Write a Story About Someone Who is Cursed to Always Say the Opposite of What They Mean

when life gives you lemons

“Did you grab the lemons?” Shit. Shit. Lemons. I’m usually so on top of it, so prepared. Fucking lemons, of all things. “Must’ve forgotten. Sorry.” Alexis looks disappointed. She’s going to end it with me any day. I know it. “Babe, come on. We’re making my mom’s Moroccan chicken tonight. I told you lemons are an integral part of this dish.” “Yeah, I know. Sorry.” “Damn it, Wren, what are we supposed to do now? The store is closed.” I need to get out of this situation. I throw my hands up and walk away, saying nothing. I want to tell her I got fired from my job today and am hardly holding onto my sanity, let alone her grocery list. “So you’re just gonna walk away then? You’re just gonna walk away? You can’t run from your problems forever, Wren!"

They say you should always say what you mean, but I can’t. I’m cursed with paralyzing self-doubt which leads me to self-sabotage quite regularly. So regularly, in fact, I’ve never kept a job for longer than two months. I’m currently in a three-year relationship with a girl I want to marry, and every day I wish I could get out. It’s been years of this painstaking anxiety; she’s trapped me in a glass box from which I can’t escape. This woman is invested. Invested.

She’s a great girl: conventionally attractive, works as a nutritionist. Idyllic childhood. Every so often she asks if I love her and I say yes. Yes, I love her. No, I don’t—but I’ll never admit it. It’s hard to love someone when you hate yourself. Alright, fine. I do love her. I do. I want to, more than anything. It's just, I fear she’ll never understand me. Maybe that’s my own problem for never saying what I mean; for never being “vulnerable.” I told her the thought of having kids makes me want to vomit, yet I do want children—two of them. I should really go back in there and apologize and tell her I lost my job today. That’s why I forgot the lemons. Yeah, I’ll do that.

“Alexis?” There she is, drinking chardonnay, watching Gray’s Anatomy. “What, Wren. What could you possibly want? I am so done with this shit, so done.” “You know what? Me too. I’ve thought about this a lot, and maybe we should just break up. Does that work for you?” “I thought you’d never ask.” “Good. Well I guess I’ll go then.” “Yeah, go, Wren. Walk out the door, like you always do. Are you ever going to fight for what you want? Do you want anything, do you care about anything at all?” “No, I guess I don’t. Goodbye, Alexis.”

It’s raining tonight. Why did I just do that? I love Alexis more than life itself. I wonder, is this really over? I hope not. I need to go back in there and tell her how I really feel. Yeah, I’ll do that.