Finally (Toby)

Today was the day. Maddy had visited her counselor for the last time yesterday, and Toby had been there through everything. He remembered the struggles that they faced together:

"Maddy, listen to me. You are beautiful. You don't have to be size 2 to be perfect. You already are," Toby said hoping with all of his might that this time she would listen and look away from the stupid mirror.

She looked at her stomach and grabbed at something that must have only been in her mind.

"You don't understand. I'm so fat. No one is ever going to love me. I'm undesirable," Maddy cried and fell to her knees wrapping her arms around her stomach.

Toby looked at the woman who had stolen his heart years ago. Taking  a deep breath, he sat down next to Maddy and held her close to him.

"You're wrong. You know that?" Toby asked kissing the top of her head.

"How? How can I be wrong?" she buried her head into Toby's shoulder.

"Because I love you. I have loved you forever. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Your ex was an ass, excuse my language, but he was. Anyone who treats such an amazing woman as yourself that way is an ass. Madeline, I love you with all of my heart. I swear to you, I will never leave you. You and I will get through this."

Maddy looked up into Toby's eyes at a loss for words. He gently put his hand against Maddy's delicate cheek and looked back. She didn't move away, so he did something the two would never regret. 

Toby bent  his head down and kissed Maddy with the passion he had felt for her from day one. 

From that day, the two were inseparable. Toby dedicated himself to helping Maddy beat her bulimia. She had gone through three years of counseling, and Toby never left her side.

Today, was their anniversary and Toby had made reservations for dinner at Maddy's favorite restaurant.

At 6 p.m. Toby drove to Maddy's apartment in his recently bathed and cleaned pickup. He had even picked out his nicest blue button-up shirt and black dress pants for the occasion. Nervously, he picked up the flowers from the passenger seat. They were the best orchids that the florist shop had. Toby recalled Maddy telling him they were her favorite flowers, and he wanted tonight to be special.

Taking a deep breath Toby went to Maddy's door and knocked. Without delay she opened the door smiling.

At that moment, it seemed as if all the oxygen had left Toby's body. Maddy was beautiful. She too had chosen to wear blue. Her dress was a royal blue with lace flowers. The skirt fell just above her knees and her long brown hair flowed down her back in curls.

"Wow," was all Toby could muster.

Smiling Maddy said, "Are those orchids for me?"

"Oh, right. Yes, here," Toby said extending his arm to make them reach her.

"Are you okay? You seem on edge," Maddy said taking the flowers into the apartment to put in a vase of water.

"I've honestly never been better. Before we go, Maddy I want to talk to you."

Toby's heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest.

"Sure, what's going on?" Maddy asked.

After another deep breath, Toby got down on one knee.

"Maddy, you are the strongest woman I know. You have made it through every battle thrown at you with the utmost grace. I am so proud of everything you have done and become. I love you, with every bit of me. I want to spend every day with you growing and learning together. I want to make you happy every day. You are perfect, and I just I love you so much. Will you marry me?"

Without even looking at the ring in Toby's hand Maddy ran over to him and kissed him with as much passion as he had the very first time they kissed.

"I will marry you. I love you Toby. You are my best friend and the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with. So, yes. Every day yes."

And the rest is just icing on the cake, for finally everyone was happy.

Fear (Maddy)

Fat, ugly, not worth a second glance. That's me, I am all of those things. You want to know how I know? I have been told that I am fat. I have told I need to stop eating so much. I have been told I need to be a few sizes smaller to be attractive.

It's all true. I know it. I can see it in the mirror. I have a belly, it's a whole 24 inches around! I am a size 4, but that's now. That's after a year of bulimia. Before that, who knows how big my belly was, but I wore a size 8 and could grab my stomach pudge. But I changed, I lost that weight like I was told to, now I should be desirable. But when I look at that damn mirror, I still have a pooch at the end of my stomach. I can still grab at my skin, and there are fat rolls under my bra. Maybe if I stay bulimic just a few more months I will be what everyone else wants from me.

****

It's been two years now and people can see my bones, I can clearly see my ribs and hip bones. Is the beauty? Am I beautiful yet?

