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“And who knows, maybe someone famous will respond to my ad... Maybe Johnny Depp will respond! I've always loved him since he played that man with the knives on his hands.”
― White Lies
― White Lies
“I have been cheated. The file had a few pieces of worthless information about me and some of my performance reviews (which I had to sign– so it wasn’t anything new). The rest were blank pieces of paper, which Oliver obviously put in there to make it look more enticing. It also only briefly mentioned the meeting with Spencer, saying I had shown interest in marketing with a red pen mark at the bottom which said: Accused Marketing Director of being a narcissistic bastard. Follow up?
They hadn’t even indicated whose side they were on, which is slightly disappointing.”
― White Lies
They hadn’t even indicated whose side they were on, which is slightly disappointing.”
― White Lies
“Now, I don’t like to be self-depreciating and all– but if this guy has to search the want ads to find love then I might as well join the convent now. I wonder if the celibacy thing is optional...”
― White Lies
― White Lies
“I like you. You like me. We like each other. We are going to be fine.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Paul McKenna says that if you want something to happen then you have to “see” it happen... and I definitely see Alan having a fabulous time and wondering how soon we can be married.
Okay, maybe that’s too much– I see Alan having a fabulous time and wondering how soon we can be engaged.”
― White Lies
Okay, maybe that’s too much– I see Alan having a fabulous time and wondering how soon we can be engaged.”
― White Lies
“Scott doesn’t suspect anything, right?” I ask.
“Are you kidding? He knows pretty much everything,” Travis says as if there was ever a doubt.
“What? Did you tell him?” I accuse.
“Etty, he’s turning thirty. He’d have to be a moron to not know there is going to be a party. You always order food from the same place, and we both live in a shoe box, so your parents’ house is the only place that could fit more than five people. It didn’t take Einstein.”
I chew on my bottom lip.
“We will have to do something spontaneous,” I say, nodding my head.
“Slow down,” he says, holding up his hands. “Don’t go crazy. The party we planned is fine.”
Why does everyone always say that to me? Like they think I go overboard on everything.
Which is so untrue. Everything I plan is with love, and I am in complete control the whole time. It’s the plans that have a mind of their own. I mean, did I ask the magician to put my mom in that box for his ‘Disappearing Trick’ even though my mother’s claustrophobic? No. And after I calmed her down and she drank a bottle of wine I think even she appreciated that it was a pretty cool trick. And my dad fumbling with the keys to get her unlocked and punching out the magician− it was so romantic.
Sadly, I did lose my security deposit on that one.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Are you kidding? He knows pretty much everything,” Travis says as if there was ever a doubt.
“What? Did you tell him?” I accuse.
“Etty, he’s turning thirty. He’d have to be a moron to not know there is going to be a party. You always order food from the same place, and we both live in a shoe box, so your parents’ house is the only place that could fit more than five people. It didn’t take Einstein.”
I chew on my bottom lip.
“We will have to do something spontaneous,” I say, nodding my head.
“Slow down,” he says, holding up his hands. “Don’t go crazy. The party we planned is fine.”
Why does everyone always say that to me? Like they think I go overboard on everything.
Which is so untrue. Everything I plan is with love, and I am in complete control the whole time. It’s the plans that have a mind of their own. I mean, did I ask the magician to put my mom in that box for his ‘Disappearing Trick’ even though my mother’s claustrophobic? No. And after I calmed her down and she drank a bottle of wine I think even she appreciated that it was a pretty cool trick. And my dad fumbling with the keys to get her unlocked and punching out the magician− it was so romantic.
Sadly, I did lose my security deposit on that one.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“How much does this thing cost?” Travis says, walking closer to it.
Honestly, Travis is always like this. A negative nelly is what my mother would call him. He always has to ask the questions that nobody wants to answer because it ruins all the fun.
“Well, that’s a hard question. Are you talking about the rental price or the price of all the smiles on everyone’s faces as they are having the time of their lives?”
“The rental price.”
“Well, here’s the thing−” I start, but he holds his hand up and looks to Tina.
“$1599.00 plus deposit and taxes,” she says.
“WHAT?” Travis exclaims. “No way! Forget it. This is a veto.”
“You can’t use a veto for this!” I argue.
“Well, I just did,” he says, shrugging.
I can see he has already put the idea out of his mind, which is completely ridiculous. I mean, I know it is pretty expensive, but then I think of all the fun memories everyone will make together− and can you really put a price on that?
“Travis, you’re not seeing the bigger picture here!” I argue.
“We said a small party. A couple of friends, some food and wine. This,” he says, pointing to the obstacle course, “is not small.”
“Who wants small for a thirtieth birthday party? I mean, you only turn thirty once−” From the look on Travis’ face I decide to switch tactics. “What about if we charge people?”
“You’re crazy,” he says.
