Page 1 of Choosing Her

saylor

The day my sister broke up with the love of my life, it was sunny and warm. They were out swimming in our backyard pool, while I was hiding inside, so that I wouldn’t have to be anywhere near him. If I’d known she was planning to break his heart that day, I might have come out to watch.

See, this whole “love of my life” thing was complicated.

Because there was one half of my heart that loved him, would always love him, and wanted to be with him forever.

That part of my heart was the one responsible for me carrying around a polaroid in my back pocket all summer, like I thought one day I might whip it out and remind him that there had been a time—one, magical night—where he looked at me the way he now looked at her.

The other half of my heart was the realist, the one that had ruled me for most of my life.

That part was the one responsible for me never telling Naomi what happened between Crossy and me.

It was the part of me that knew soulmates did not exist and one night wasn’t enough to fall in love.

The two halves together were what made me want to hate him.

“Maybe I should have been nicer,” Naomi said after Crossy left.

He hadn’t been crying or looking even close to it, but she was convinced he was only putting on a brave face until he went home.

I thought that he just didn’t know how to cry.

And the piece of me that hated him—really, truly hated him for falling in love with my sister instead of me—thought that maybe, he just wasn’t capable of any complex emotions.

“No,” I said. “I think you were just harsh enough.”

Even though I hadn’t actually seen the break-up happen, that sentiment seemed to make her feel better, and she took me out to get a slushy and enjoy the hot summer day.

A week later, she was over him.

Three months later, I was even more in love.