Chapter 35 We Are the Pages, the Words, the Poem #2
“You miss him. The last few days you’ve been nothing but a heap of sadness.
Whenever I saw you, you had bags underneath your eyes and baked-bean stains around your mouth.
Aria, dear. If you really want to be together again so bad one day, why not now?
Why wait, sweetheart? Life is too short when you’re sure. ”
Harper looks toward the sky and goes into a spin. The sight makes my heart skip a beat.
“No idea. Maybe to give the two of us a little time. I don’t know how I’m going to manage. To trust him, I mean. After everything that happened. At the moment, it just seems impossible.”
“Do you think it has to be this way? Don’t you think it’s time to let go of your fear? He’ll help you to build that trust back up. You’d be much better at it together than time could ever be on its own.”
In one graceful movement, Harper pushes off her skate edge and leaps. Her landing is a bit wobbly, but she lands it all the same. But the way her eyes light up at this little thing, how happy it makes her, knocks me out. How simple it can be.
“I don’t know. What I do know is that letting him go doesn’t feel right. It feels like I’m giving up. As if I were taking the easy way out, not wanting to fight. As if I was thinking that I was just too weak, even though I know I’m strong.”
Mom cranes her neck back to follow Harper’s movements as she makes another jump.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Things could go on without Wyatt. Up until now, I was afraid to say that; I was afraid to even admit it, but…isn’t owning the fact that I want to fight for what I love a sign of strength?”
“Not just strength, Aria, but courage. Resolve. And that your heart is too big to keep for yourself alone.”
A lot happens in this second; it’s a charged moment of life, one of the rare kind that allows my senses to perceive so much.
All at once. I feel all my hair standing on end.
It’s so intense. It’s like I can sense every single one of them.
Scents in my nose—double and triple strong—of snow and Christmas, magic and fir trees, and home.
The taste of mulled wine in my mouth—tart but sweet, cinnamon and vanilla, and sugar and orange.
There is the melody of the song, the sounds that get under my skin, the astonished sounds of others admiring my best friend, and the cheerful sounds of people chatting.
And finally there’s Harper, gripping her skate with her fingers, stretching her leg and spinning fast, fast, faster, a cream-colored blur accompanied by golden lights reflecting off the ice beneath her, a sight that embodies the beauty of this moment.
A new feeling tingles inside me, a strange one I am unfamiliar with.
I think it’s acceptance. I have accepted that Wyatt and I are no longer who we used to be; I have accepted that what happened happened and that nothing can change the past. We don’t have to pick up where we left off.
We can start again without knowing where it will take us.
How we want to shape the present and what we want to feel in the here and now is up to us—happiness or sadness, ecstasy or darkness.
Whatever the future holds, wherever my decisions will take me…
I am Aria Moore. Chaotic, loving, my cupboards full of no-point cups, and a predilection for cake.
I am Aria Moore, and I love who I am, an individual in the world, happy and full of life. But to be honest?
This life should be with Wyatt. It’s more beautiful with him in it. More worth living. Warmer. More loving. More exciting. Funnier. More poetic.
I alone have the power to decide how I want to shape my life, and I want to make my life with Wyatt. I want to do everything with him.
Harper lands. She opens her eyes. Sees me. Sees that I’m there, that I believe in her, that I saw how she believed in herself right before attempting this jump that’s so tough for her.
She laughs. A quiet laugh, true, but to me it’s loud because it’s the only thing I hear.
Pure and bright and free, and that takes away the last bit of doubt, the last bit of uncertainty.
Because it reminds me of how I sound every time Wyatt makes me laugh, whenever he says something that doesn’t make any sense at all but still makes me smile; he makes sure that the butterfly flies.
I hand Mom her cup back. “I’ve got to find him.”
Mom’s eyes dig into mine, green on green. “Then get going, Aria. Go.”
I nod. I frantically search the square, but not for him. I knew he wasn’t here upon arriving.
He’s not here, but his sister is. Camila is munching on some almonds while watching Vaughn roll through the snow in his full-body costume, surrounded by dancing snowflake children.
“Camila!” Huffing and puffing, I tap her on the shoulder. A few almonds hit the snow as she starts.
“God, Aria. You scared me.”
“Where’s Wyatt?”
“Wyatt?”
“Yeah!”
“Why?”