“Not our guests, but the neighbours and stuff. Kind of like a carnival.”
Actually, I just thought of that idea right here and now, but it’s not a bad one. Plus, it might be easier to have the neighbours agree to have it on the street if I let them join in the fun.
“Or we could just stick to the regular plan,” Travis says and turns to Tina. “I’m sorry we wasted your time.”
I already know the next part of this conversation is not going to go well.
“I kind of already put the deposit down,” I say, trying to get an imaginary piece of dirt off my sweater.
No one says anything and I am starting to feel pretty sorry for Tina because she looks beyond uncomfortable with the conversation.
“What kind of deposit?” Travis says in a low tone.
“The non-refundable kind,” I say, biting my lip.
“How much was the deposit?” he asks, looking from me to Tina. Tina’s eyes are wide and she looks to me desperately, asking me to rescue her from this awkwardness.
Honestly, if anyone needs a life jacket right now− it’s me.
“Nimfy perfin,” I mumble.
“What?”
“Ninety percent,” I say, meeting his eyes. “The remaining ten percent is due on delivery.”
“You really are crazy,” he says, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what you are getting all worked up about,” I say. “I’m paying for it!”
“Etty, this… thing… is your rent for the month!”
“I’ll take extra shifts,” I say, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure Scott’s day was really special.”
“It’s going to be special because he’s with his friends and family. You don’t need to do these things.”
“Yes, I do!” I say. “It’s how I show people that I care about them.”
“Write them a nice card,” Travis says slowly.
“I knew you wouldn’t understand. You’re always the storm cloud that rains on my parade!”
“No, I’m the voice of reason in a land of eternal sunshine and daisies,” he says, and turns to Tina. “Is there any way we can get her deposit back?”
Tina is now fidgeting with her skirt. “No, I’m sorry, but−”
“Don’t worry Tina, I don’t want my deposit back. What I want is my brother to have the best day ever with his friends and family on a hundred foot inflatable obstacle course,” I narrow my eyes at Travis while lifting my purse further up my shoulder. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and start my first of twenty overtime shifts to pay for the best day of all of our lives.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
Honestly, Travis is always like this. A negative nelly is what my mother would call him. He always has to ask the questions that nobody wants to answer because it ruins all the fun.
“Well, that’s a hard question. Are you talking about the rental price or the price of all the smiles on everyone’s faces as they are having the time of their lives?”
“The rental price.”
“Well, here’s the thing−” I start, but he holds his hand up and looks to Tina.
“$1599.00 plus deposit and taxes,” she says.
“WHAT?” Travis exclaims. “No way! Forget it. This is a veto.”
“You can’t use a veto for this!” I argue.
“Well, I just did,” he says, shrugging.
I can see he has already put the idea out of his mind, which is completely ridiculous. I mean, I know it is pretty expensive, but then I think of all the fun memories everyone will make together− and can you really put a price on that?
“Travis, you’re not seeing the bigger picture here!” I argue.
“We said a small party. A couple of friends, some food and wine. This,” he says, pointing to the obstacle course, “is not small.”
“Who wants small for a thirtieth birthday party? I mean, you only turn thirty once−” From the look on Travis’ face I decide to switch tactics. “What about if we charge people?”
“You’re crazy,” he says.
“Not our guests, but the neighbours and stuff. Kind of like a carnival.”
Actually, I just thought of that idea right here and now, but it’s not a bad one. Plus, it might be easier to have the neighbours agree to have it on the street if I let them join in the fun.
“Or we could just stick to the regular plan,” Travis says and turns to Tina. “I’m sorry we wasted your time.”
I already know the next part of this conversation is not going to go well.
“I kind of already put the deposit down,” I say, trying to get an imaginary piece of dirt off my sweater.
No one says anything and I am starting to feel pretty sorry for Tina because she looks beyond uncomfortable with the conversation.
“What kind of deposit?” Travis says in a low tone.
“The non-refundable kind,” I say, biting my lip.
“How much was the deposit?” he asks, looking from me to Tina. Tina’s eyes are wide and she looks to me desperately, asking me to rescue her from this awkwardness.
Honestly, if anyone needs a life jacket right now− it’s me.
“Nimfy perfin,” I mumble.
“What?”
“Ninety percent,” I say, meeting his eyes. “The remaining ten percent is due on delivery.”
“You really are crazy,” he says, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what you are getting all worked up about,” I say. “I’m paying for it!”
“Etty, this… thing… is your rent for the month!”
“I’ll take extra shifts,” I say, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure Scott’s day was really special.”
“It’s going to be special because he’s with his friends and family. You don’t need to do these things.”
“Yes, I do!” I say. “It’s how I show people that I care about them.”
“Write them a nice card,” Travis says slowly.
“I knew you wouldn’t understand. You’re always the storm cloud that rains on my parade!”
