Page 48 of Unhitched

Chapter thirty

Mya

“Stupid, stupid glass,” I mutter as I throw the glass shaped like a beer can into the trash under the kitchen sink.

It shatters into the garbage bag. My next craft is something I’ve never done.

I’m etching designs into the side of the beer can glasses I’ve got lined up on the counter.

I’ve never used etching cream before. It didn’t look hard when I watched the video, but my first try was a complete failure.

I made a stencil with my vinyl cutter, but I don’t think I pressed it to the glass well enough, and all the lines blurred.

Weeding a new stencil from the black vinyl, I take my time picking out each little letter and piece of my design with my pick.

Once I’m finished, I carefully peel the backing off and press the sticker sheet on the cup.

Rubbing my fingers over the vinyl, I ensure every part of the stencil is firmly in place on the glass.

I take a deep, calming breath. I’ve been needing a lot of breaths since last night. I’m more upset by how Kace rejected me than I was over any real breakup. My brain begs me to take the out he’s given and leave before I run into the same problem I always do–but my gut tells me to stay.

In the past, my gut has always told me to run, but my brain has always rationalized. His quirks aren’t that big of a deal. Maybe he’ll grow out of them. It’s not settling–no one is perfect. Don’t let a good one slip away.

This time, my brain tells me to run to avoid getting more hurt than I already am.

But my gut… it’s telling me Kace could be the one .

The conflict has me reeling. Distracted.

Messing up basic crafts I should have perfected on the first try.

I’m tempted to move back to Eugene, but I don’t want to be away from Kace.

I don’t want to feel the way I do about him while simultaneously begging the universe to change his mind.

I feel out of alignment. Like when you try to straighten the lines on your phone camera but they never match up.

Reaching for the paintbrush, I dip it into the etching cream a second time.

Holding my breath because this stuff smells more toxic than Ross and Rachel’s relationship, I dab the white cream over the cutouts in the stencil.

I take my time, confident I can do this.

When the cream is in place, I set the glass aside to let it do its thing and move on to the next one.

I have three designs I’m making. One has cute trees of different heights in an oval frame.

In the middle, it says, “Less people. More trees.” The second one says, “Live like the mountain is out,” inside an outline of a snow-capped mountain.

The last one is a chair lift, and it says, “Adjust your altitude.” I got the idea when Kace and I were at the mountain two days ago.

I sigh, pressing my palms down on the edge of the counter.

What a roller coaster it’s been. I thought maybe we would have a shot, but no.

Right after I thought he was giving me a chance, he ripped it away.

It’s not that I don’t understand. I get it.

I just… I hate it. I hate it so much. I clench my fist, my teeth grinding as I glare toward the front door Kace disappeared through a couple of hours ago.

He let me know he was leaving but didn’t say more than that.

Abandoning my project temporarily, I walk to the living room and aggressively unfold the flaps of one of my craft boxes next to the couch.

Tearing out a sheet of light pink paper and a pen, I slap it down on the coffee table.

I already did my Insanity workout this morning.

I had a thirty-minute shower concert with Hilary.

I ate three bowls of cereal. None of it helped ease my frustration.

My feelings are trapped inside me, and I feel so stabby right now that I need to get them out before I lose my freaking mind.

I pick up my pen, angry that it’s a pink gel one because that doesn’t fit the vibe. But I can never find a black pen when I need it, so I don’t even bother. The words feel jumbled in my head, but as soon as the pen touches the paper, they flow out like they’ve been waiting to see the light of day.

Kace, For my fifth birthday, my parents gave me a Cabbage Patch doll.

At my party, I got a lot of other toys, but I can’t tell you what they were because I don’t remember.

My interests have always been ever-changing.

In elementary school, I played a different sport every year to try them all and not get bored.

In middle school, I ate lunch with someone different every day because I was worried I’d miss out on knowing someone cool.

At my first high school dance, I convinced my mom to get me two outfits so I could change halfway through.

I didn’t go to college because every month, I wanted a different job that would require a different major.

But it’s not me hating decisions or sucking at making them–it’s me wanting to experience all life has to offer.

The world has always allowed me to explore everything that interests me.

While I exploited that freedom, I never let it translate to my dating life because I’m not a shitty person who cycles through men like toys of the week.

Maybe I haven’t had a long relationship like you have, but maybe that’s because I hadn’t found my Cabbage Patch yet.

Growing up, I might have played with a different toy each day, but when I crawled under the covers at night, that doll was always with me.

What I’m trying to say is that despite my lack of direction, I always have a home base.

I want a home base. I want it to be you.

Wanted. It turns out that when you finally find the right person, there’s no guarantee that you’re theirs.

And that sucks because with every piece of your puzzle that clicks into place, the more my heart tells me that we could be so good together.

Do you remember that scene in Dennis the Menace where Mr. Wilson grows a flower that only blooms after forty years?

Some might say he missed that moment because a robber was in his house.

But you know what I think the reason was?

It was him focusing on all the negatives in his life.

It was him being annoyed by inconveniences that could have been joys.

That's you. You’re the guy who is so busy looking behind you that you’re missing what’s right in front of you.

You being afraid I’m going to leave is manifesting it. I hope it’s worth it. Mya

I set my pen down, rereading what I wrote.

It took a turn in the end, but I feel better getting it out.

I had to write the words he doesn’t want to hear because I’ll never get to say them.

He doesn’t want to be with me, and I have to respect that.

I get why he has trust issues–to be honest, I would too.

I can’t fault him for thinking a new relationship right now would feel like a Band-Aid over a gaping wound.

He needs to heal more with the proper tools first. That doesn’t make it hurt any less, but now that everything is off my chest, it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.

Taking a breath, I put the letter and pen both back in the box and return to my craft. This time, when I pull the vinyl stencil from the glass, it reveals a perfectly etched mountain scene.

At least something is going right.