The problem with that level of freedom was that it was all sky and no earth. There was no one to prevent me from floating out into space. From being lost and forgotten. The only solution was tying a rope from my waist to someone’s wrist and begging them to hold on to me.
Jaime held on to me. Audrey, Grace, and Emme too. They held on even when I’d been a wedding-crazed fiend and they held on when I was too busy grieving the life I’d almost had to be a good friend.
And Noah held on to me too.
And that was why everything hurt. It hurt from deep inside and also everywhere outside me, like the weight of gravity on my body was too much to endure. And everything was wrong. My words, my feelings, my thoughts—all wrong. Nothing came out right. Never the way I wanted.
I felt like a child running around with a butterfly net after dark, overeager and too imprecise to accomplish anything other than flailing until I tired myself out. A child too, because it seemed like I couldn’t explain to Noah that I was trying to protect him. I was trying to spare him the trouble of one more burden on his shoulders. The best I could manage was to rip up my words like blades of grass and throw them at him, hoping he understood that I couldn’t stay here and wait for him to realize he’d never truly wanted me to begin with.
And that was why I was crying in the shower when the bathroom door opened and I heard, “Hi, Shay. I’m home.”
I pressed my fingers to my eyes and sucked in a breath. “Hey, Gennie. How was your trip?”
“I went swimming every day and Noah let me have baby carrots when we stopped for snacks in Transylvania.”
I rested my forehead on the shower wall. I could do this. I could pull myself together and have a kid conversation. “Pennsylvania?”
“Mmm. That’s what Noah said but I still think it’s Transylvania. I like it better.” Then she added, “Noah went out to check the fences.”
I started to shave my legs. “Okay.”
“My mom said she’s happy you and Noah got married. She said, ‘Why am I not surprised it’s Shay What’s-Her-Name from high school?’” Gennie belted out a laugh. “Shay What’s-Her-Name. That’s funny.”
A sob threatened to break free and I had to work at breathing through it. “That is funny,” I managed. “Can you give me a few minutes to finish up in here and put on some clothes? You can tell me everything then.”
“Okay. I’m gonna go read in my room,” she called, the door slamming behind her.
Since I knew she’d come looking for me in approximately three minutes, I hurried through the rest of my shower and dressed quickly. It wasn’t until I went to call for Gennie that I noticed the small box sitting on my bed.
I pulled the sticky note off the top. In Noah’s firm hand it read:Here’s your proof.
When I opened the lid, I found pages of notebook paper folded into precise squares. I sifted through them, a gasp whooshing out of me as I recognized the sunflowers drawn all over the backs of those pages.
Those weremysunflowers. I’d drawn those.
My heart was thumping hard in my chest and my fingers didn’t want to work and my eyes were having trouble seeing through a mist of tears as I tried to unfold one of the notes.
My dearest Blue Gray,
This is my second note of the day but Walker’s government class is draining the life out of me and I need this distraction to stay awake.
You saved my ass on that algebra exam. There’s no way I didn’t pass but it was hairy on a few questions. Seriously, Blue, I owe you for all your help studying yesterday. I promise I won’t leave it to the last minute again.
I’m supposed to go to the daffodil festival with some people on Saturday but that sounds like a horrible idea now that I say it out loud. Here’s what I want to know: Why is that a festival, Blue? And can this town go a month without a festival? Or is life here so boring that they needed to plant a bunch of yellow flowers around town and send people on a scavenger hunt to prevent everyone from dropping dead from boredom?
Another question: Should I expect a tulip festival next month? And a grand May Day the month after, complete with virgins dancing unironically around poles? A better question: Does this town have any virgins left? Based on locker room chatter alone, I’d have to say the answer is no.
Write back soon and explain these things to me, please. I risk dropping dead of boredom without your insight.
All of my endless love,
? ? ? ?
I reached for another,nearly ripping the old paper in two as I loosened the intricate folds.
My darling Blue Gray,
I know you’ve grown weary of my complaints on the topic of this provincial town but have we discussed the matter of wind chill? Because it is quite unpleasant and this is coming from someone who was recently evicted from Switzerland. At this rate, I’m going to end up stealing every single one of your hoodies before spring comes.
