you liked it <3