I jolted awake one afternoon, greeted by the blaring TV in my room. How many hours or days had I been stewing here? My eyes resembled those of a pufferfish after a good sob session. If this were a regular day, Auntie might have doused me in a lecture by now, or my cousins would have tested their arm strength with flying pillows or spoons. But today, they'd collectively decided to grant me the 'ignore Sidney' award. I mustered a weak "Thank you" for their kindness between sniffles.
In a parallel universe, maybe I would've already been drenched in Auntie's scolding, hit by a cushion barrage from Carson and his mom, or smacked with the good ol' two-handed spoon slap by my cousins. But no, this was the "Sympathetic Sidney Special." Even Tiya, Margo, and Cynthia, my go-to trio for relentless advice, had transformed into the "Leave Sidney Alone Club." I mentally slapped a "Closed for Repairs" sign on my heart, since crying seemed to be its favorite hobby these days.
But wait, rewind. What's this? This trio of guardian angels allowed me to marinate in my melodrama. This was my "Eat, Pray, Cry" moment. Suddenly, I felt like I was in a telenovela, and the house was my dramatic backdrop. My eyes deserved an award for their contribution to the redness industry. Forget "The Walking Dead"; I was "The Sobbing Undead."
In a typical scenario, I would've been given the ol' Auntie Special, a scolding served with a side of sage advice, or my cousins would've staged a cushion uprising, pelting me with pillows. But oh no, today they'd upgraded to the "Sydney Sulk Sanctuary." It was like they collectively decided I needed an emotional isolation chamber, which, to be honest, I appreciated more than I could admit.
If this were a regular day, I'd be knee-deep in Auntie's nagging, dodging pillow missiles from Carson and his mom, or potentially facing a spoon throwdown from my cousins. But alas, today was declared "International Sidney Ignorance Day." Even my trusted advisors – Tiya, Margo, and Cynthia – had taken their well-deserved breaks from my drama. I sniffled a thank you to the universe, grateful for the brief hiatus from well-intentioned but exhausting advice.
Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, I'd probably be drowning in Auntie's lectures, dodging cushion attacks from Carson's mom, or fending off spoon-flinging courtesy of my cousins. Yet here I was, granted a VIP pass to the "Ignore Sidney's Existence" club. Even the renowned Trio of Troubleshooting—Tiya, Margo, and Cynthia—had conveniently vanished, probably enjoying a mental vacation from my emotional rollercoaster. I sniffled my gratitude to an empty room, realizing that sometimes even the most unexpected situations could bring a hint of relief.
Of course, in the land of normalcy, I'd have been treated to a healthy dose of Auntie's wisdom, maybe a cushion ambush from Carson's mom, or even a surprise spoon artillery assault from my cousins. But today, I was granted VIP membership to the "Sidney's Solo Suffering Society." Even my emotional rescue experts—Tiya, Margo, and Cynthia—had decided to take an unscheduled vacation from my drama. I sniffled, offering a silent nod of appreciation to the universe for the comic irony of my situation.
***
A soft knock roused me from my thoughts one Friday afternoon. The eve of the finale had arrived, and I found myself grappling with uncertainty—should I attend the event, and if so, how should I prepare?
I had skipped all the rehearsals. There had been three of them leading up to the grand finale. My absence must have left an impression that I might not show up at all.
"Sid..." Carson's gentle voice called out, a touch of concern evident. "Sid," he repeated, softly yet persistently.
I cleared my throat before attempting to speak. The weight of the upcoming event and the turmoil within me had left my voice trembling. "Carson, please come in," I invited, my voice carrying a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity.
The door creaked open, and Carson leaned against the door frame. His gaze rested on me for a moment, as if assessing my state of mind, before he chose to approach and sit on the edge of the bed. He managed a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Beneath his gaze, I felt seen—truly seen—and understood.
"Why does it seem like you're the one being bombarded with these issues?" I attempted to inject a hint of humor, but my heart felt heavy. I hugged a pillow to my chest, seeking comfort in its softness.
Carson's sigh was laced with genuine concern. He was the embodiment of a true friend—someone who cared deeply and sincerely. "You don't deserve any of this, Sid. The critics, the manufactured controversies created for ratings—it's all exploiting the situation for their gain."
"That's showbiz, Carson," I responded, my voice a mixture of resignation and frustration. I could feel Carson's unwavering gaze on me, understanding my struggles even when I couldn't fully express them. I averted my eyes and continued, "I used to be a fighter. I don't know when I started wavering and considering backing out."
Carson's expression turned thoughtful, his concern evident. He took a moment before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps it's because of Rayden?"
Clutching the pillow tighter, I let his words sink in. It was as if he could read my thoughts. "Maybe it's the thought of a child being involved? If Sylvia is indeed pregnant and Rayden is the father, who am I to disrupt their story? I'd just be a complication in their relationship."
"I understand, Sid. But consider this: wouldn't it be wiser for Rayden to clarify things before you make your decision? You don't want to live with regrets and 'what ifs.' What I mean is, before you make up your mind, why not seek answers?" His words resonated with a profound truth that touched my heart.
"I don't know, Carson. I genuinely don't."
"Attending the finale means honoring the battle you began. The Sidney I know doesn't just fight; she leaves an indelible mark. Rayden may choose you or he may not. Either way, his decision might bring pain, but afterward, you won't have regrets. You won't regret seizing the opportunity to take a chance. And after all is said and done, I promise to help you find your father." Carson's voice was a soothing balm, his words sincere and heartfelt.
"Why are you doing all this for me, Carson?"
His eyes shimmered with emotion, and a soft, affectionate smile graced his lips. "I don't want you to live with regret, Sidney. Some battles call for retreat, but this isn't one of them."
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn't hold back the emotion any longer. "I don't deserve a friend like you," I confessed, my voice quivering.
Carson's gaze held a mixture of compassion and determination. "Come here," he whispered gently, opening his arms to me.
Moving toward him felt like returning to a safe harbor. He enveloped me in a warm embrace, his presence a source of solace. I found myself seeking refuge against his chest, tears falling freely. "I have to see this through, Carson. I have to..."
"I'm right here with you, Sid," he murmured, his voice a soothing reassurance. "Let's give them a finale they won't forget."
At that moment, Carson's sincerity and unwavering support touched me deeply. It was a reminder that genuine friendship could be a guiding light, even in the midst of uncertainty.