More importantly, I see Grant. Family means more to him than I think he even realizes. His mother was, and continues to be, everything to him. The space she left in his heart will never truly be filled, but he longs for it.
It’s not my obligation to patch up the holes in his life. But I’m going to try leading him to his solutions and be there to support him along the way.
“THE END”, bolded, italicized, underlined.
If I can’t produce a satisfying ending for my characters, I’ll find a way to fit those puzzle pieces together for him, and his siblings, who need each other more than they know.
twenty-five
GRANT
In the momentswhen Liliana and I were first getting to know each other, when I would imagine dedicating my time to her outside of a project, this is what I fantasized about.
Me, at my dining room table facing the Boston city line. Forcing myself to finish the work I procrastinated on until the very last minute, with finals week on the horizon.
And Lily, sitting next to me, engulfed in my t-shirt slipping off the edge of her shoulder, playing word games on her phone because she finished her homework days ago.
I’ve already made every excuse to put off studying for my art marketing course. Cleaned the entire apartment. Cooked Lily dinner. Put together the gift bag I made for Clem’s first road trip.
After I spent half an hour considering which brand of crayons to drop in the bag, my girlfriend put her foot down. Lily told me it was time to get serious. Made me leave the gift bag on the coffee table and focus on my schoolwork. She means well when she says I won’t be able to pass my finals without buckling down.
I want to do anything else but this, though.
“Break time?”
The suggestion doesn’t hang in the air for more than a second before it’s shut down. “No. You’ve barely worked.”
“It’s been almost an hour!”
Lily doesn’t look up from her phone app but vaguely gestures in the direction of my kitchen’s clock. “It’s been twenty minutes.”
I glance over, squint my eyes to read the hands and do the mental math.
Fuck. It’s been eighteen minutes.
I scoff comically. “Okay, but if you round to the nearest hour, it’s been an hour.”
“No.”
I sigh, but a smile creeps onto my face anyways. Bickering, even as minimal as this, over the tiny things that don’t really matter, is becoming commonplace. Like we’re a married couple who returns home and throws around jokes only we find funny, because we know each other, and we can.
It’s my newest fantasy. Where we sit together in silence, just enjoying each other’s company, and spend every day with one another.
I love this girl’s existence. I love my girl so deeply. I pry her left hand away from her phone and kiss the finger that one day will become symbolic of what she means to me.
How early can I propose without her thinking I’m insane?
Liliana’s giggles cut through the silence of my apartment, and I stare up to see her eyes creasing in humor. “What’s up with you?”
I’m about to tell her how madly in love I am, but I’m afraid it’ll scare her. I mentally whack myself over the head. Saying “I love you” is too risky, but here I am kissing her ring finger and thinking about marriage proposals?
“Nothing.” I peck the rest of her fingers to play it off. “Just thinking of the things I want to share with you.”
It’s what I’ve been thinking about the most lately, both in the physical sense, having her by my side when I wake up and when I go to sleep, and in the emotional sense, too.
We haven’t talked about Billie’s birthday dinner. I’m grateful for that. It put into perspective how much trust I have in her to wait for when I’m ready to discuss things. I’m sure she knows something went down between my father and I while she was on the balcony.
Lily didn’t push me into telling her about it. Now that I’m ready to process what happened, I’m sure no one will be more receptive than her.
