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All my love,
Harpy
I root around in the back of my camera bag for a tissue and find a yellow padded envelope. Oh great, what fresh hell is this? It’s sealed and in his handwriting it says.
To My Kat -
read if you want but you can also burn this.
Your call - Zane
I most certainly will not be reading and burning is imminent. That’s not happening. Like ever. It’s something so important he needed pen and paper, not pixels. I shove the envelope back in the bag and I set off to see what Copenhagen has to say in the beautiful tilted light that has nothing to do with me, and an envelope that’s going to say things that either destroy me or destroy me. If he loves me, it will flatten me because I left and if he doesn’t, I’m not sure I’ll ever need that confirmation in writing.
I start taking pictures of everything because the only place I feel whole and complete is behind my camera. I know what I’m doing, it’s more than a feeling, it’s unleashing all the things I kept buried for no good reason, except fear.
The buildings are lit like a fairy world. The vibrant colors making me forget myself and enjoy the moment. There’s a mist falling over them that gives the lights a halo effect.
Copenhagen’s story of light continues in the dusk. I move past my ego and hurt and welcome inspiration. I climb on statue bases to make sure I’m getting the story right. I don’t want to bear false witness to what the city’s trying to communicate. I wander around until my father beckons me for dinner.
On my walk to the restaurant, my mind’s too tired to shield myself from thoughts of him. But right now they’re sweet. I want to stay cuddled up in the soft moments, but the cold reality pulls the covers off.
After we eat I’m sitting up in bed sending off my photos to Ginny. He hasn’t written. Not a text or a post, just that damn envelope.
And the text I’m shocked didn’t come sooner. She said very little when I told her. She simply gave me a weak hug and walked away.
MOM: I don’t claim to understand this but it worries me. Right now your wedding doesn’t matter, only you and Zane. This was good for you and why are you jumping away from it? Your father says you’re doing alright, but I wish you’d tell me. And I wish you’d talk to Zane. Birdie said he’s a zombie. This doesn’t add up, someday you’ll let me in on all of this because my dear girl, I see you more than you think. I always have.
KAT: I’m alright
MOM: Liar.
KAT: True - But I will be
He’s a zombie. I hold my heart and open the blog.
Copenhagen
Z
My clothes still smell like your townhouse. Your shirt smells like you. I feel like they’re a bit of armor against the unknown. Light plays hide and seek here, like your eyes. I haven’t read them. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how to miss you. It hurts too much and I don’t know if I’m allowed to miss you. Still looking for answers but I feel as if all the questions have changed.
Let me know you’re ok, please. And if Jack’s ok.
-K
I pause for a long time staring at my words, second-guessing, wondering if I have the right to talk to him now and I push post and go to sleep.
There’s a jarring knock at my door. I pick up my phone immediately. He’s not been to the blog, texted or called. Only all the women in my life. He isn’t reading. I stand up and let my dad in the room.
“Ok, slugger. Your train is at 11 and I’m off to meet your mom.”
“What?” I kiss him on the cheek.
“All this traveling you inspired me, Kitten. I’ve always wanted to see Argentina.” My eyes nearly bug out of my head. My parents only ever travel to the same spots with very little deviation.
“And mom is good with a last-minute trip?”
“Call her. I love you but I won’t be your middle man. She loves you.”
