They’re off to find themselves now,
chasing the sun with wide eyes.
She’s watching too though,
watching them run,
their dreams rattling in their pockets.
So entranced by pretty sparks,
they don’t feel the burn until they’re ash.
Yes, we’re off to find ourselves. We’ll chase the sun, but we won’t let her burn us. Poems are just words, and words can be anything we want them to be. I’m going to write my own ending.
Pulling out my phone, I find his name.
Me: I’m sorry I missed your birthday. I won’t miss one again. Listen to me, Grumpy, you deserve this internship. You deserve everything. It’s okay to be happy.
I chew the inside of my cheek, my thumb still hovering above the keys.
Me: Next time, we’ll both be ready.
“Hey, Sunshine!” Kimmie’s voice filters up the stairs. “You coming down or what? We don’t have all night!”
My lips lift, and I set Joshua’s note on my desk, next to Mom’s sage. Then I turn and head down the stairs. My steps slow as voices travel to my ears. When I reach the bottom and find everyone lounging on the sofas, I stop, taking them in.
For a moment, time stands so still I wonder if I’m breathing. It’s déjà vu, and I’m back to the first night I ever joined them for dinner. Their movements lag in slow motion as I watch my dad, my family, pick through the cartons of Thai food on the coffee table. Even their bickering sounds the same. Except this time, their voices aren’t quite so distant. Someone’s laughter echoes around me, and I know immediately it’s Rebecca’s.
“Bluebell?” Like the flick of a switch, my dad’s face moves in front of mine with overwhelming clarity. His eyes soften. “You coming?”
I’m no longer an outsider looking in. I’m a part of it.
My necklace burns against my chest. “Yeah,” I whisper. And I take a step deeper into the room.
Blue
Two years later ...
HarperCollins!Holy crap!
A tap dance starts in my chest as I click the arrow at the bottom of my phone screen and continue reading the article. I’ve been following Joshua’s progress on the West Coast every step of the way, so I’ve seen his work contributed to The Huffington Post, The Daily Beast, and Munchies—already incredible accomplishments. But a publishing deal withtheHarperCollins? I can’t stop grinning as I read the title of his book set to release at the end of next year:Food: Promote Cognitive Health & Prevent Cognitive Impairment Through What You Eat.This has me proud on a whole new level.
Still, by the time I get to the bottom of the article, my smile’s already wilting. Everything I know is through stalking him online. It’s all surface level, and reading about it isn’t the same as living it with him. Bitterness seeps into my pores at the thought, clouding the happiness, and a pang of guilt stabs me for it. He’s only kept his promise—giving me time—and I can’t blame him for that.
But he’s not the only one who can keep a promise.
I haven’t missed a single birthday of his since that one two years ago. Maybe I haven’t been able to visit in person, but last year, I called in a cake order and had it delivered to his studio apartment. I also may have thought it’d be funny to mail him an anklet I wove with black and grey thread. He sent me back a single Post-it:It’s missing my favorite color: Blue. This year, I had another cake delivered, but I also hand-stitched the graphics on a black T-shirt I shipped too. On the front, it said,Always Grumpy, and on the back,Forever Blue.
“Shoot! Blue, quick! Grab that corner!” Amber’s voice snaps me from my thoughts.
“What?”
“The banner! Help me fix it before it flies away!”
My eyes widen as I spot the six-foot banner hanging halfway off our booth. Amber holds onto the half that’s flailing in the wind for dear life, trying to keep the hot summer breeze from snatching it away completely.
“Crap.” I grab the duct tape and race over, triple-sealing it this time.
