“Hey. Mae. What was the last song on Jesus’s death party playlist? The one you said was rude, that you never play.”
Mae blinked awake.
“Can you reach my sweater? I think I’m ready to play it now.”
Dell stretched to reach the cardigan. She fished her phone out of its pocket, navigated to Spotify.
She placed the phone on the floor next to them. Dell let out a breath as the opening strings of Judy Garland’s “Over the Rainbow” swelled through the room.
“Oh,” he said into her hair.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
And she cried when Judy started singing, as one was wont to do when listening to this song. As one was wont to do when they’d been able to love very special people. When they’d been able to live through so many special seasons.
“I loved him,” she said into Dell’s chest. He rubbed her arm.
“I love you,” he said after a moment.
It felt, for a second, as if he was saying it to make Mae feel better. As if to balance out the hurt.
But maybe he was just saying it because the moment felt right. Because he wanted to. Because he meant it.
Love wasn’t a zero sum game. It wasn’t something to balance, to even scores. Mae would always love Jesus.
And she would always love Dell.
“I love you, too,” she replied.
And they lay on the floor of 12 Main Street, in the comfort of the other’s warmth and the sound of the ocean beyond the glass, until the song was through.
