Britney: bring me back some cheese!
Macey: Britney you’re lactose intolerant
Britney: cheese is worth the sacrifice
Kira
Sometimes I saw life as a string of random moments—no pattern, no purpose, just chaos stitched together by time. Other days, I couldn’t ignore how certain events aligned too perfectly to be pure chance. Like maybe the universe was less random than I gave it credit for. Maybe some moments weren’taccidents at all but quiet nudges that happened one after the other for a reason.
Today felt like one of those days.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. There must be an unspoken rule that economy seats must be hard enough to convince you to splurge on business class on the next flight. Unfortunately for the airline’s pockets and my ass, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.
It had been a few months since I’d last seen my parents. I had meant to visit sooner, especially after Dad’s irregular heartbeat diagnosis. He was fine overall, and I spoke with him regularly, but things like that made me realize how little time we had. How important it was to cherish the moments we still had to spend together.
Not that I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Mom, too, but there was always something more with her. An extra step I had to take to impress her. Another step in my makeup routine to get the compliment. A promotion to make her proud. It was always about getting to the next level.
What my mother didn’t realize was that I was more than happy staying where I was. I didn’t need to get to the next level in life in order to be successful. I’d seen too many people waste their time and energy, thinking something better would be on the other side, only to realize they’d brought their problems with them.
No matter where you go, you’ll still be yourself. All insecurities and thoughts included.
I would know. Landon and I had reconnected two months ago, and even though things in my life were going through dramatic changes, the core of my issues remained. Landon and I had messed things up once. Who was to say we wouldn’t do it again?
As if last night’s argument with him wasn’t bad enough—with him literally accusing my mother of interfering with our relationship—I forced myself to replay it in my head over and over as I flew to my parents’ house in Wisconsin. By pure coincidence, I already had a trip planned to visit. I needed their help with my second piece for the residency application.
My phone buzzed with a text. The airline’s seats might be uncomfortable, but at least they had free Wi-Fi.
Dad: Dear little tree ur mom & I r so excited to see u soon! Mom wants to hear about the job but I want to hear about the art program ur applying to. Love, Dad
My mother and I had reminded him so many times that texts weren’t charged by character count, so he could spell outyouandare. But despite the fact he thought he was paying extra pennies for each letter, he never failed to start a text withdear little treeand end it withlove, Dad.
He started calling melittle treewhen I was a little girl. It was a reminder that you only needed to be rooted to yourself, not a place, to grow. He encouraged me to take up space like a tree:“Grow slowly for yourself until one day, everyone notices.”
I wrote back quickly, sending him my love and telling him I’d see him soon. I loved my parents and was excited to see them.
So why did my stomach feel like it was trying to tie itself in knots?
I stared out the window at nothing, unable to stop thinking about the rooftop. About Landon. About what he said.
The letter.
The words kept ringing in my ears, over and over. “You blocked my number…so I wrote you a whole letter.”
I wanted to believe he was lying. That would’ve been easier and cleaner. I could protect my anger like a precious thing, keepthe sharp edges intact. But the look on his face when he said it—the confusion, the ache—it didn’t feel like a lie.
I’m sorry.The two words written on paper, in Landon’s familiar scrawl.
But what if there had been more?
My hands curled into fists in my lap. I didn’t want to accuse my mom of something so awful. She was complicated, sure. Protective. Controlling, sometimes. But this? Hiding a letter from me? It seemed far too dramatic.
It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d tried to steer me away from Landon. I used to think it was because she didn’t understand him. Now I wasn’t so sure she ever tried to.
Would she have read it? Made a decision on my behalf? Thought she was sparing me heartbreak? Or worse, thought he wasn’t worth the second chance?
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted metal. The thought burned in my chest.
I wasn’t sure what the truth was. Maybe this was just Landon rewriting history to ease his guilt. Still, I had to figure it out. Even if it broke something open that I couldn’t put back together.