I become impatient, inhale haltingly, but the air doesn’t reach my lungs quickly enough, so I end up breathing even more frantically. “I’ve got to tell him something.”
“Aria.” Her face turns sympathetic. “He got the point.”
“What point?” She doesn’t answer, so I repeat my question—this time hysterically—because of course I know what she means. I just don’t want to hear it. But I have to because our heads are weird sometimes—really weird.
“That it’s over. He made a mistake, unconsciously, sure.
But he sees that now. Wyatt has understood that he needs to let you go.
He regrets what he did, regrets it hard, but he can live with it now.
He’s moving on, Aria; he’s accepted that at this point.
I still love you like a sister, but, please, please leave him alone.
I can’t handle seeing him suffering like this. ”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t get it. You don’t want him but won’t leave him alone.”
“Where is he?”
When she presses her lips together and her expression takes on a harder tone, I see that I won’t be getting any farther.
I rub my gloved hand across my face and blink so as to be able to look into her eyes better.
“Listen. I know that you don’t believe me, but I want to save what we had.
Really. And this time conclusively, me and him like before, but new, and everything. ”
Camila holds her breath before shakily letting it back out. “If you hurt him again, I’m never going to forgive you.”
“I wouldn’t forgive myself, Cam.”
She hesitates. She looks at me for a moment, then turns and watches the dancing children.
And then she sighs. “He’s at the airport.”
“At the airport?”
“He got an offer from the Seattle Kraken. They want him. He’s flying out there to sign the contract.”
Her words break over me like an avalanche.
“What?”
Camila doesn’t respond; she just looks at me, and that makes everything worse, more real. “But… What about…your house? You?”
“He’s looking for something new for the two of us out there.”
“Something new?” My head simply will not accept the idea of Wyatt leaving Aspen, of starting over somewhere new. Aspen without the Lopezes is like… I don’t know. It just doesn’t work. It doesn’t fit.
Camila digs her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “If you want to talk to him, you better do it now. Drive out to the airport. Otherwise it’ll be too late.”
My mouth moves to speak, but no sound comes out; my eyes are like saucers. I blink.
Once.
Twice.
And then I start running.
I run like I’ve never run before, past Vaughn, past the children, past Paisley, Gwendolyn, Levi, Aaron, and Knox, who look at me confusedly, on and on, more and more quickly.
My breath’s a rattle by the time I make it to my car, rip open the door, and get moving.
The snow whirls as I make a sudden turn past Wyatt’s house.
I take Buttermilk Mountain Avenue far too quickly—right, left, left, right.
My fingers hurt because I’m using my blinker more than I need to.
Wyatt’s no-point cup is spinning around on its string like it’s cheering me on, Quicker, Aria! Quicker!
If I take the highway, I’ll be at the airport in ten minutes—another benefit to living in our little town. Racing down the road, I tap my index finger against the steering wheel continually. The radio’s making me nervous. I turn it off, and then, finally, I park.
I run through the carpeted lobby, dodging tourists—some just arriving and some leaving. “Sorry, sorry, thanks,” stretching out my neck on the lookout for a big guy, quite possibly in a baseball hat.
I look around everywhere, turn in circles, and search every inch of the lobby, glance at every one of the countless heads, but he’s not there.
Cursing, I dig my phone out of my pocket; it takes me three attempts to unlock it.
My fingers are shaking so much, but then I look for his number, unblock it, call…
Voicemail. The veins in my jugular are pounding. I look at the departures board. And there it is. White type against a blue background.
Seattle—boarding.
One second—doubt.
Two seconds—too late.
Three seconds—I’m going to lose him.
Four seconds—I’m not going to let that happen.
Five seconds—the butterfly’s wings are moving. I’m not giving up. There’s got to be a way. There’s got to.
And then I see her. There, behind the counter in the departures hall, eyes staring at the computer screen.
Emma Jones, an old high school friend. My face burns as I run across the lobby toward her.
I edge past the long line, getting angry stares, but I don’t care.
I push my way to the head of the line and step in front of the person who’s just about to go to her.
“Hey!” a guy in a chic Burberry coat hisses.
I shoot him an apologetic glance before my hands land on the countertop more powerfully than intended. “Emma!”
She starts so violently that she puts a hand to her chest. “God, Aria! Did you ever scare me!”
“I need your help.”
“Calm down a sec. Did something happen?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, Wyatt.”
“What about him?”