Ignoring the concern for his safety, he lets me have it. “Back in the day, you used to lay yourself bare all the time. You wanted to be vulnerable with those watching you because you wanted to show them the highs and the lows of the industry. You wanted to be a guiding light forkids who aspired to be like you, and that meant you had to be willing to share the darkest parts of yourself. I think I need to understand why you stopped doing that in the first place to help you figure out how to get back there.”
Was I naïve to think I could do that? That I could make a difference for the ones after me? “I’ve changed,” I whisper.
“And that’s fine,” he says without missing a beat. “But some things you’ve changed because you evolved. Others you changed because something or someone made you.”
Many somethings. Many someones. “I … I …” The words are right on the tip of my tongue, but when I try to push them out, they get stuck.
“It’s okay,” he rushes to say. “You don’t have to tell me. But you do have to acknowledge what it is.”
Something about his reassurance pries the words from my lips. “I don’t know how to be soft. Every time I’ve tried, I’ve just ended up with another jagged edge.”
The silence on the other end of the line doesn’t bother me this time. I appreciate him taking the time to consider my words and not rushing to comfort me. I don’t need comfort, I need reality. I need to know if I’m broken.
“The thing about jagged edges is, they’re not a sign of weakness. They’re a show of strength, a battle scar to prove you survived. I think true beauty lies in those jagged edges, but if you want to smooth them out, all you need is a little sandpaper.”
“A little sandpaper.” I flip the words over in my mind. “Where do you get this stuff?”
His voice is a hairsbreadth above a whisper when he responds, but his tone is so sure it leaves no room for argument. “I just say what I feel.”
“What’s that like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Speaking freely all the time.” I’m very good about speaking what’s on my mind, but speaking what’s on my heart is a luxury I’ve long forgotten.
“I wouldn’t say all the time. There’s a lot of things on my heart right now that I’m not saying.”
Though I can’t see him, I feel him looking right through me. I meant what I said about wanting us to be friends, but the kind of friends who keep things lighthearted and easy, not the kind who push past pretty lies to uncover ugly truths. Not the “sandpaper” level of friends.
Sandpaper. I know I have that in my life. My parents, Janelle, Evie, and even Amerie—all of them would take me into their arms and grind my rough edges into dust. The logical part of my brain knows this, but there’s this other part that’s screaming,What if it’s too much?
What if smoothing out the rough edges I’ve gained takes more than what my sandpaper can give?
What if loving me becomes a burden?
Is that how Tanya felt? Like she couldn’t unburden herself of her truths until after she died for fear of becoming the weight of the world on someone else’s shoulder?
Before I can even process my own thoughts, I release the words into the abyss. “Micah? I think it’s time to open the envelope.”
Chapter Ten
Micah
“Art imitates life. You’ll find my life where you find my art.” —Tanya
THE CRISP FALL AIR DANCES ACROSS MY FACE ASILEANmy head back against the tombstone.
“I hope you two are up there having a time.”
Chi Chi was the person I confided in the most, so sometimes when I need to talk something out, I visit her here. She taught me to go against the grain, and so though it might seem corny to some, I don’t shy away from what brings me comfort. Sitting here and being able to run my hands along her name and sink my hands into the grass surrounding her does that. I know she’s not here anymore. I know all that’s left in that grave are a pile of bones, but I think when I come here, that’s when she knows I really need her. It’s where I can feel our connection.
“I don’t know what to do, Chi Chi. I haven’t felt this off balance since I lost you. It hurts. And I’m trying not to let that hurt define me like I did last time, but it feels impossible. And then there’s Dani. You remember me telling you about her? She’s back. It feels like I finally have another chance, but we’re both sodifferent now. She clearly doesn’t want to take another chance, so I don’t know why I can’t let it go—why I can’t let her go.” I shouldn’t even be thinking about Dani right now, not in that way.
Our sole purpose of coming together should be honoring Tanya, not trying to rekindle a flame that long ago burned out, but Dani is branded on my skin, my heart, and my soul. I can’t forget her any easier than I can forget how to breathe, and I don’t know what to do with that.
I run my hands along the blades of grass. “Tell Tanya she’s on my shit list for putting us in this situation.” I can practically hear Tanya’s response in my head:Tell him I’ll pass him the toilet paper.
The wind serves as my only response from Chi Chi, and the chime on my phone reminds me that I have to get to the gallery.