“No, I’m the voice of reason in a land of eternal sunshine and daisies,” he says, and turns to Tina. “Is there any way we can get her deposit back?”
Tina is now fidgeting with her skirt. “No, I’m sorry, but−”
“Don’t worry Tina, I don’t want my deposit back. What I want is my brother to have the best day ever with his friends and family on a hundred foot inflatable obstacle course,” I narrow my eyes at Travis while lifting my purse further up my shoulder. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and start my first of twenty overtime shifts to pay for the best day of all of our lives.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Are you meeting someone here?” I ask him and quickly look around. For some reason the thought of Tina showing up makes my fists clench. Not that I would attack her, I’m not a physical person. But I would give her the staring of a lifetime.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“I told you not to bother coming. Scott or Travis would have shown up eventually, and now you’re all here,” she grumbles. I see my dad’s head pop into the doorway opening.
“Did Lloyd make it?” he asks, searching the driveway with his eyes. My car is actually my dad’s old car from when he was a teenager. He kept it all this time, first giving it to Scott, and then when Scott upgraded to a dependable Toyota he gave the little hatchback to me.
I can’t afford to get a new car, but even if I could choose, I would still choose Lloyd. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl and we talk about Lloyd more than is probably healthy. It drives my mother crazy.
“Was there any doubt?” I say. “It’s going to take more than a little snow to keep that bad boy down.”
Though a heat wave will do it from a cracked radiator, but we both choose not to mention it.
My mother rolls her eyes.
“Make yourself comfortable you two,” I say. “You’re in for a treat today.”
My mother raises her eyebrows at my excited tone.
“We’re racing to clear the driveway,” I say with a grin.
“Etty, why do you do this to yourself? When have you ever won?” My mother shakes her head and gives me a pitying look.
“I’m stronger than I look!” I argue.
“I know honey,” she says. “But those boys double you in weight andstrength.”
“I’m quicker,” I say, though with not as much conviction as before. She might have a point here.
My dad looks amused by the whole thing.
“I’ll go boil the kettle, get you some warm water for your tongue,” she offers before going back into the house.
“Give ’em hell, honey,” Dad says, winking before closing the door.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Did Lloyd make it?” he asks, searching the driveway with his eyes. My car is actually my dad’s old car from when he was a teenager. He kept it all this time, first giving it to Scott, and then when Scott upgraded to a dependable Toyota he gave the little hatchback to me.
I can’t afford to get a new car, but even if I could choose, I would still choose Lloyd. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl and we talk about Lloyd more than is probably healthy. It drives my mother crazy.
“Was there any doubt?” I say. “It’s going to take more than a little snow to keep that bad boy down.”
Though a heat wave will do it from a cracked radiator, but we both choose not to mention it.
My mother rolls her eyes.
“Make yourself comfortable you two,” I say. “You’re in for a treat today.”
My mother raises her eyebrows at my excited tone.
“We’re racing to clear the driveway,” I say with a grin.
“Etty, why do you do this to yourself? When have you ever won?” My mother shakes her head and gives me a pitying look.
“I’m stronger than I look!” I argue.
“I know honey,” she says. “But those boys double you in weight andstrength.”
“I’m quicker,” I say, though with not as much conviction as before. She might have a point here.
My dad looks amused by the whole thing.
“I’ll go boil the kettle, get you some warm water for your tongue,” she offers before going back into the house.
“Give ’em hell, honey,” Dad says, winking before closing the door.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“The ride is nearly at an end, the operator is helping the people below us off and then it’s our turn, and Travis breathes a huge sigh of relief.
“It wasn’t that bad was it?” I tease him.
He looks over my face before grinning. “It could have been worse.”
“Oh really?” I ask.
The Ferris Wheel starts again, but the operator must have pressed the wrong key because our seat suddenly drops a foot down before smoothly coming to a stop in front of him.
Travis is plastered all over me: his legs stretched across the floor, his left arm across my chest, and he has the most adorable, panicked look on his face.
And I can’t help it, I throw my head back and laugh. It was a foot. He dropped a foot when he was five feet off the ground to begin with, and he now looks like a cat when you try and throw it in the bath.
And he gave me a hard time about the spiders.
“Smile!” I hear someone yell and see a bright flash.
“I was worried about you,” Travis says, fighting the grin on his face.
“My hero,” I say, putting my hand on his chest before standing up and getting off of the ride.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“It wasn’t that bad was it?” I tease him.
He looks over my face before grinning. “It could have been worse.”
“Oh really?” I ask.
The Ferris Wheel starts again, but the operator must have pressed the wrong key because our seat suddenly drops a foot down before smoothly coming to a stop in front of him.
Travis is plastered all over me: his legs stretched across the floor, his left arm across my chest, and he has the most adorable, panicked look on his face.
And I can’t help it, I throw my head back and laugh. It was a foot. He dropped a foot when he was five feet off the ground to begin with, and he now looks like a cat when you try and throw it in the bath.