 

Ring, ring. My phone goes off and it is Clark. He asked me on a dinner date tonight!

 

"Hey Babe," Clark said. "Look, I'm not feeling too great. Can we take a rain check for another night?"

 

I glance at my black dress sadly draping over my miserable bed.

 

"Sure, that's fine."

 

"Great, I knew you'd understand," Clark said as he hung up.

 

Hot, big and clumpy tears poured out of my eyes and I threw myself on my stupid bed.

 

I'm not sure how long I cried for, but it took a loud knock on my door to get my attention. I wiped my face off knowing mascara had run down my cheeks. My lonely apartment seemed to expand as I walked towards my door.

 

"Maddy, you and I are going to the mall. Starbucks has new flavors and we need to try them. All of them!" my best friend, Toby, yelled through the door.

 

Slowly, I opened my house to him and he took one glance at me and said, "Oh, Mads. What is it?'

 

I grasped at him and hugged him as tight as possible, but he didn't complain. Eventually, I told him what happened and he looked down at me with understanding in his gaze.

 

"See? This is why we need coffee. Go put on your dress, and I'll treat you to dinner and coffee."

 

"Toby, can't you see? I am a mess. No one wants to be around me like this."

 

"Wrong and wrong. I want to be around you all the time. Now, go change."

 

Nodding, I went to my bedroom and put the dress on. Unfortunately, I looked in the mirror. I could see my stomach under the fabric.

 

Maybe if I got sick it wouldn't look so bad. I decided to go to the bathroom and purge, and wonderfully enough I felt a ton better.

 

I wiped my mouth and smiled in the mirror to make sure that there wasn't anything in my teeth. After I was all clear, I went to Toby and told him I was ready.

 

Toby, being the gentleman he was, opened the passenger door for me and I smiled at him and got into his beat up F250. He mainly used his truck for farming, but sometimes he would drive it around town.

 

Putting Quiet Riot on, Toby said, "Ready?"

 

"Absolutely," I said with a genuine smile.

 

After we arrived at the crowded mall and grabbed our coffees from Starbucks, Toby took us to Olive Garden and we enjoyed a delicious meal together. Until I saw something I shouldn't have.

 

Clark was sitting with a beautiful brunette who had to be a size 0 and a model. I knew I was too fat, I thought and bit back the tears.

 

My dinner began to weigh a million pounds in my stomach, and I knew what I needed to do.

 

"Excuse me," I said to Toby and took myself to the bathroom.

 

I closed my stall and put my fist under my stomach and pushed up until there was nothing left.

 

Before I knew what was happening, I was on the bathroom floor and people were calling for help.

 

I lost full consciousness as Toby entered the women's restroom rushing towards me.

 

****

 

"Maddy. Maddy, please wake up. Please," Toby was holding my hand and sitting next to me at the hospital? Was I at a hospital? I can't afford hospital bills.

 

"Toby?" I tried to speak but my throat was too dry.

 

"You took your bulimia too far this time, Mads," Toby was crying, and I yearned to reach out and wipe the tears from his face.

 

"You knew?" I croaked.

 

"Of course I knew. I'm not stupid. I thought you would stop. I thought you wanted to live."

 

"I do want to live. I just want people to want me to live. I want to be wanted. I want to be loved, and I thought this would help."

 

"Does it look like it helped, dammit?" Toby was shaking he was so mad.

 

"I didn't know I was pushing myself too far. I didn't know it was a big deal."

 

Toby's heartbroken green eyes looked at me from under his long brown hair. I'm not sure he could think of anything to say to me. I didn't blame him. I was afraid, and it was then I realized I was living a life of fear.

 

 

 

 

 

This is the first installment of fiction pieces based on my struggle with bulimia. I was asked to write about my battle with this eating disorder. I believe all people are beautiful despite size, but my vision for myself is skewed. I can see that others are pretty, but it's usually impossible for me. This is a constant battle I face. I am working on quitting and being 100% better, but it's not as easy as desired. If you know anyone with an  eating disorder, please be kind and listen. It's hard to go through and your views on yourself while dealing with an eating disorder are very different than those from everyone else. People tell me I am thin, but that's not what I see in the mirror. Just be kind to one another, always.



