It wasn’t until the third month at my new job in the new location of Durmond that I realized that none of my coworkers from the old branch had reached out to me at all. I’d contacted them after I arrived, asked how things were going, all the normal stuff, but none of them answered. Not a single one. I’d been polite to them while there, tried to engage in conversation over the time I’d been there, but…still, once again, every relationship fell flat despite my best efforts.
At home that night, I looked in the mirror, my heart sinking as I realized I was, once again, utterly alone.
“What’s wrong with me?” I whispered. “Why can no one love me? What am I doing wrong?”
Not Sean, not Colette, not any of the people I’d once considered friends. It was like I was too uninteresting, too boring for any of them to care. Was it just because I liked a quiet life at home rather than going out to bars or parties or baseball games or whatever? Was there no hope for me if I couldn’t pretend to blend into that type of lifestyle?
Breaking up with Colette hadn’t bothered me as much as with Sean, but it had left a deep ache within my heart because I realized I didn’t know how to risk loving people anymore. I was too scared of being left alone, and in return…I was left alone. A self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps, but I really did try. I tried to be interested in her life, I tried to show affection to her. Same with my friends, I tried to keep in touch, ask about their lives, show that I cared.
But it always ended the same way, with me as the only person putting anything into the relationship. And then in the end, I was standing here in my apartment, staring at myself, realizing just how lonely I was.
I crawled into bed, crying bitterly lonely tears as I wished that there was someone – anyone – out there for me. Just one person in the entire world who would love me as I was, who wouldn’t care if I was a shifter or an introvert or anything else. Just one single person who would be there for me. I’d even be okay with just a friend, as long as I could count on them. Sure, I’d love to have someone there to share my life with, but anyone would be fine.
Except I was slowly coming to the conclusion that no one would ever love me.
Apparently, I was unlovable.
I cried myself to sleep, wondering what was wrong with me and if there was any way to fix it.
I was so tired of being lonely.
~~~~~
“Congratulations on your work anniversary,” Jimmy told me. “You’ve done a great job as branch manager.”
“Thank you. It’s helped that everyone’s been great to work with.” I tried to smile, tried not to show how much the company holiday celebration was draining me. Too many people, and of course the party coincided with the anniversary of my last promotion, so they all wanted to come and talk to me. That might be fine if it was a real conversation and not just the normal small talk that meant nothing.
“Boss!” Carol came over, looking like she’d had a few too many drinks, but she was smiling widely as she attempted to focus on me. “Merry Christmas! You have any big plans?”
The bank would be closed for two weeks, which was kind of a big deal, but we were doing some necessary remodeling and the regional manager had decided to just close the branch to make it easier. As a result, all the employees basically got two free weeks of vacation at the holidays, which made everyone pretty happy.
“Not really.” Another fake smile. “How about you?”
She eagerly began to tell me about her planned trip to some island getaway, while I tried my best to be interested and care, but honestly…holidays were hard on me.
It was hard, listening to all of them excitedly plan to see their family and friends when I knew I would go home alone to an empty apartment for yet another year. Part of the reason I was attending this party – as much as I hated them – was just because I was desperate for some kind of interaction with other people. Even these shallow conversations about nothing were at least something more than being home alone.
If only I was normal. If only it wasn’t so hard for me to make even just one friend.
The party wound down and people started leaving, but I stayed late to make sure any of the employees who’d had a little too much alcohol would get home safely – aka call them a ride if they needed. Then, once everyone had left, I cleaned up some of the perishables and left the trash outside before heading to my car and driving home in the light falling snow.
I opened the door to a cold, empty apartment and tried to ignore the sinking feeling that settled in around my heart. Holidays. They were supposed to be a celebration of time with loved ones, right? If only I had any. If only I wasn’t unlovable.
I’d given up on trying romance. After Colette, I’d tried dating apps a few times before deciding that just wasn’t for me. It was too hard for me to open up and trust people on those things, to know that they really were who they said they were. I tried going to bars a couple of times, but it seemed like people just wanted hookups, not to really meet someone. And I…well, I was demi, hookups were about the opposite of what I’d wanted.