And he gave me a hard time about the spiders.
“Smile!” I hear someone yell and see a bright flash.
“I was worried about you,” Travis says, fighting the grin on his face.
“My hero,” I say, putting my hand on his chest before standing up and getting off of the ride.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“We walk past a clown who is painting kids’ faces, and I suddenly stop, something catching my eye.
“I like that unicorn,” I say, pointing to the bright pink stuffed animal hanging from the ceiling of a game booth.
Travis looks from the unicorn to me. “Is that a hint?”
“I didn’t think I was being subtle,” I say, batting my eyelashes at him.
“How much is it?” Travis asks the man in charge of the game, reaching for his wallet.
“One dart for three dollars, four for ten. You just pop a balloon with the dart and you get a prize,” he says, perking up at the prospect of a new customer.
“Oh, that sounds easy!” I say, clapping my hands together.
“How many times do you have to pop a balloon to get the unicorn?” Travis asks.
“Five,” the man answers brightly.
“I could buy you a unicorn for cheaper than that!” Travis says, turning to me.
My face falls. “But that’s not the point,” I argue.
Travis looks at my pout before he lifts his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head. “Okay, I will take five darts.”
I immediately perk up again, and reach out for his arm. “You’ll do great!” I say.
Travis takes the first dart from the man and throws it at the wall. It doesn’t even make it all the way and falls pitifully to the floor.
“Must have been a bad dart,” I argue.
He frowns, picks up the second dart and this time takes a little more aim before throwing it. This time it makes it to the wall but doesn’t manage to stick.
“That’s okay, it−” Before I can finish my thought, Travis is handing me his jacket to hold so he has both hands free. He picks up the next dart, his face all business, and plants his feet, ready for action.
None of the five darts pop any balloons, and before I can offer him any words of consolation he has slapped down a twenty on the ledge and rolled up his sleeves.
“Travis, you don’t have to−” but I can tell he isn’t listening to a word I’m saying.
He throws another dart and it actually connects to the side of a balloon, but it only serves to pin the balloon to the wall more. Is that even possible? These are like miracle balloons.
“This is obviously rigged!” I argue, picking up one of the darts. I throw it at the wall, my back leg kicking up from the effort and it connects with a bright yellow balloon, popping it instantly.
“We have a winner!” The operator yells.
I look up at Travis who is just staring at the popped balloon.
“That was just beginner’s luck,” I assure Travis, picking up another dart and trying to throw it at the wall a little higher than before, aiming for above the balloons.
It quickly curves down in the air and pops a blue balloon.
Honestly, I tried out for my high school’s baseball team and got laughed off the diamond. If it wasn’t so inappropriate I would have Travis take a video so I could post it on my Facebook page. That would show Shannon Winters and all her baseball friends.
“Another winner!” the operator yells. “Three more, pretty lady, and you’ve got your unicorn.”
I shoot my eyes to Travis, but he’s still staring at the wall in disbelief.
I have no problem popping the other three balloons and I stand gleefully with my arms outstretched, waiting for my unicorn.
“You have three more darts,” the operator points out. “Did you want to try and win your boyfriend something?”
I clamp my lips together while Travis stands beside me, completely silent.
“We’re going to try something else,” I say, holding my unicorn in one hand and grabbing Travis’s hand with the other.
Travis walks away shaking his head. “I played football in university. I was on the provincial lacrosse team.”
“I know,” I say, wrapping my arm around his middle as we walk away. “You were so close.”
I try and hide the smile from my face. There is hardly anything I’m able to beat Travis at and now I know whenever I challenge him it should definitely include darts”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“I like that unicorn,” I say, pointing to the bright pink stuffed animal hanging from the ceiling of a game booth.
Travis looks from the unicorn to me. “Is that a hint?”
“I didn’t think I was being subtle,” I say, batting my eyelashes at him.
“How much is it?” Travis asks the man in charge of the game, reaching for his wallet.
“One dart for three dollars, four for ten. You just pop a balloon with the dart and you get a prize,” he says, perking up at the prospect of a new customer.
“Oh, that sounds easy!” I say, clapping my hands together.
“How many times do you have to pop a balloon to get the unicorn?” Travis asks.
“Five,” the man answers brightly.
“I could buy you a unicorn for cheaper than that!” Travis says, turning to me.
My face falls. “But that’s not the point,” I argue.
Travis looks at my pout before he lifts his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head. “Okay, I will take five darts.”
I immediately perk up again, and reach out for his arm. “You’ll do great!” I say.
Travis takes the first dart from the man and throws it at the wall. It doesn’t even make it all the way and falls pitifully to the floor.
“Must have been a bad dart,” I argue.
He frowns, picks up the second dart and this time takes a little more aim before throwing it. This time it makes it to the wall but doesn’t manage to stick.
