I can’t be here anymore, and that’s a fact. It’s not an emotional choice or an opinion or a want. It’s a need. I spin quickly and don’t bother looking for my mom as I make my way to the makeshift parking lot by the property gate. My mom’s car is unlocked, and so I sit in the passenger seat and allow myself two things:
Time.
And grace.
My knees bounce, rocking the car back and forth, and I don’t try to hide it. I cry, soft and silent. Thick tears stream down my face, and I let them sit for one minute. Two. Three. When I wipe them away, I see the darkened sky lit with bubbles of fire—the lanterns. It’s pathetic that I smile, that I think of Mrs. Preston up there in the sky, in heaven, knowing that her kids are thinking of her.
The partygoers are quiet as they watch the lanterns float to a new existence, and I breathe. Slowly. Quietly. And then I reach across the car and pull the lever to release the trunk. My luggage is still there, where it’s been since Mom picked me up from the airport. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know that I can’t stay here and I can’t stay with her. I take the luggage out of the trunk, and then, as quietly as I existed in this place all those years ago, I disappear the same way.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Leo
Before the crying and the yelling and the truth, there was everything.
There was you, a girl I’d been in love with since love was a choice, and you were naked and sitting on the edge of the bed. The morning sun filtered through the cracks of the blinds, and they made what parts of your irises I could see from your half-closed lids look like honey. Sweet.
Like you.
You were half asleep, and you asked me twice for the time. Your voice was rough from lack of use, but it was still soft, pure, perfect.
Like you.
I took my time dressing you, taking your ankles in my hands and slipping on your shorts, and when your hands landed on my shoulders to rise just a little so I could bring them over your hips, there was a moment.
One single, insignificant moment.
It surged through me like a blast of lightning right through my chest.
I envisioned a life with you, and it wasn’t because you were naked and you were mine. It was your hands on me. Depending on me to keep you grounded. Keep you safe. But help you rise. You didn’t notice that I stared at you then, and the visions I had weren’t blurred or hazy. They were clear and concise, and this, I thought to myself. This is what I want forever and a day.
A lifetime of single, insignificant moments.
I used to think of you as my sunrise, but in that moment, I realized you were the sun, the stars, the moon, the sky, the ground, and everything in between.
Before the crying and the yelling and the truth, there was you.
And you were everything.
These are the words I’d wanted to say to Mia if I saw her again. I’d written and rewritten it so many times that I had it memorized. It’s not that I wanted her back or wanted her forgiveness… I just—for some reason, I needed her to know that she was loved.
Before the crying and the yelling and the truth, there was love.
If I’m being honest, I never thought the opportunity would come. I still wasn’t a firm believer of fate, but maybe… she’s here, and I’m here, and I don’t know what I expected to feel when I saw her again. When she came into view, standing just inside the door of my house, it was like a dream, a fantasy. And the only words that came to mind were the ones written in notebook after notebook in preparation for this one moment. If this happened in one of Lucy’s books, I’d have pushed all my siblings aside, marched down those stairs, stood before her, and declared all those feelings, out loud, fuck who was listening. But this wasn’t a fictional story, and I was no one’s hero. So I watched her, from afar, as the day went on and on and on. She disappeared for a couple of hours, but I knew she was still around.