Page 7 of A Convenient Secret

I’m sure the baby will come soon.

Saar

Always looking at the bright side, @Lily.

Celeste

Fuck wishful thinking. I want guarantees. NOW! (crying emoji)

Cora

Can you still waddle to come fora coffee?

Celeste

I’m not moving until this baby is out.

Isit up suddenly, my breath shallow and fast like I’ve been running for miles. The darkness presses in around me, heavy and suffocating. I clutch at the sheets and scan the room, searching for… what?

With a lavender sachet under my pillow, the distant hum of cars passing on the street outside, the warm yellow night-light plugged near the door, my brain slowly anchors me in my tiny spare room.

Shit. Another nightmare. As hard as I try to forget, to move on, to clear those memories, they persistently infiltrate my mind.

Days are good. I’ve always been a cheerful person. A bit too bubbly according to my parents. During the day, I stay grounded in the present.

Some pay hundreds or thousands to learn mindfulness. To stay present in the moment. I had to embrace thehere and now,because I’ve had no alternative.

I don’t want to remember my past, think about it, or revisit it—even when some memories try to bring me to my knees.

And my future is uncertain, so really, the present moment is what keeps me going.

While my life over the past year has been nothing like the life I used to know, I’ve made it work.

Because, however unfortunate my life may look, it’s mine. It’s not decided for me. It’s chosen by me. And that is priceless.

Yes, there is the unfortunate housing situation. But right now, I can’t afford more than this room in Mrs. Whitaker’s condo. Not ideal.

The cost of living in New York wasn’t something I was prepared for. God, I used to be a naïve girl. My life till that moment forced me to mature in certain ways, but completely sheltered me from reality.

New York is where I want to be. It’s vibrant and pulsing with life.

New York is where I need to be. It’s large, anonymous, and far enough from home.

New York is where I belong now. Even in my isolation, missing my family. Some of them, anyway.

During the day, I learned to enjoy my life.

At night, the past persists in my dreams.

I sit up and press my palms against my thighs, grounding myself. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” I whisper into the stillness, as if saying it out loud will make it true. My voice is hoarse, barely above a breath.

I switch the lamp on and pull out my journal from the nightstand. Scooting up, with my back against theheadboard, I review the last few pages. All the things I’m grateful for.

My friends: Celeste, Saar, and Cora.

That I have work and a roof above my head.

That I joined a local gym.