“That’s okay, it−” Before I can finish my thought, Travis is handing me his jacket to hold so he has both hands free. He picks up the next dart, his face all business, and plants his feet, ready for action.
None of the five darts pop any balloons, and before I can offer him any words of consolation he has slapped down a twenty on the ledge and rolled up his sleeves.
“Travis, you don’t have to−” but I can tell he isn’t listening to a word I’m saying.
He throws another dart and it actually connects to the side of a balloon, but it only serves to pin the balloon to the wall more. Is that even possible? These are like miracle balloons.
“This is obviously rigged!” I argue, picking up one of the darts. I throw it at the wall, my back leg kicking up from the effort and it connects with a bright yellow balloon, popping it instantly.
“We have a winner!” The operator yells.
I look up at Travis who is just staring at the popped balloon.
“That was just beginner’s luck,” I assure Travis, picking up another dart and trying to throw it at the wall a little higher than before, aiming for above the balloons.
It quickly curves down in the air and pops a blue balloon.
Honestly, I tried out for my high school’s baseball team and got laughed off the diamond. If it wasn’t so inappropriate I would have Travis take a video so I could post it on my Facebook page. That would show Shannon Winters and all her baseball friends.
“Another winner!” the operator yells. “Three more, pretty lady, and you’ve got your unicorn.”
I shoot my eyes to Travis, but he’s still staring at the wall in disbelief.
I have no problem popping the other three balloons and I stand gleefully with my arms outstretched, waiting for my unicorn.
“You have three more darts,” the operator points out. “Did you want to try and win your boyfriend something?”
I clamp my lips together while Travis stands beside me, completely silent.
“We’re going to try something else,” I say, holding my unicorn in one hand and grabbing Travis’s hand with the other.
Travis walks away shaking his head. “I played football in university. I was on the provincial lacrosse team.”
“I know,” I say, wrapping my arm around his middle as we walk away. “You were so close.”
I try and hide the smile from my face. There is hardly anything I’m able to beat Travis at and now I know whenever I challenge him it should definitely include darts”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Can I ask you a question?” he asks as we complete our first loop on the train.
“Okay,” I say, warily, not sure what to expect from him at this point. I mean, he arranged a date that I had no idea about. The possibilities here are endless.
“You’re writing this big love story,” he says, his arm casually slung over my shoulder. “What do you think love is?”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes.
“What?” he asks.
“That’s not a question, that’s thequestion,” I say, shaking my head at him.
“Okay,” he starts again. “Can I ask you the question?”
I look at him for a minute, trying to think if I’m ready to answer this question considering all the things that are happening right now.
“Do you know who my favourite fictional character is?” I ask him instead.
He shakes his head.
“Mr. Darcy,” I answer.
“He’s every girl’s favourite character,” Travis says.
“And there is a reason why,” I say. “Mr. Darcy was a self-important man. He met Elizabeth Bennet and immediately dismissed her because she didn’t fit into the life that he was comfortable with. Once he got to know her, he discovered that what he should have wanted and what he actually wanted were two completely different things.”
“That’s every chick flick I’ve ever watched,” Travis says as he we pass the bumper cars again.
“Yes, but here’s the kicker. Hechanges. Not because Elizabeth wants him to, or tells him to. He changes because he wants to be a different person, a better person. Someone who is worthy of her. And in order to do that he has to act in a selfless way with absolutely no hope of reward,” I say, and I know my voice has taken on a slightly dreamy tone. “That’s what I think love is. Loving someone who makes you want to be a better person.”
As we make the final turn and the train comes to a stop, Travis still hasn’t said anything.
I lightly laugh. “At least I hope that’s what love is.
I dart my eyes in Travis’s direction, expecting him to be a little uncomfortable with my declaration, but his face is soft and he seems pleased with my answer.
As we stand in line waiting to get on the Merry-Go-Round I turn to him.
“So, who is your favourite fictional couple?” I ask.
Travis seems to think about it, scrunching up his mouth with the effort.
“Mickey and Minnie,” he nods decisively.
“As in Mouse?” I laugh.
“They like each other, they’re nice to each other, and they always look like they’re having a fun time,” he says, shrugging at his explanation.
And the more I think about it, it’s actually a pretty good choice. I mean, obviously it isn’t Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, but it has some worth.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Okay,” I say, warily, not sure what to expect from him at this point. I mean, he arranged a date that I had no idea about. The possibilities here are endless.
“You’re writing this big love story,” he says, his arm casually slung over my shoulder. “What do you think love is?”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes.
“What?” he asks.
“That’s not a question, that’s thequestion,” I say, shaking my head at him.
“Okay,” he starts again. “Can I ask you the question?”
I look at him for a minute, trying to think if I’m ready to answer this question considering all the things that are happening right now.
“Do you know who my favourite fictional character is?” I ask him instead.
