Cecily
P.S. Call me you nut!
I wiped my eyes and nose with a wad of tissues I’d tucked into my bra. I squeaked when the phone in my pocket rang.
Cecily’s name graced the screen, and I nearly broke a finger answering so fast.
“Finally!” she said. “I miss you. How are you? Tell me everything. I’m trying to respond to all your letters, but work has been intense, so I’m behind.”
“I miss you too,” I said, voice cracking as tears welled and began to fall.
“Are you crying?” She gasped. “Is it the handyman? I can be there in an hour. If he’s done something to hurt you, I can make it in forty-five minutes.”
“No,” I said, waving a hand she couldn’t see. “It’s not him. Not really. Amherst Emma is just an emotional mess.”
“I’m not sure I like you speaking about yourself in third person,” she said. “I’d say this whole trip has pushed you over the edge, but it’s more likely this is the first time you’ve let yourself feel anything otherthan busy in a really long while. Brace yourself. You might’ve opened the floodgates.”
I thought something similar not so long ago. “Great.”
“Hey. Letting yourself feel things is good,” she said. “You’re not hiding behind checklists and the store anymore. All that time alone probably has you paying attention to yourself, your thoughts, and your needs for a change. That can be hard. You can always come home if this isn’t what you wanted. You call the shots.”
I tensed but couldn’t speak. I didn’t love the way things were going in Amherst, but I wasn’t ready to return to Willow Bend.
“Just remember,” she encouraged. “You’re hurting, and you have a huge support system here. Family, friends, the store, the community. No one will care or judge you for coming home early. We’ll just be glad you’re back.”
I took a seat beneath a tree and pulled up a handful of grass. “Thanks for saying that, but I have to see this through.”
“Are you sure?”
A couple I recognized from class waved as they crossed the sidewalk at the end of the lane. “Morning, Emma.”
I waved and smiled, hoping I was too far away from the street for them to see my puffy, red eyes and tearstained cheeks.
“Who was that?” Cecily asked.
“Pam and Jack. They came to one of the letter-writing classes on a date. They own an alpaca farm outside town.”
Before Cecily could comment, a woman jogging by called out as well. “Hi, Emma!”
“Hi, Kate,” I called. “Kate works at the café where I have lunch sometimes,” I explained to Cecily. “My friend Daisy introduced us.”
Cecily hummed, the small thoughtful sound she often made when coming to an internal conclusion. “Sounds like you’ve found a community there too.”
I let the warmth of that truth settle over me. “I have.” And for a moment, I imagined what life might be like if I stayed in Amherst long term.
“Well, that changes things,” Cecily said. “I didn’t like the idea of you in that big house, all alone and sad. But I guess you aren’t alone. So—you’re staying?”
I nodded absently, still caught in the dream of laying down roots for a fresh start. “Yeah.”
If I didn’t live in Willow Bend with my family, would our time spent together during visits be more enjoyable? Would the moments mean more? I could still come home on Saturdays for family dinner. Though I’d be tempted to get season tickets to UMass if I lived right down the street.
“I’m still trying to get enough time off work for a proper visit. Until I do, you need to call me sometimes. Hang on, I’m sending you something.”
My phone dinged with a text message.
“That’s my work schedule. The letters are fine, and texts are, too, but I like to hear your voice and know you’re okay.”
“I wish I could hug you.”
