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January 1, 2046
Hallee
I like your books.
Not, I love you. Not, you love me. My last words, a final battle for us. Yesterday, our hands recognized each other, holding on tight as we braced for the impact of the fall.
Let me go , I asked him on that blanket in the park.
I’ve got you , he assured, and we plummeted over the cliffside, never looking back. Not once did he falter in his promise to me.
Until now.
His mind failed him and his body followed, leaving me alone to shatter on the ground. Here I lie, utterly broken without his peace to fight off the swelling darkness.
Don’t let me go , I pleaded last night. Isn’t it funny how time changes things?
This morning, I could’ve told him. Could’ve explained that against all odds, we’ve found each other time and time again and fallen in love in a hundred different ways. I could’ve begged and pleaded for him to remember the life we’ve built over the last four years. Could’ve screamed that he’s a proud firefighter, he likes his coffee hot but never finishes the last sip because it’s too lukewarm, can’t sleep unless his feet are under the covers, feels happiest in the sun, avoids Main Street because of the cracked sidewalk. Could’ve reminded him that he’s superstitious, has never questioned the circle of life, has a scar on his left side, and promised to hold me forever through the trap of this life.
For hours, I could’ve desperately clung to our past lives and laid my heart on the chopping block. Would it have been worth it?
Words wouldn’t collect his emotions and restore his mind of the love we share. They’d only fall flat coming from a stranger.
That is all I am to him now.
A radiant stranger.
He would’ve misunderstood, and that would’ve been the worst part, so I accepted his first, second, and third apologies for not remembering his one-night stand. He tried to comfort me as I fell apart in front of him, but I felt his discomfort when he shifted. Clinging to him so tightly was inexplicable. He let go of a stranger, but I let go of my whole heart.
As I was forced to settle with the ghost of him holding me, the invisible tether joining his soul to mine stretched until it hurt. Not the good kind of hurt, where the stretch is helping, but the bad kind, where it could snap your hamstring and your life would never be the same.
Will my life ever be the same?
Without him, my entire world caved in, and I averted my watering eyes as the imbalance of our emotions hung in the air. There was no sane explanation for such a drastic reaction to a one-night stand. There was no sane explanation for any of this mess.
The game has been reset, and it’s an impossible one to win. With everything else I’ve remembered, I’ve forgotten how to pretend.
Years and years of the cat-and-mouse game have all led to the same outcome—me loving him deeply. The evidence is written all over my scarred heart.
As his gaze held mine, he cocked his head to the side. Our silent communication shouldn’t come for at least another three dates, so I stared and acted as if I didn’t understand that he was asking me if I was okay.
Mrs. Stand and Stare, at your service.
I waited for his eyes to flicker with a sense of knowing, for him to break the silence. I waited . . .
And waited . . .
And waited . . .
I will love every part of you, forever , I vowed.
Including the part that forgets.
This dance we’ve been in of losing and finding, falling and loving, mending and breaking, has swept me away, and I’ll never stop spinning in the hope that he’ll remember me. For the rest of my life, I will find him again. I’ll fight for us, delicately weaving our paths back together in a natural cadence—building us a story that will withstand the hardship of this life. He will fall in love time and time again like the tides of the sea, and I will follow his rise and fall by meeting him where he is each year.
I will smile at him in passing and introduce myself like a stranger. Recognize me, please , my eyes will beg. I’ll playfully flirt as if it’s the very first time, shyly agree to a date like it’s our first, and when he dares to hold my hand, I’ll act as if his body isn’t already my safest place. I’ll desperately hold onto the highs of summer to carry me through the lows of the repeating new year. My love for him will not fade, will not falter, and I will never find another.
His ghost is walking with me as I visit our very own cemetery. Headstones mark our memories laid to rest.
Here lies the park . . . the wildflowers . . . The Marmotte.
Here lies the apartment . . . the rooftop . . . the wedding.
The secret society of sunflowers—that one hurts the most. The fresh dirt blows into my eyes and blinds me to the rest of the visions, like Dean was blinded to us.
Useless , a degrading voice swarms my grief, dragging me down to the bottom of the ocean. I think I’ll die down here. It’ll be good if I do.
Foolish.
Wait, was that voice—me?
It’s been so long since I’ve heard it, it sounds like a foreign language. Dean talked to me kindly, so I talked to me kindly too, but without his protective presence, my light has been blown out. Maybe I’m not the sunshine, but the fragile flame of a candle.
Months of silence have prepared the meanest part of me for its return attack, launched at my most vulnerable point. Foolish is right. I was so foolish to assume that healing could come from anywhere except myself.
What am I now?
Arrows fly through the sky, aimed at my deepest insecurities. The faster I walk, the more it looks like the sun has set the pine needles on fire. Where is my firefighter? Don’t pine needles burn the fastest? I guess I burn the fastest too.
What did my love amount to?
It’s nothing, and I am nothing. I’m worthless, insignificant.
I’ve failed. I’ve failed. I’ve failed.
The brutal words whip into my skin. How could I be so stupid? Nothing I’ve done has made a difference. Even my greatest efforts didn’t change our heartbreaking end. Wanting something enough doesn’t mean it will happen.
Dean’s compassionate words echo in my mind, racing to the front line for me. There are many ways to matter , he’d said. You matter.
If I mattered, he would’ve remembered me.
My mind fights against his comfort and is met step for step. Our contrasting statements clash like bone striking bone.
I know you, Hal.
I’m a stranger to him.
I love you.
I’m not enough, not enough, not enough.
Come on, Sunshine. You carry all of the light you need.
His words lift my chin like his hands used to as his love surrounds me like a shadow, emphasizing the power of my light. Can it hold me up while I fight against the rising tide?
You be good, you hear me? Hudson’s voice sails directly for me, carrying Matt’s along with it. Hold the line, Hal.
Yes—hold the line.
This cruel melody is not the tune that will play over me. My forehead tenses, recalling and longing for the familiar touch of my friends. They will not fight alone on the front line. Dean loved me deeply—they all did—and I’m better because of it. The Gift doesn’t get to take me, too. It doesn’t get to reset my love for myself. It’s true, all I have left is me, but waging battle is worth it to save the girl brave enough to dream. I will not be diminished into a broken reverie. I am worth fighting for.
You matter , Dean had said.
I matter. Didn’t believe him then, but I do now. My own words become powerful weapons and I load the next shot, aiming it directly at the darkness.
I haven’t failed. The reverberations of my love will still be felt.
Pull back, and release.
He has known a great love because of me.
Release.
My friends have been loved deeply because of me.
Release.
My walking pace quickens as my mental strength builds. Resistance has turned the tides of the battle.
I have a purpose.
Release.
I will recover what was lost.
I am loved. Unbreakable. Significant.
Release. Release. Release.
I am enough.
That’s my girl.
I am not alone.
I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Hal.
Dean’s voice surrounds me, replacing my guards of self-defense.
“I love you,” I whisper to the wind.
I love you.
His words are my only companion as I walk home to introduce myself to Marlowe and Avery.