“It’sstillreal love,” she says, which makes my chest tighten. She places a hand over her heart. “I feel it here—a squeeze, a tenderness, a longing. It never goes away.”
“Do you think it’d be easier if you could stop loving him?”
“No. Would it be easier for you?”
“No,” I say, but my tone is unconvincing. Because honestly, sometimes I feel like a husk of a person, a milky-eyed zombie wandering a dark forest, capable only of missing my brother.
Audrey sighs, letting the curl she twisted into her hair fall to her shoulder. “Okay, maybe every once in a while, on particularly rough days, I toy with the idea of forgetting because, yeah, maybe itwouldbe easier. But easier isn’t always better. I don’t ever want tonotremember Nick or the way he made me feel, like I was something special—like I waseverything special. Besides, Janie deserves two parents who love each other, even if one’s only here in spirit.”
I contemplate this, wishing I were as strong as my sister-in-law. “If you could go back and start over,” I say, “but with the knowledge that Nicky would die young… would you let yourself fall in love with him?”
She gives me a sad smile—thesaddestsmile. “A million times.”
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
—Rumi
elise
The following morning, Bambi and I make our walk to the beach. I’ve got my camera and she’s got her ball, and if I had to guess, I’d say she’s as eager as I am. As soon as we hear the sound of crashing waves, I sweep my surroundings for movement, a flash of color, a shock of dark hair.
I think,Please be here.
And then I see him, sitting at the picnic table I’ve started to think of as ours, writing in his notebook. Bambi’s spotted him, too, and she’s straining against her leash in an effort to get to him. She lets out an impatient whine, and he lifts his head, catching sight of us. His features go immediately slack, his eyes devastatingly impassive.
Indifference. It’s what I deserve.
I raise my hand in a lame little wave, and it’s as if a pail of warm relief splashes over him.
I feel it, too.
He stands, pockets his notebook and pen, and strides on long legs toward Bambi and me. As soon as he’s in her ambush zone, she dropsher ball and lets out a yowl, pulling at her leash. Mati bends to pet her head, and her tail swishes accordingly.
“Elise,” he says in greeting, straightening to his full height. “Going for a walk?”
I nod because my throat is suddenly too dry for conversation.
“I thought I might see you yesterday.” He watches the toe of his shoe scuff the dirt, like he’s worried about how his admission will be received. “Or the day before.”
I swallow, mustering some poise. “I found the note you left.”
“Ah. Is that why you’re looking at me like I’m dangerous?”
I smile. “Not dangerous. Unpredictable. That was ballsy, the way you left it sitting out. What if the wind had taken it?”
He gives me a long, charged look, then says, “The wind has taken me.”
I stand, rootless, staring at him with a feeling not unlike reverence.
“Do you know how we saywindat home?”
I shake my head.
“Baad.” His voice is low and airy, like his very breath is a breeze.
“Baad,” I repeat. “What language is that?”