He shakes his head.
“Mr. Darcy,” I answer.
“He’s every girl’s favourite character,” Travis says.
“And there is a reason why,” I say. “Mr. Darcy was a self-important man. He met Elizabeth Bennet and immediately dismissed her because she didn’t fit into the life that he was comfortable with. Once he got to know her, he discovered that what he should have wanted and what he actually wanted were two completely different things.”
“That’s every chick flick I’ve ever watched,” Travis says as he we pass the bumper cars again.
“Yes, but here’s the kicker. Hechanges. Not because Elizabeth wants him to, or tells him to. He changes because he wants to be a different person, a better person. Someone who is worthy of her. And in order to do that he has to act in a selfless way with absolutely no hope of reward,” I say, and I know my voice has taken on a slightly dreamy tone. “That’s what I think love is. Loving someone who makes you want to be a better person.”
As we make the final turn and the train comes to a stop, Travis still hasn’t said anything.
I lightly laugh. “At least I hope that’s what love is.
I dart my eyes in Travis’s direction, expecting him to be a little uncomfortable with my declaration, but his face is soft and he seems pleased with my answer.
As we stand in line waiting to get on the Merry-Go-Round I turn to him.
“So, who is your favourite fictional couple?” I ask.
Travis seems to think about it, scrunching up his mouth with the effort.
“Mickey and Minnie,” he nods decisively.
“As in Mouse?” I laugh.
“They like each other, they’re nice to each other, and they always look like they’re having a fun time,” he says, shrugging at his explanation.
And the more I think about it, it’s actually a pretty good choice. I mean, obviously it isn’t Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, but it has some worth.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“So… You realise you just said you love me, right?” he says, and I can see he is trying to act calm about the joy that those few words give him.
“I know,” I shrug, trying to stay as casual as possible.
He soaks in the words, and I stand waiting.
“Well?” I prompt.
“Well, what?”
“Don’t you have something to say to me?” I ask, widening my eyes.
Travis thinks about it for a minute. “You hair has come out of its clip at the back.”
I smack him on the arm. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”
“I know,” he smiles and it softens all the features of his face. I love when he smiles at me like that. “But if I said it now, you would just go home and overthink whether I just said it because you said it to me first.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then close it. Damn it, he’s right.
“And, I’m not going to just say it so you have a good scene for your book,” he says, eyeing me as though he knows exactly what is going through my head.
What is he, psychic?
“Can we at least have a great kiss?” I argue in exasperation.
“Well, it’s not raining,” he says, looking up at the clear sky. “And your hair is kind of all over the place.”
I put my hand up to my hair and know that he’s right. Those sixteen blocks didn’t do my bun any favours.
“Should we maybe back up a little and slowly walk towards each other so I can twirl you at the end?” he asks, the smile tugging at his lips.
Actually, that’s exactly what I want to do, but I obviously can’t suggest it now.
“Or maybe I could push my way through this large crowd, trying to get−”
“Oh, just shut up and kiss me,” I say, grabbing his face and pulling it to mine.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“I know,” I shrug, trying to stay as casual as possible.
He soaks in the words, and I stand waiting.
“Well?” I prompt.
“Well, what?”
“Don’t you have something to say to me?” I ask, widening my eyes.
Travis thinks about it for a minute. “You hair has come out of its clip at the back.”
I smack him on the arm. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”
“I know,” he smiles and it softens all the features of his face. I love when he smiles at me like that. “But if I said it now, you would just go home and overthink whether I just said it because you said it to me first.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then close it. Damn it, he’s right.
“And, I’m not going to just say it so you have a good scene for your book,” he says, eyeing me as though he knows exactly what is going through my head.
What is he, psychic?
“Can we at least have a great kiss?” I argue in exasperation.
“Well, it’s not raining,” he says, looking up at the clear sky. “And your hair is kind of all over the place.”
I put my hand up to my hair and know that he’s right. Those sixteen blocks didn’t do my bun any favours.
“Should we maybe back up a little and slowly walk towards each other so I can twirl you at the end?” he asks, the smile tugging at his lips.
Actually, that’s exactly what I want to do, but I obviously can’t suggest it now.
“Or maybe I could push my way through this large crowd, trying to get−”
“Oh, just shut up and kiss me,” I say, grabbing his face and pulling it to mine.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“used to wonder why people didn’t do more to get the attention they deserve– beautiful people from the inside out that get overlooked everyday because they aren’t cut throat or overtly obvious. But recently I’ve been thinking– maybe it’s the people looking that are in the wrong.”