Worth It (Adam and Izzy cont'd)

Adam looked around his old bedroom that he grew up in and a hint of shame filled his gut. This was not the life he had wanted for his baby girl. He wanted her to have her own room with her own things, not to share a bedroom with her father. Nothing had gone according to plan.

Failure. That's all you are, Adam thought to himself as he moved furniture around to fit Izzy's new bed into his tiny room, their tiny room. He felt as though he had done nothing but fail his family. He couldn't save his wife, and was he actually saving his daughter by moving away from her mother?

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Izzy exclaimed running up the stairs to the man who meant the world to her. There was a thud, and Adam ran out of his room to find his slightly disheveled daughter had tripped up the last step. She looked at her scuffed knee and shook it off. She smiled at her father and held out an envelope.

"Mamma came. She said she couldn't stay, but gave me this for you," Izzy said all smiles. She had no idea what was going on, and that hurt Adam more than anything. Would she hate him for leaving her mother? Would she want to leave him for Jasmine? Could he even raise her properly?

"Thank you baby girl," he said as he picked her up and opened the envelope.

It read:

Adam,

I should never have been a mother, let alone a wife. I am far too selfish, as I now know. My novel, as I am sure you are aware, was a success. Please accept this check as a form of compensation. I will send monthly child support. However, right now I am going on a book tour for a year. I hope I have given you enough money to start a happy life. I am sorry for the pain I have put you through. I signed the papers. We are no longer married. I hope you find a woman who truly makes you happy.

Yours,

Jasmine

"Daddy, you're crying," Izzy said wiping her father's tears and hugging him around his neck.

"Baby, I have some explaining to do," he said as he glanced at the check.

It said:

To Adam Gomez, with love. $100,000.

More tears poured down his cheeks, and Izzy listened to her father explain why her mom wouldn't be around anymore, why they had moved away and that Mommy still loved her no matter what.

Adam didn't know if that last part was really true, but he prayed that it was.

Izzy hugged her father and said, "We will be okay Daddy. You always take care of me."

FIVE YEARS LATER

"Dad, come on," Isabelle yelled up the stairs impatiently.

Adam glanced around the house he had bought with the check from Jasmine, and smiled at the fact that he could now afford to pay her back.

This house was everything Adam and Isabelle needed and wanted. Adam remembered the day they looked at it. His Izzy had sat on the stairs and proclaimed that this must be theirs, and Adam fought tooth and nail to make it so.

It was filled with memories of the two of them painting the walls together. There were even paint stains on the carpet should they forget.

"Alright, Izzy. Now, if you don't like her, you tell me immediately. I won't date a woman that you do not approve of. Understood?"

"Dad, you've been dating for two months now. You're just scared...but I'm scared too," Isabelle admitted clutching at her dress. It had flowers on it and girls like flowers right? It was the best one that she owned so she hoped her daddy's girlfriend would like it. Isabelle had even tried curling her hair by herself, but nothing worked so she put it all up in a pony tail.

"You look beautiful, Izzy," Adam said kissing his daughter's forehead.

A knock on the door startled both the father and daughter, and Adam forced a nervous smile and opened the door.

Isabelle looked at the woman and knew she was perfect for her father. The woman was a few inches shorter than Adam. She had beautifully red hair and a face full of freckles. Isabelle thought it reminded her of cotton candy for some reason.

"Izzy, this is Bailey," Adam said with a shaky voice.

"Normally, I would shake your hand, Izzy or Isabelle? But, I am super nervous and my hands are all sweaty," Bailey's voice seemed to match the shakiness of her father's.

"That's okay," Isabelle assured her with a smile and right then she knew that someday the three of them would be a family. At that moment, the same thought crossed through all three of their minds.

That night was filled with laughter and love which Isabelle and Adam had only shared with each other. Isabelle smiled and thought, my family is complete.

