Chapter 33 Tate
thirty-three
Tate
March
Inever thought I could be this happy.
I’m feeling more confident in my music and am getting more and more people who relate to me and my lyrics every day.
I have a boy who makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m actually enough for someone. That I don’t have to be someone I’m not to make sure other people are happy.
I didn’t even stress about coming home this weekend because I knew Fletcher would be coming down with me.
I also knew that my parents wouldn’t be here.
Which is always positive.
“There she is.” Fletcher’s eyes light up as he wanders over to me.
It’s not the ideal weather for a picnic; it’s a little on the chilly side. However, the snow is gone, and it’s starting to feel like Spring, so we thought, what the hell.
Or, I should say, Fletcher thought, 'What the hell?'
Even though you could say we’ve been on a lot of dates over the years, he told me he wanted to go on a real one. What better place to do that than in the place where we saw each other for the first time?
The giant oak tree is still here, and I always thought that’s what gave me my inspiration, but truthfully, I think it was always him.
The oak tree reminded me of him, so I could draw on that emotion whenever I was working on a new song.
“I did tell you I’d meet you out here, so it’d be kind of rude of me not to show up.”
He rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t disappear as he kisses the top of my head. He drops down beside me onto the picnic blanket, opening up the top of his basket and slowly pulling things out.
“You working on a new song?” His eyes scan my face as he continues to unload the basket.
“Maybe.”
“It is about me?” He smirks, freezing with one of the containers in his hand.
“Nope. Not even a little bit.”
“You’re such a liar.”
“They’re usually all about you,” I admit, looking down at my journal and letting my hair fall in front of my face to hide the rosy tint forming on my cheeks.
“All of them?” I hear the hint of smugness in his tone. “I didn’t realize you liked me that much.”
“Shut up.” I don’t look up at him, but I shove him back slightly with a push of his shoulder. “Just for that, I’m not going to write about you anymore.”
“How are you going to write if it’s not about your muse?” He reaches out and pokes my side.
“You’re not my muse.”
“I’m totally your muse.”
“Not even close.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if I found a song in there just titled Fletcher.”
“I did not name a song after you. Unless you want to count this one.”
I shift a little closer to Fletcher, pointing down at the title across the top of the page.
He cackles, throwing his head back before his eyes find the page again.
“I ditched you at a party once.” He lifts up a singular finger for emphasis. “One time.”
“And that one time landed you the title of Abandoner,” I argue.
“I came and apologized first thing the next day.”
“I finished the song that night.” I slam my journal shut. “I had a lot of feelings to get out. Honestly, if I didn’t write that song, our conversation that morning would’ve gone a lot differently.”
“Are any of the songs you’ve posted online ones about me?” His hand finds mine, and he interlaces our fingers before our eyes meet.
“Maybe. I was hoping that one day you might hear one of the songs, and it’d make you realize it’s always only ever been you, Fletch. From the moment I saw you from this very spot.”
“You know, I was listening to you play for hours. I was so mesmerized by your playing; I had never heard anything like it.”
“I remember.” I grin. “Because I marched over to your deck and told you it’s not polite to stare.”
“Even though I didn’t truly understand the concept of love, that moment is when I fell in love with you.
You might not have felt the same way, but you just seemed so sure of yourself.
You were strong, independent, and confident.
It was hard not to be mesmerized by you.
” His hand brushes across my cheek. “And I’ve been in love with you ever since. ”
“You know I didn’t mind that you were watching me play,” I admit. “I just wanted an excuse to come over here and introduce myself. It felt nice to feel like someone cared about me for once, Fletch. It felt nice to know my hard work wasn’t going unnoticed.”
It's a silly way to feel at six years old, but when you have parents who are practically ghosts in your home, having someone pay attention to you, even when they don’t have to, means a lot.
“Can I show you something?” I bite my lip, wondering if it’s a silly thing to show him, if showing him is going to be as embarrassing as I think it will be.
“Always.”
I scoot back just enough to show him the side of the oak tree where I carved FR with a heart around it.
He runs his fingers over it and then glances at me.
“When did you do this?”
“A couple of days after we met.” I laugh.
“My mom yelled at me for doing it, saying it was just some fleeting crush and it was stupid to carve it into a tree. But I don’t know, after that first day at your house, I just knew you were going to be one of the most important people in my life. I just didn’t know in what sense.”
“And now?”
“I can say that six-year-old Tate somehow knew the boy next door was going to be the love of her life and that this tree is just proof of that.” I press my lips to his in a soft and gentle kiss. “I love you, Fletcher. I always have, and I always will.”
He kisses me back.
“I love you, Tate. Then. Now. Always. And I can prove it.”
He pulls out his keys and finds the little pocketknife attachment, scooting closer to the tree and adding a plus sign and then TL under the FR in the heart.
He brushes off the excess tree bark, leaving our names perfectly etched into the side.
This tree was a significant part of the beginning of our journey, and now it will forever hold the story of us.