Page 118 of Things We Hide from the Light

I’d spent my entire adult life proving I was invincible, capable, independent. I lived alone, worked alone, took vacations alone. The only way I could get more independent wasif I entered into a monogamous relationship with my vibrator. To be told I was taking the coward’s way out didn’t sit well with me.

“Look, I appreciate the super fun game of ‘let’s analyze what’s wrong with Lina.’ But the fact is, every time I have to operate within the bounds of a relationship, whether it’s personal or professional, people get hurt.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be in a relationship. It just means you’re not good at it,” Naomi said, gesturing with her wine.

“Gee, thanks,” I said dryly.

Naomi held up a finger and drained her glass. “Nobodyis good at it at first. No one has a natural talent for being in a relationship. Everyone has to learn how to be good at it. It takes a lot of practice and forgiveness and vulnerability.”

“Shit,” Stef muttered. He stood and squared his shoulders. “If you ladies will excuse me, I need to make a phone call. Mind keeping an eye on them, Joel?”

The bartender threw him a salute.

“It’s not just that I’m bad at relationships,” I said, returning to the original point. “I don’t want to be tied down. I want to be free to do what I want. To pursue a life that suits me.”

“I don’t think those things have to be mutually exclusive.”

“Boom!” Sloane said, slapping a hand to the bar. The more she drank, the louder the librarian’s sound effects got.

“I’m not going to find a man out there who’s going to be content following me around, working remotely in shitty motels while I track down stolen goods. And if I did, I probably wouldn’t want him.”

Naomi hiccupped.

“Seriously? You too? Did you guys pregame before you came to get me?” I asked.

She shrugged and grinned. “I made a wrap for lunch and Waylon stole it off my plate when I wasn’t looking. I’m an empty stomach lightweight.”

I slid the bowl of nuts in her direction. “Soak up that alcohol.”

A tall biker with an eye patch and a bandanna sauntered up.

“No,” I said when he opened his mouth.

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say,” he complained.

“No we don’t want a date, a ride, or for you to tell us your penis’s nickname,” I said.

Sloane raised her hand. “Actually, I’d like to know the penis nickname.”

The biker puffed out his chest and hiked up his pants. “It’s Long John Silver…cause it’s pierced. Now, who wants a personal introduction?”

“Happy now?” I asked Sloane.

“I’m both happy and disgusted.”

I turned back to the biker. “Go away unless you want to become part of a therapy session.”

“Hit the road, Spider,” Joel said from behind the bar.

“Try to get a little action and everybody gets pissy,” Spider muttered as he stomped away.

“Wait, I think I was about to make a super smart point,” Naomi said. She scrunched up her nose and, deep in thought, mainlined the rest of her wine. “Aha!”

“Aha!” Sloane echoed.

Naomi wiggled on her stool and cleared her throat. “As I was saying, you’re comparing what you’re doing now to what you could be doing in the future.”

“Um, isn’t that whateveryonedoes?”