Worth it

She was an artist. It just took her a long time to discover what kind of artist she was. Most of her developing years she spent lost in a sea of music sheets and sketch books. Broken crayons and colored pencils consumed her bedroom and a guitar leaned, lonely, against the wall she had painted with a million different shades and hues.

No matter what she created, no matter what she accomplished, the art she was doing meant nothing to her. She never received the praise she wanted. She would become so proud of her works, but all she heard were negative statements.

"That's okay, but you should do this differently." 

And she would. She would do everything to try and make her music, her pictures and her paintings something to be desired. However, it was all in vain. Nobody wanted it. But it wasn't her fault. She hadn't discovered her art yet. All she had been doing was practicing the art of others. Her art was still waiting for her.

She would cry herself to sleep, praying to find her calling. What was her purpose? Did she even have one? Did this world even need her? Why the hell had she been created?

Senior year of high school, she had this one teacher who taught college prep English. This teacher changed the girl's world forever.

It was in this class, she learned how to write essays. Here she learned that her art was writing. From then on she dedicated her life to her writing. She went to Mizzou and broadened and strengthened her form of art. It was here that she met her husband. He was part of the creative writing major, and they spent their four years of college bouncing ideas off one-another. It was at Mizzou that the couple decided to co-write a novel together. 

This book became a NY Times Best Seller. The woman loved the spotlight, she craved the attention. After all, she had spent her entire life striving and searching for it.

Every day after their book's success, she dedicated her time to writing her next best-selling novel.

"Jazmine," her husband pleaded softly. "Please, take a break. I need you. Our daughter needs you. Please leave your computer and just spend some time with us. We miss you."

"I can't, Adam," she said typing away, not even bothering to look at her heart-broken and weary husband. "I am on the verge of success. I cannot quit now."

Adam took a deep breath and a tear rolled down his pale cheek. Jasmine kept writing, and Adam went to tend to their beautiful daughter Isabelle. Izzy had received her mother's ocean blue eyes, and her father's curly black hair. She was three now, and knew nothing of her mother aside from her addiction to writing. 

Adam knew the art had consumed Jasmine's mind. His wife, his love, was gone. He hadn't seen her for too many years. He taken on three jobs to support the family. And just to make sure Isabelle was fed, he would come home on his breaks. 

With deep sadness and something that felt like a tear in his heart, Adam placed a packet of papers on the kitchen table. He packed two bags, one for Izzy and one for himself. His parents were awaiting their arrival.

Adam glanced at his wife's cold, wooden office door that seemed to be miles away, and tears poured down his weary cheeks. He wished he knew how to help. He had tried therapists, psychiatrists and priests. Jasmine had left him so long ago, and he had to leave her now, for the sake of his baby girl.

Resolve filled his chest, or perhaps it was adrenaline, and he picked up his child and kissed her forehead. They left that house and prayed for a better future. 

That night Jasmine sent in her manuscript, and the next week it was sent to the printers. Sure enough, it was another best-seller, and with all the press and publicity it took Jasmine three weeks to notice her family was gone. It took her three weeks to discover the packet from her husband begging for a divorce. 

Attached to the packet was a post-it with a message from Adam:

I hope it was worth it,

Love,

Adam

 

Life goes on

"Life goes on," my snotty cousin said while she sat at the foot of my bed. "You can't keep doing this. You need a job, and at this rate you are going to be fired." She was talking about the fact that I hadn't gone to work for a week and a half.

Angela sat on her high horse pretending she knew everything, pretending she knew what it was like to lose a lover, to lose a best friend, to lose a husband.

Her stupid blue eyes looked down at her nail beds, which I am sure she thought were due for a manicure. I can't begin to imagine what she thought of my house, especially since she lived in a penthouse suite and wore high end clothing that I lack the ability to pronounce. Her parents were loaded, and she never had to pay for a thing. Go figure.

"Ang, just go. I didn't ask for you to be here. Let me be. I am just tired. I'll go to work tomorrow. They understand," at least I hoped that they did.

With a harumph Angela got up and headed out the door, "We are all just worried about you. It's been two weeks. You really should be bouncing back by now."

