Chapter 49
Willow
The park
The parking lot
Deacon: Cruz just left.
Willow: Do either of you need medical attention?
Deacon: Negative. We managed not to use our fists.
Deacon: Thanks for making him come over.
Willow: Will you meet me here?
I sent a pin and glanced around the lush surroundings—it was a different park from the one we’d learned to ride bikes in and across town from where Gus escaped. I’d looked for somewhere new, somewhere bright and open and, most importantly, one that had a fountain.
I sat on the edge, took in a breath, and searched for “Drowning Girl” in the browser while I waited for Deacon to reply.
The wide variety of meme options featuring me in the fountain stared back at me, from the original viral video to one with a pretty solid joke about climate change deniers to ones in other languages I couldn’t understand.
I remembered my embarrassment when I realized that someone had filmed me getting dumped, remembered wanting to crawl into a hole and die twice—first because I thought my life was over without Spencer and again because everyone in the world could bear witness to it.
But now, looking at the image, and sitting next to the fountain, it was different.
I still was embarrassed and hoped no one recognized me, but it seemed further away, and I didn’t even attempt to pull my hair forward.
Instead, I clicked on the original video that had blown up.
I’d watched the video again and again, unable to look away, internalizing every word.
Maybe I was immature and it was silly to worry about what my mom would have thought, but after talking to Cruz, I watched it again.
I watched Spencer and me standing by the fountain where we’d first said I love you, where he’d told me he’d never leave me.
I watched my reaction, the crying and hysterics, with a cringey recollection but with a sense of empathy, too.
That breakup had happened on the anniversary of my mom’s accident, and he hadn’t remembered.
I’d been emotional all day and then that moment had been a tipping point.
I rested a palm on the fountain’s cool concrete ledge and kept watching as I grabbed for Spencer’s arm when he’d told me I needed to calm down, when he’d started to walk away, and I paused the video there.
I was curious how he’d looked when I grabbed him—I’d always been too caught up in the next frame where I went in the water, but I zoomed in and saw that he didn’t look at me at all.
He looked away when I touched him. I’d always given him so much credit for always being there, but in that moment, he’d looked away.
The dots were bouncing on Deacon’s text, and I toggled back to the browser window containing the video.
I touched my face on the video, wishing I could tell that version of myself how much better I deserved than a man who didn’t even look at me.
I hit play and watched myself fall into the fountain and flail before realizing I could sit up in the shallow water.
And I grinned. It was a little funny, and I wouldn’t wish on anyone the experience of being a meme, but I still backed out of the video and took a screenshot of the climate change denier one—it was good.
I scrolled through the other search results, pausing on the YouTube video that was the straw that finally sent me to Iowa. I tapped it.
“I’m no expert,” the host began, but I scrolled down through the comments instead of listening to him.
I paused on a comment I’d never read before, one asking: What happens to these people after they become viral memes? Someone had replied with, They probably always live in the shadow of it somehow. There were several responses to it, and one from someone named AirmanCupcakeWrangler caught my eye.
Comment: I don’t know how others move out of the shadow, but this one brings light wherever she goes, even if she doesn’t know it.
He’d posted a second one, adding, And OP is an expert on one thing, which is posting bullshit about other people because there’s nothing interesting in their own life.
I grinned, and what I knew now was a Deacon-related heartbeat took hold.
I closed the browser and looked around for Deacon—I’d assumed he was close by when I sent the pin, but maybe there was traffic.
Willow: Are you close by?
Deacon: I’m not coming to the park.
Willow: Are you breaking up with me? We’re not officially even a couple yet.
Deacon: We’re not?
Deacon: Do you want to be my girlfriend?
Willow: Yes.
Deacon: Good. I love you.
Deacon: But I’m still not coming to the park.
Deacon: No more re-dos.
I grinned and tucked the phone away in my cross-body bag before standing.
The sunlight dappled the surface of the fountain, and I sent out another bit of grace to my past self, sending it into the water with some idea it might reach her cosmically, but Deacon was right.
I was done with re-dos, too. It was time to start fresh.
I walked toward where I’d parked my bike near the parking lot, thumbing through my phone for a song to listen to on the ride home to meet Deacon, but when I looked up, his bike was parked next to mine. “You said you weren’t coming to the park.”
“I came to the parking lot,” he said, motioning around.
“Same difference.” I grinned at the helmet on his head and the knee pads, though he’d found dark gray ones and not my Barbie-inspired pair.
“Big difference,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “Now, a big question for you.”
I looked up into his brown eyes, flecks of gold catching the sunlight. “We love big questions.”
“We do.” He settled his hands at my waist, and it was almost like we were dancing under the clear blue sky. “What’s the significance of the park?”
“It’s where I wanted to re-do saying ‘I love you’ for the first time,” I said. “Thought the grass and the flowers and the water would make it romantic.”
He gave a slight head nod. “Well, we’ve got concrete, a Toyota Camry, and some kid dropped an ice cream cone over there, which is now covered in ants.”
“Good enough.” I slid my fingers through his hair and pulled his face down to mine. “I love you,” I said. “And I love how you’ve helped me love myself.”
“Hey, Low,” he said, our lips a breath apart. “Two more big questions.”
“Please don’t make an allusion to your penis right now.”
He laughed before dropping his lips to mine in a sweet kiss. “Then just one more big question.” His expression grew a bit more serious. “You won’t put your plans on hold for me, will you?”
I shook my head. “I thought I would, but I don’t want that for myself. I submitted my application.”
His smile widened. “Cruz told me. Said you added something to your epic personal statement. Will I get to read it?”
I nodded, grinning. “I changed the last paragraph.” And I held up my phone for him to read. I knew the words by heart and watched his expression as he scrolled.
This may look as if my interest in and commitment to studying Veterinary Medicine has wavered.
And if you made that assumption, you would be correct.
But it wasn’t my interest in the field that changed; it was my commitment to following my own dreams that wavered.
A variety of personal circumstances left me choosing others’ needs over my own commitment to become a veterinarian.
I don’t regret those years of uncertainty, because they brought me back to this moment, when I am certain I will excel in your Veterinary Medicine program.
I figured out how to commit to my own goals and to prioritize what matters most to me, which is succeeding in this field and making positive change.
This is the second veterinary school application I’ve prepared, and I can honestly say this re-do is a stronger application for a much more prepared and committed candidate.
“It’s submitted. Fingers crossed, but I’d still love for us to talk about what’s next for us both.”
“Good,” he said. “Me, too.”
“Any other big questions?”
“Can I now make an allusion to my penis?”
“No!” I said, trying to shove him away, despite the security of his firm grip.
“Fine,” he said. “Can I kiss you now?”
I nodded, grinning as his lips dropped to mine again. With Deacon, every kiss felt like it was the first time.