― White Lies
― White Lies
“Because love isn’t about saying all the right things, or giving the perfect gifts. Love is about sharing something special with someone else that no one else will ever understand or can be a part of. Love is about sticking with someone when in that moment everything inside of you wants to bolt, and knowing that even though the other person could feel the same way, they aren’t going anywhere either. Because you made a commitment to each other and that promise means something, even when you want to pretend it doesn’t.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“It’s just so typical. I’ve had writer’s block for days now− I literally couldn’t write a coherent sentence− then about a minute before Travis walks through the door it’s like the sea parted and Moses was on the other side looking relieved and waving at me.
It’s pretty depressing when your mental metaphors are better than the crap you managed to put on paper that week.
They say when you have writer’s block you should clear your mind and the ‘inspiration’ will just come. But my mind doesn’t go blank, and I’ve spent the last three hours staring at the wall and wondering if you want French toast in France, do you ask for French toast, or just toast?
And now, because I’ve thought about it so much, I actually care what the answer is. Obviously not one of my better days.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
It’s pretty depressing when your mental metaphors are better than the crap you managed to put on paper that week.
They say when you have writer’s block you should clear your mind and the ‘inspiration’ will just come. But my mind doesn’t go blank, and I’ve spent the last three hours staring at the wall and wondering if you want French toast in France, do you ask for French toast, or just toast?
And now, because I’ve thought about it so much, I actually care what the answer is. Obviously not one of my better days.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“No one says anything, and the silence gets uncomfortably awkward very quickly. I feel like I am the third wheel, which is kind of ironic considering I am mad at them for not making me their third wheel.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“They may not turn everyone’s head, they’re only for the worthy to notice.”
― White Lies
― White Lies
“Did you fall off a tree when you were a kid?” I ask. “Get pushed off a bridge?”
“What?” he asks, momentarily distracted. “No, why?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I just thought that might be why you’re afraid of heights.”
“Always the writer,” he softly laughs. “Nothing as dramatic as that. I just don’t like them, never have.”
“But there has to be a reason,” I say. “I mean, no one is really comfortable with heights, but to beafraid of them− something had to have happened.”
“Did you ever get attacked by a herd of spiders when you were a kid?” he asks, raising one of his eyebrows in my direction. “Because I seem to remember finding you on a chair not too long ago, calling me and screaming that I have to come over because a daddy long legs was ‘eyeing you for lunch’.”
“That’s different,” I say, sitting up a little straighter.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“What?” he asks, momentarily distracted. “No, why?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I just thought that might be why you’re afraid of heights.”
“Always the writer,” he softly laughs. “Nothing as dramatic as that. I just don’t like them, never have.”
“But there has to be a reason,” I say. “I mean, no one is really comfortable with heights, but to beafraid of them− something had to have happened.”
“Did you ever get attacked by a herd of spiders when you were a kid?” he asks, raising one of his eyebrows in my direction. “Because I seem to remember finding you on a chair not too long ago, calling me and screaming that I have to come over because a daddy long legs was ‘eyeing you for lunch’.”
“That’s different,” I say, sitting up a little straighter.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“What are you doing?” I ask, holding onto the door handle.
“I’ve got to move your car up the road a little so I can shovel the end of the driveway,” he says.
“No, I mean why did you not want that guy to clean the driveway?”
“If I waited for that guy the snow would melt before your parents’ driveway is cleaned. Scott says he’s been out here for five hours and he has one strip of his driveway done, which is now all over me and thisdriveway.”
“Scott’s here?” I ask, looking towards the closed front door.
“Yeah, he just went in to get better gloves from your dad. Now that you’re here we can get the driveway cleared in under an hour.”
I look back at the neighbour and realise that Travis might have a point about the snow blower.
“An hour?” I scoff. “Thirty minutes tops.”
His hand stops inches from the ignition and he looks up at me. “Is that a challenge?”
“Last one to clear their section has to put their tongue on the lamppost,” I say.
The smile spreads over Travis’ face.
“You’re on.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“I’ve got to move your car up the road a little so I can shovel the end of the driveway,” he says.
“No, I mean why did you not want that guy to clean the driveway?”
“If I waited for that guy the snow would melt before your parents’ driveway is cleaned. Scott says he’s been out here for five hours and he has one strip of his driveway done, which is now all over me and thisdriveway.”
“Scott’s here?” I ask, looking towards the closed front door.
“Yeah, he just went in to get better gloves from your dad. Now that you’re here we can get the driveway cleared in under an hour.”
I look back at the neighbour and realise that Travis might have a point about the snow blower.
“An hour?” I scoff. “Thirty minutes tops.”
His hand stops inches from the ignition and he looks up at me. “Is that a challenge?”
“Last one to clear their section has to put their tongue on the lamppost,” I say.
The smile spreads over Travis’ face.
“You’re on.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Uh oh,” my dad comes in the room but dramatically stops short. “Are we talking about boys?”
I roll my eyes. “No, we’re talking about stubborn men.”
“So we are talking about boys,” he says and comes over to stand beside me, helping himself to some of the veggies off the platter.
“Who did what this time?” he asks Jill.