I grabbed my husbands old pillow and hugged it close to my chest smelling the faint scent of his shampoo left over from all the late night showers we had taken together, but it was all over now. I would never get to shower and laugh with him again.

I closed my eyes and listened for the sound of my front door to close before I allowed myself to succumb to the tears that had been patiently waiting in the form of a lump in my throat.

I fell asleep, eventually, and dreamed of the night that Kyle, my husband had passed away.

"Babe, I have to go," Kyle said as he buttoned his blue uniform.

I gave him kisses on his neck and begged him not to go. "You can just call in sick. You haven't missed a day since you started five years ago, let somebody else cover for you and stay with your gorgeous wife."

I continued to kiss his neck, and moved up to his lips. Kyle sighed and pushed me away looking at me with his big, brown, amazing eyes. I swear I had never seen anything more magical. 

"My duty is to serve and protect. If I don't go, then I have failed this city. I have to go. I love you Kylie. Please, lock the door after I leave."

He meant the chain lock. He always locked the deadbolt and door lock before he would leave. My job was the chain. 

"You stay safe, please. I love you so much!" I said running to give him a hug before he attached his holster.

He hugged me back, and kissed the top of my head. In his arms, I knew I'd be safe.

"I love you too, Kylie," he kissed me full on the lips, and if I could have, I would have pulled him back to the bedroom.

He locked everything as per usual and I followed my ordered to lock the chain. I went to the bedroom and decided to flip through our wedding book. He was perfect in his suit. I had never seen a man more perfect than him. He had this straight blonde hair that grew up instead of out, and that alone made his brown eyes stand out even more. He was so tall that when he kissed me at our wedding he had wrapped his arms around me and picked me up so our lips could reach each other.

Some days,I wished he wasn't a police officer. Some days, I wish he had a safe office job. Some days, I wish we didn't live in Chicago.

I fell asleep on the couch with the photo album in my lap, when I heard that knock on the door. The knock that I wish I hadn't gone and investigated. That knock that would change my life forever.

Groggily, I went to the door to see who it was. Through the peephole, I saw Kyle's partner, Jake looking down the street.

I unchained and unlocked the door, and my heart began to race, "Where is he? Where is Kyle?" I frantically searched the streets for some sign that my husband was out there.

"Kylie, I am so sorry," Jake said hanging his head. "Kyle went to stop a drug deal from happening, and," he paused trying to finish the wretched sentence. "And he was shot and killed instantly."

I dropped to my knees and cried. I can't remember how long I cried, but Jake eventually picked me up and took me to the couch. He stayed and made tea, coffee and hot chocolate trying anything to help. All I could feel, though, was this giant hole in my chest.

I woke up gasping from the pain of the dream. I missed Kyle so much. I would give anything to have him back. Why did this have to happen to us? What had we done to deserve this?

I slowly threw my legs out from under the covers of what was now just my bed and went to feed Kyle's bulldog, Frank. After I poured the cup of food into his bowl he galloped over and devoured his meal in less than a minute. I patted his head and threw away all of the tissues I had used to soak up my tears.

In the trash bin, a small test stared up at me with a little pink plus sign. I had planned on telling Kyle the night he had passed away that we were finally expecting. After three years of trying, we were finally pregnant.

It was just me and baby now, and dammit I was scared.

Big Changes Part 2

I drove my car to the parking lot of the St. Louis Courier and parked it far away from all other vehicles. I sat there staring at my radio's clock that was informing me I was twenty minutes early. This was just like me, I was always early. I even had bosses tell me to stop coming to work so early, but today I thought would be special. I thought I would have the courage to show up early and introduce myself to everyone and make a great first impression.

What do you even say to make a good first impression? What defines a good first impression anyways?

I immediately thought of Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire when he made a "great impression of a hotdog." Perhaps I could get away with that. If I do that impersonation, then at least I would make people laugh. That's a good sign usually. Or, I could talk about illogical things like why do fairytales never make sense. Why would Rapunzel and her prince be sent to exile? Why did he have to be blinded? Also, why did Walt Disney have to change the endings to most of the fairytales he made into movies? It only makes children believe the world is a happy and wonderful place, and that sure as hell isn't true. No, I shouldn't cuss on my first day, that's bad form.

