Being Honest

Sarah and I stood overlooking the Valley for a long time after that.

Neither of us seemed in a hurry to leave.

The afternoon sun had started its slow descent, casting long shadows across the trails below.

Everything looked peaceful.

Calm.

The complete opposite of how I had felt for most of the day.

Eventually, Sarah nudged my shoulder.

"You know what's funny?"

"What?"

"I haven't seen you this honest in years."

I laughed softly.

"That's probably because I wasn't being honest."

She nodded.

"Not with me."

I looked over.

"Not with yourself."

That one landed.

Hard.

Because she was right.

For years, whenever someone asked how things were going, I automatically gave the same answer.

Fine.

Everything's fine.

We're good.

Just busy.

The responses became automatic.

So automatic that eventually I started believing them myself.

Or at least trying to.

We started walking again.

The trail curved around a small overlook that had always been one of my favorite spots.

When we were younger, Sarah and I used to come here and talk for hours.

About boys.

College.

Careers.

Dreams.

Everything.

Back then, our biggest problems felt enormous.

Now they seemed laughable.

Sarah laughed suddenly.

"What?"

She shook her head.

"I was just thinking about when we were twenty-two."

I immediately groaned.

"Oh God."

"Remember when you were convinced your life was over because that guy canceled a date?"

I burst out laughing.

"I was dramatic."

"You were ridiculous."

"I was twenty-two."

Sarah smiled.

"We thought we had everything figured out."

"Didn't we?"

"Yep."

We both laughed.

The truth was, life rarely turns out the way you imagine when you're twenty-two.

You think you know exactly where you're headed.

Exactly who you'll become.

Exactly who you'll spend your life with.

Then life happens.

And suddenly everything changes.

Sarah became serious again.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I never liked who you became around him."

The words caught me off guard.

Not because they were cruel.

Because they were honest.

I looked down at the trail.

Sarah continued.

"Not because of him."

I looked up.

"What?"

"Because of what happened to you."

The wind moved gently through the trees.

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

Then she continued.

"You stopped doing things you loved."

I swallowed.

"You stopped traveling."

True.

"You stopped seeing friends."

Also true.

"You stopped laughing."

That one hurt.

Because it was the most true of all.

Sarah looked at me.

"The old Lela would disappear for a weekend because she wanted to go horseback riding."

I laughed.

"That's accurate."

"The old Lela would decide on Wednesday she wanted to take a road trip on Friday."

I smiled.

"Probably."

"The old Lela had a spark."

The tears threatened again.

Because somewhere along the way, I had lost that spark.

Not all at once.

Little by little.

Until one day I barely recognized myself.

Sarah smiled.

"But she's coming back."

For the first time all afternoon, I believed it.

Maybe not completely.

Maybe not overnight.

But I could feel it.

The woman I used to be wasn't gone.

She had simply been buried beneath years of disappointment.

Eventually, we made our way back toward the parking area.

The conversation shifted to lighter topics.

Work.

Family.

Funny memories.

Stories about people we grew up with.

The kind of conversations that remind you life continues moving forward.

As we approached our cars, Sarah stopped.

Then she crossed her arms.

"Oh."

I immediately recognized the look.

"What?"

She smiled.

"Oh no."

"What?"

She laughed.

"We haven't talked about Jack."

I covered my face.

"Sarah."

"What?"

"Not now."

"Especially now."

I started laughing.

Of course she wasn't going to let it go.

Not a chance.

She leaned against her car.

"So."

I rolled my eyes.

"No."

"So."

"Stop."

"Absolutely not."

I couldn't stop laughing.

Because despite everything that had happened that day, somehow Sarah had managed to drag me back toward normal life.

Toward hope.

Toward possibility.

Finally, I sighed.

"He's nice."

Sarah stared.

Then burst out laughing.

"Nice?"

"What?"

"That's your description?"

I shrugged.

"He is."

Sarah shook her head.

"No."

"What?"

"Try again."

I laughed.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

I looked away.

Because the truth was complicated.

Jack wasn't just nice.

He was thoughtful.

Patient.

Funny.

Respectful.

Easy to talk to.

The kind of person who made me feel comfortable simply being myself.

And after years of feeling like I was walking on eggshells, that mattered.

A lot.

Sarah smiled.

"There it is."

"What?"

"That smile."

I rolled my eyes.

"You're impossible."

"I know."

Then her expression softened.

"Just be careful."

I looked at her.

"Why?"

"Because you're vulnerable right now."

I nodded.

She wasn't wrong.

Everything in my life felt uncertain.

Raw.

Unfinished.

Sarah continued.

"That doesn't mean don't enjoy it."

I smiled.

"Okay."

"It just means take your time."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she added,

"Besides, if he's smart, he'll wait."

The comment made me smile.

Because somehow I already knew she was right.

Jack wasn't pushing.

Wasn't rushing.

Wasn't demanding anything.

He was simply there.

Patiently waiting.

Meeting me where I was.

And maybe that was exactly what I needed.

As Sarah climbed into her car, she rolled down the window.

"Call me later."

"I will."

"You better."

I laughed.

"Yes, Mom."

She pointed at me.

"Don't start."

Then she drove away.

I stood there for a moment watching her leave.

The Valley was quiet again.

But it felt different now.

Less lonely.

Less overwhelming.

I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone.

Two unread messages.

Both from Jack.

The first:

"Everything okay?"

The second:

"No rush. Just wanted to make sure you're alright."

I stared at the screen.

Then smiled.

A small smile.

The kind that appears before you even realize it's happening.

For the first time all day, I felt ready.

Not for a relationship.

Not for the future.

Not for all the answers.

Just ready to take the next step.

Whatever that happened to be.

I opened the message screen.

And for several moments, I simply stared at it.

Trying to decide what to say.

Because after one of the hardest days of my life, I suddenly realized something.

Maybe tomorrow didn't have to be scary.

Maybe tomorrow could simply be tomorrow.

And for now, that was enough.