Slowly, I’d realized there would never be someone for me. Not like that. I could barely meet new people at all, and when no one, not even the people I’d known as a kid, was interested in staying friends with me? What hope did I ever have of meeting someone who’d love me as me? Who’d really care about boring old me? No one.
That wasn’t to say that acceptance of that came easy. There were still days I felt a pang in my heart as I wished – longed – to have my own family. To have someone who would love me no matter what. I just knew it wasn’t really possible, so every time that desire popped up, I cried a little but reminded myself it was impossible.
I couldn’t even make lasting friends, for crying out loud. I didn’t know what I was doing wrong, but clearly something, since no one was interested in me, like, at all. Even as a friend. Some days, I could drown out my loneliness and pretend everything was okay – come home from work, prepare a simple meal, watch a movie or read a book, and go to bed. But some days were hard, and sometimes I wished I could just go to sleep and never wake up.
Holidays, though – holidays were especially difficult. I didn’t watch any TV during this time of year, because I knew all the ads would be showing happy families, happy people with other happy people – something that apparently I would never get. Even just looking out the window of my apartment sometimes was hard, seeing the lights on other people’s balcony railings and the outline of a tree inside, knowing that there were happy families inside and wondering why everyone else had someone to be with this time of year, but I wasn’t allowed the same. And they made me miss my family more, the only people who had ever really loved me, but they, too, were gone.
Today, I was exhausted enough from the party – even if it wasn’t that active, just dealing with that many people was draining to me – that at least I was able to go to sleep quickly after I got home. If my dreams were haunted by memories of the accident where my family died over eleven years ago now, well, that wasn’t unusual.
When morning came, I dragged myself out of bed and began getting ready for the day as if it somehow mattered that I wore real clothes instead of pajamas all day. It wasn’t like I was going to leave the apartment. I made breakfast, then sat down in my reading alcove and started into a book.
I liked books. No, I loved books. With books, for as long as I was reading them, I could immerse myself in a world that wasn’t mine. I could pretend for a while that I existed in another world that wasn’t my lonely life.
When darkness started to fall, I decided I didn’t want to stay in my apartment all day after all and went to take a walk. I got some coffee and started to wander along the riverbank, turning away from the direction of the more populated areas where there were Christmas lights and happy people were congregated, following the dark, icy river until I found a long stretch of empty space. I sat down on a retaining wall and drank my coffee, staring into the dark river and wondering if there was anything I could do to change my life. Here I was, an adult with a successful career on paper, yet I still had no idea how to keep friends. Clearly something was wrong with me, but what? I’d tried reading books on the subject but nothing changed. I’d attempted to attend seminars but had chickened out at the last minute because it was just too many people for me. Maybe I should try therapy.
I sighed to myself and was about to go back inside when I heard something from the river that sounded different. Something that almost sounded like a thump of something thrown against a hard object and then a voice of pain. Cautiously, I got up and came a few steps closer.
I nearly jumped when I saw a soaked, muddy mess that vaguely resembled the top half of a man trying to drag himself out of the river, his fingers digging into the dirt. Before I could even set my drink down, he seemed to lose consciousness and start to drift downriver.
Without thinking about it, I jumped forward and grabbed the back of his shirt, throwing myself backwards to pull him out of the river. With his soaked clothes – let alone a body size larger than mine – it was a bit of a struggle, but I finally managed to get him to safety and turn him over to make sure he was breathing.
To my relief, he was. I also realized, however, that he was supernatural – angel, I thought, based on the smell of his magic. I couldn’t just leave him here, but I couldn’t take him to the hospital, either, since he was a supernatural. I didn’t know any angels that could be his people, so apparently that meant I was just going to have to take him back to my place.
I sighed a little, then worked on dragging his arms over my shoulders so I could half carry, half drag him back to my apartment. The walk back felt a lot longer than the walk to the river and by the time I got home, I was wet, cold, and tired, but I still had my mystery patient to deal with.
After I washed him up, I discovered he had several injuries. Weapons, I thought, but some might be claws. I wasn’t sure exactly, but I tried to bandage them up to the best of my ability before tucking him in my bed, taking a shower and changing into dry clothes myself, and conking out on the couch.
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