I could talk about stocks and bonds...but I don't know anything about that subject, so that's out. As is sports. I hate sports. Why are there sports? Is there even a purpose? I don't get it. Sports are just an excuse to be aggressive for no real reason. I shouldn't talk about sports. What should I talk about?

There was a sharp rap on my window and I nearly jumped out of my seatbelt. I looked over and met the eyes of a man who couldn't be much older than me. He was gorgeous in every kind of way. His curly red hair framed his face and his bright blue eyes looked directly into my insignificant brown ones.Why did I have to have brown eyes?

 I bet he was a model. Was he actually writer?

He began to look at me as if I had a mental problem, so I rolled down my window which consequently made rust cascade down my car onto his leather loafers.

"I'm sorry, my car is..." but I couldn't think of the right word or any word.

"It's okay, mine is too. You must be Julia. I am David the photo-editor," that explained everything. Photo people are always perfect. "I promise we don't bite. There is coffee and muffins in the office, but if you want to stay out here and keep staring and the street you are more that welcome to," he said with a grin.

"Are there blueberry muffins?" I asked, my mind immediately jumped to the subject of food. Oh! I could talk about food! Everyone eats!

"If there weren't, I would have to turn in my letter of resignation," he declared, and all I could think was that there damn-well had better be blueberry muffins.

"Give me a minute to grab my things, and oh, you may want to move your feet," I warned before I rolled my window back up.

He took a few steps back and I exited my vehicle, my sanctuary, and moved towards a new beginning.

I took a full look at David and realized he was really perfect. He could actually be a model. His shirt was tight enough that I could see his beautifully chiseled muscles move and he walked inside the office.

Shaking my head of that nonsense, I moved my gaze towards the office building. It was all brick, two stories and appeared to have been built in the mid 70's. It wasn't much different from my old office, at least on the outside.

David opened the giant steel door and held it for me.

"Ladies first," he said as he waited for me to enter.

I followed the signs to the office and climbed the metallic stairs to the second floor. I opened the door and was greeted by signs saying, "Welcome Julia!" Everyone was swarmed around a giant oak table with coffee and at least a dozen blueberry muffins.

Yes, I thought and smiled.

"Wow, this is fantastic," I said completely shocked. "Thank you all so much!"

I walked up to the table and forgot about any form of small talk I had prepared. We all sat in office chairs and talked about our newspaper experiences. The chit chat lasted for an hour until the police scanner went off announcing a deathly accident on I-270.

"That's us," David said looking at me. "Grab your recorder and let's go boss."

Boss, that was a thought.

"Yep, let's go," I said with a smile and headed to cover my first real story.

Big changes Part 1

Today is the day. Today I become a journalist, well a real journalist anyway.

I looked at the cluttered mess that laid strewn across the desk where I had poured my hear and soul out at for the past three years. My favorite mug still had some old coffee in it left over from the last production night. I had dedicated my life to making my college newspaper the best it could be, but today I was going to the St. Louis Courier. Today I was going to be a real life news editor. Sure, I had been the news editor at my campus paper, but that was nothing compared to real news editing, right?

Everything is going to be different, I thought as I packed up my tattered planner that listed every story my writers had taken for each production day. I really should throw it away, but I knew better. I am too sentimental. This past year was huge for me. I covered amazing hard hitting news stories, graduated and got hired. Why they hired me I don't know, but I am going to roll with it.

Somehow I managed to fit everything of mine into one box. How can three years fit in just one box? I carried it out to my old clunker Jeep Cherokee. It was dropping rust as if it had severe dandruff, but it still drove and that was what mattered.

"Julia," a familiar voice hollered at me. Derek my assistant news editor, or ex-assistant news editor, was running towards me with a very feminine bag in his hand.

"Look," he said pushing his unruly brown hair out of his eyes, "You were the best boss I could have ever asked for, and I am going to miss you."

Derek handed me the bag and avoided eye-contact. He had never been one for expressing emotions, so this was a shock for me and I imagine a struggle for him.

