Riptide.

”Ali, it pains to me to see you like this. But I can’t keep pretending that I love you. I’m sorry, but it’s over…”

”Alison, you’ve got to get over him. Jack isn’t worth it. But oh my God, did you hear about his promotion? He’s getting closer to becoming partner.”

”Alison, why can’t you be more like your older sister, Beverly? She’s got a husband and two kids. She was settled down by the age of 24. Why aren’t you?”

I find myself alone in a room full of people. After the year I’ve had, the last thing I want to deal with is being in a room full of family and friends. But if I didn’t go to my baby sister’s high school graduation, I’d be considered a monster to my parents and older sister, Beverly. Sure, I’m proud of Aria but it’s hard to pretend you’re happy for someone when your own life seems to be crashing down upon you.

Forcing a fake smile on my lips, I walk over to my parents and Aria; hugging my baby sister and kissing my father’s cheek.

“Alison, glad you can make it.” My mother says in a fake syrupy sweet voice. “I’m sorry to hear about Jack; I honestly thought you two would have gotten married. A doctor and a lawyer; that would make the perfect couple.”

“Yea perfect.” I mutter as I grab a flute of champagne from the waiter walking past us.

“What went wrong?” Mother asks. “What could you have possibly done to ruin such an amazing relationship?”

“I ruined this?” I question her. “Excuse me, did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, he did something wrong?”

“Alison, there is no need to shout.” My mother tells me. At this point I didn’t realize how loud I got; not until I look around and see everyone looking at us.

“I’m always going to be a disappointment to you, aren’t I?” I ask her. “I went to school to become a doctor, you were disappointed that I didn’t graduate top of my class but managed to graduate early. I get a boyfriend, you were disappointed that he wasn’t a lawyer. So I dump him and get a lawyer that I find out constantly cheats on me and breaks up with me a day before our 2 year anniversary and you blame me for the break up. And on top of that you question when I’m going to settle down and have kids. I can’t do anything right.” I turn to my little sister and force a sad smile on my lips. “I’m sorry Aria, but I’ve got to go. I’m extremely proud of you, you managed to become the woman I never could.” I give her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before storming out of the hall my mother rented for the event.

As I wait for the valet, Aria comes out and stands next to me, wrapping her arms around my left arm. “I’m sorry for mom,” she begins. “You don’t deserve any of her criticism. Sure you’re not the homemaker her and Bev are and that’s fine. Honestly you were my role model growing up. I always thought you, out of all of us, had their life together. You’re the reason why I’m going to medical school.”

“Did you tell mom that?” I ask her.

She just shakes her head, “she had a hissy fit when you went to medical school. I can only imagine what she’ll do when her last daughter decides to make something out of her life as well.”

“If you need any help, remember I’ll always be there for you,” I remind her. “I thought how hard medical school can be.”

“Thanks Ali.” She smiles before kissing my cheek. “I hope one day, you’ll find yourself and see exactly what I see.” I wave goodbye as she walks back into her party. By then my BMW arrives and I get in; tipping the valet guy before speeding off to my Manhattan apartment.

“Hey Ali,” Clark the doorman says, greeting me as I walk into the building. “You’re home early. Parents get on your nerves?”

“You know the answer to that Clark,” I chuckle as I wait for the elevator. He just laughs before greeting another person. Once the elevator comes and I get on, I start to feel the tears pricking my eyes. And when I realize that my trip up to the tenth floor is going to be done by myself, I allow those tears to flow; unable to keep everything bottled in.

**

I look at myself in my mirror. My brown hair done nicely as well as my make-up; well before I turned into a crying mess. My clothing was perfect as well as my shoes and accessories. I should be happy. I have everything most girls dream of. But I’m not. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was truly, blissfully happy.

Maybe it was back in high school, a bunch of us decided to get into an old VW van and drove cross country. For that month or so I felt free. I didn’t have my parents breathing down my neck and I didn’t have to worry about grades or boys. It was just me and a group of my friends living life.

It’s been awhile since I’ve even see them. After that trip we all drifted. Two of them are married with kids. Another lives in Florida with her girlfriend and their three Yorkie puppies. None of us really talked in awhile other than the occasional Facebook message. Honestly if it wasn’t for Facebook, I wouldn’t be in contact at all. I’d have no idea what ever happened to them. Feeling in the nostalgic mood, I pull the scrapbook from that summer. Maybe a walk down memory lane would make me feel better.

Four glasses of red wine later, I still don’t feel better. I actually feel worse. I never thought nostalgia could make me feel like crap. I put down the book and pick up my laptop. I type in beach towns in California and look through them all, settling on one that seems the closest to the town we spent a couple weeks in that amazing summer. A smiles appears on my lips as I print out the directions before I get up off my couch and head into my room.

I pull out two of my carry on bags, stuffing both of them to the gill with clothing. I grab my make-up bag and take out the make-up I don’t usually wear; making room for my facial creams and other essentials. I remove the make-up I’m currently wearing and put my hair up in a messy bun before heading back into my bedroom and remove the jumpsuit I’m currently wearing and replacing it with cut-off shorts and a t-shirt.

Once in my living room, I grab my iPhone and dial customer service. When they answer, I take a deep breath, “yes, I would like to cancel my service…”

When I get off the phone with Sprint, I delete my Facebook followed by my Twitter. Feeling as though the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders, I grab my bags and car keys before walking out of my apartment; not bothering to look back once...