This may overshoot your interests, Henry, but I want you to know that my research is worthwhile and could help the environment on an expansive scale.I want you to be proud of me.
I gasp a little.Iamproud of her—a feeling I wish I’d had when we were together.I wish I’d loved her boldly then, when I had the chance.
I flip to the last entry and find something different than the rest—an ink drawing of her, diving into the ocean.A vague representation of the ship looms behind her on the surface.She’s kicking her feet, like she’s trying to go deeper, trying to get away.
There is no note to me this time.Instead, she writes:
I can’t accept what I cannot change.
A memory stirs.“You must accept what you cannot change,”her father said to her, his hand gently on her arm to calm her.
What was it?
The physical fitness test in sixth grade, I remember suddenly.We had to run a mile in gym class.I had a medical excuse to sit it out, but I didn’t want to.I was slight, wore glasses, and had asthma—I was teased enough already.
Though out of breath by the first lap, I pushed on, despite my constricted lungs.That is, until Venus huffed, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the woods, where we found a small creek and a downed tree.“Rest and breathe,”she ordered.“Your lungs aren’t prepared for that, Henry.”
“I know,”I gasped,“but I want them to be.”
“Gym class won’t achieve that for you.Train on a regular, routine basis.Take on a sport.Basketball would suit you.”
“You think I can play basketball?”I questioned with awe.
“You can do anything, Henry.Building your endurance might be challenging at first, but you can train your body just like anyone else.Your lungs will thank you for it.I’ll help if you want.”
Her help didn’t happen because she got in trouble.Within an hour of our escape, we were in the principal’s office with our parents.
“It’s an illogical test, anyway, rating our unique bodies and physical abilities on the same scale,”she’d argued.“Henry is asthmatic.He shouldn’t be judged on the same?—”
“Venus, stop being difficult,”Principal Hecker admonished.“You know the rules.You broke them.And you put a fellow student at risk.”
“At risk of what?Catching his breath?”she demanded.
That’s when her father put his hand on her arm and said,“You must accept what you cannot change.”
In the end, Venus received a month of after-school detention.I joined the basketball team and started running every day to build my endurance.
My fingers trace her image on the rumpled paper, latching on to hope again.She left, but she never left me.Her dad’s right—she believes we don’t want her.
“What are you doing?”
Her tone and suddenness startle me.The notebook falls onto the desk.I twist in the chair to face her.She sits upright on the bed, holding a sheet across her chest, hair wild, and green eyes puffy and bothered.
“You used to let me see your field journals,” I say with a weak smile, suddenly aware that I’ve overstepped.“I thought I’d take a peek at your recent adventures.”
She chews the inside of her bottom lip.“You should’ve asked first.”
“You’re right.I’m sorry.”I return to bed and curl close, pulling her toward me, but she remains upright and covered.“Come here.Kiss me.”
“You should go, Henry.”
“It’s early,” I counter, kissing her tattoos up her arm.“It’s Sunday.Olly doesn’t get home until later.We have time.”
She stays quiet, staring into the blankets between us like there’s a universe there.I sit up, sliding her hair away from her neck and planting soft kisses along her collarbone.
When she doesn’t respond, I whisper, “Remember that time you saved me from the mile run?I was so stubborn about it, but you stayed by my side.I never told you thank?—”
“Henry.”My name erupts from her lips with stern finality.