"Derek, you didn't need to do this," I said as I opened the bag. An eleventh doctor teddy bear inspired by Doctor Who smiled up at me holding a sonic screwdriver. A huge grin spread across my face.

"Maybe he can bring you good look in the Lou or something," Derek said and started to walk away.

"Don't you dare think you can walk away from me after this!"

I ran after him and gave him the biggest hug possible. He froze for a moment before he succumbed and embraced me back.

"Thank you Derek. This was perfect," I said trying to hold back my own emotions.

"Yeah, well, stay safe."

I nodded and climbed into my car. Derek walked away and I dropped my head on the steering wheel and cried harder than I had in years.

I'm not ready for this. I don't want everything to be different, I thought as I hugged my new teddy close to my chest. Everything was going to change and I wasn't ready.

Little Green Monster

I want a love like theirs, Hannah thought to herself as she watched a teenage couple order matching Starbucks drinks. The boyfriend wrapped his arm around his girlfriend and kissed the top of her head.

Hannah sighed and continued cleaning the coffee tables.

Everyone else gets to show their affection, and do cute things. I just want that with Tyler. I want to flaunt it! Hannah started scrubbing harder from frustration and began to think more about her fiance.

Tyler was a pain in the ass. She was always late. She hated PDA, and worst of all, she was a she.

That's right, Hannah was gay. Hannah was a lesbian. She had to go and fall in love with a woman. She had to break her family's heart and be homosexual. Why couldn't she be normal? She had been told to pray about it, but nothing ever changed. She still loved Tyler.

But why? Hannah thought begrudgingly.

The annoying cowbell on the cafe's door went off for the millionth customer that day, and it took every ounce of Hannah's being not to scream at the customer to just go away. However, she looked up and met the gaze of her sister, Annabelle, who was walking towards her.

Annabelle was the family's pride and joy. She fell in love with a man. She can have a baby the right and proper way. She graduated college in 4 years and not 5. She had blonde, perfectly straight hair and green eyes that couldn't compare to anyone else. There was nothing wrong with Annabelle, and Hannah knew she would always live in her shadow.

"Hannah, how are you?" Annabelle asked in a stiff, cold manner.

"I'm great. Never been better," Hannah said barely able to speak. She focused on cleaning the tables.

"Great. I am getting married next month and I would like you to come, but just you."

Hannah's face turned a deep shade of red that she could feel expanding all the way to her toes. She almost dropped the mug in her hand out of shock. Annabelle held out an invitation and waited for her sister to accept.

Annabelle had only been with her now-fiance for 10 months, and they were engaged?! And getting married next month?! Hannah and Tyler had been together for 5 years. YEARS! This wasn't fair. Both girls were working two jobs just to save up for a wedding. Neither one was lucky enough to have parents that would help out. Tyler and Hannah were both seen as abominations, and both families were waiting for God to answer their prayers and heal their daughters. Little did they know that God had made them that way on purpose.

Apparently the cowbell had gone off again, but whoever had walked through that door Hannah had missed it. She was completely thrown.

A beautiful woman with gorgeous, curly brown hair and adorable freckles splattered across her face walked over to the two sisters and wrapped her perfectly manicured hand around the invitation that was still being held in the air.

"It's either both of us, or neither of us," Tyler said to a now speechless Annabelle. "Your choice."

Hannah gazed in admiration at her fiance and watched the scene unfold, but first she admired the effort Ty had put into getting ready for their date tonight.

Tyler was wearing Hannah's favorite dress. It showed just enough cleavage to entice the mind, but covered everything in a tasteful way. It accentuated her curves in the best way possible, and it made Hannah want to skip their date entirely.

Annabelle finally spoke, "My family won't have it. Hannah may come, but she is the only one."

Hannah finally found her voice, and put her arm around her fiance, "Then, it's neither of us. I hope you have a wonderful marriage."

Her sister stormed out of the coffee shop with a huff and some senseless muttering under her breath.

Hannah and Tyler exchanged looks, and Tyler bent down to kiss her fiance.

I want a love like ours, Hannah thought and kissed her love back.