She raises her hands in defense. “This time it isn’t my problem.”
“Travis is not exactly being the ideal muse,” I say while I dip one of the carrots into the ranch dressing.
“And you really expect him to be?” he asks, trying to hide his smile.
“Well, I expected him to try a little harder,” I say defensively.
“I never understand how you manage to talk him into these things,” my dad says, leaning across the counter for a piece of bruschetta. “Even Scott gave up most times. But you were always able to convince Travis to stick it out with you.”
“Well, we aren’t ten anymore,” I argue. “And apparently he’s taken a card from Scott’s book.”
“I don’t know,” my dad says, wiping his mouth. “He’s always been team Etty. You can’t just switch.”
“Have you and Mom been watching the Twilight series again?” I accuse.
My dad just raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.
My dad is team Jacob; Mom is team Edward; I’m team I don’t care.
Not that I have anything against Twilight, it’s just when you come into the house and your parents are in the middle of a legitimate argument over what creature they would like their daughter to date… things just got weird for me. I toldScott not to drop those movies off at their house; now whenever they have to decide on something they say they are “team so-and-so”.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
I roll my eyes. “No, we’re talking about stubborn men.”
“So we are talking about boys,” he says and comes over to stand beside me, helping himself to some of the veggies off the platter.
“Who did what this time?” he asks Jill.
She raises her hands in defense. “This time it isn’t my problem.”
“Travis is not exactly being the ideal muse,” I say while I dip one of the carrots into the ranch dressing.
“And you really expect him to be?” he asks, trying to hide his smile.
“Well, I expected him to try a little harder,” I say defensively.
“I never understand how you manage to talk him into these things,” my dad says, leaning across the counter for a piece of bruschetta. “Even Scott gave up most times. But you were always able to convince Travis to stick it out with you.”
“Well, we aren’t ten anymore,” I argue. “And apparently he’s taken a card from Scott’s book.”
“I don’t know,” my dad says, wiping his mouth. “He’s always been team Etty. You can’t just switch.”
“Have you and Mom been watching the Twilight series again?” I accuse.
My dad just raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.
My dad is team Jacob; Mom is team Edward; I’m team I don’t care.
Not that I have anything against Twilight, it’s just when you come into the house and your parents are in the middle of a legitimate argument over what creature they would like their daughter to date… things just got weird for me. I toldScott not to drop those movies off at their house; now whenever they have to decide on something they say they are “team so-and-so”.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Look at this. Do you know what this says?”
“Travis and Etty, surrounded by little glittery hearts?” he answers.
“No, it says we are safe. We need to do something that is unsafe.”
The frown on Travis’s face makes me think he isn’t getting it.
“The best love stories have action… adventure!” I argue.
Also, action usually raises tension. And tension usually equals a good argument.
So, that’s it. That’s my answer. We go to the Congo; we stumble upon some drug lords and bam− if that’s not conflict I don’t know what is.
Except, I can’t go the Congo because I have to work tomorrow.
But the theory is still valid.
“I would suggest skydiving, but I know because of the height issue that’s out,” I put my finger to my mouth in concentration.
“Because that’s the only reason why that wouldn’t be a good idea,” Travis says.
“Should we go to the casino and bet it all on red?” I ask.
“Have you forgotten you’re still taking overtime shifts to pay off the inflatable day of fun?” Travis argues.
“I’ve got it!” I exclaim, shooting my arms up in victory. “Let’s go drive down to the docks and see if we can witness a crime.”
“Where are ‘the docks’?” Travis says, smiling indulgently at my new idea.
“I’ve heard people say that in movies,” I say, shrugging. “I was hoping you would know where it is.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
“Travis and Etty, surrounded by little glittery hearts?” he answers.
“No, it says we are safe. We need to do something that is unsafe.”
The frown on Travis’s face makes me think he isn’t getting it.
“The best love stories have action… adventure!” I argue.
Also, action usually raises tension. And tension usually equals a good argument.
So, that’s it. That’s my answer. We go to the Congo; we stumble upon some drug lords and bam− if that’s not conflict I don’t know what is.
Except, I can’t go the Congo because I have to work tomorrow.
But the theory is still valid.
“I would suggest skydiving, but I know because of the height issue that’s out,” I put my finger to my mouth in concentration.
“Because that’s the only reason why that wouldn’t be a good idea,” Travis says.
“Should we go to the casino and bet it all on red?” I ask.
“Have you forgotten you’re still taking overtime shifts to pay off the inflatable day of fun?” Travis argues.
“I’ve got it!” I exclaim, shooting my arms up in victory. “Let’s go drive down to the docks and see if we can witness a crime.”
“Where are ‘the docks’?” Travis says, smiling indulgently at my new idea.
“I’ve heard people say that in movies,” I say, shrugging. “I was hoping you would know where it is.”
― My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero
