: What you need, what you deserve, is a guy who adores you for what you are. Who doesn't see you as a project, but a prize. you know?
: But I'd long ago learned not to be picky in farewells. They weren't guaranteed or promised. You were lucky, more than blessed, if you got a good-bye at all.
: We'd start slow, the way we always did, because the run, and the game, could go on for awhile. Maybe even forever.
That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about. It was twenty minutes, or a hundred years, or just this instant, or any instant I wished would last and last. But there was only one truth about forever that really mattered, and that was this: it was happening. Right then, as I ran with Wes into that bright sun, and every moment afterwards. Look, there. Now. Now. Now.
: Some people, they can't just move on, you know, mourn and cry and be done with it. Or at least seem to be. But for me... I don't know. I didn't want to fix it, to forget. It wasn't something that was broken. It's just...something that happened. And like that hole, I'm just finding ways, every day, of working around it. Respecting and remembering and getting on at the same time.
: Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. you get use to the weight, how it holds you in place.
: But that was the problem with having the answers. It was only after you gave them that you realized they sometimes weren't what people wanted to hear.
: That was the thing about being on the inside: the world was just going on, even when it seemed like time for you had stopped for good.
: But as I stood watching her, I realized how truly hard it was,really, to see someone you love change right before your eyes. Not only is it scary, it throws your balance off as well. This was how my mother felt, I realized, over the weeks I worked at Wish, as she began to not recognize me in small ways, day after day. It was no wonder she'd reacted by pulling me closer, forcibly narrowing my world back to fit insider her own. Even now, as I finally saw this as the truth it was, a part of me wishing my mother would stand up straight, take command, be back in control. But all I'd wanted when she was tugging me closer was to be able to prove to her that the changes in me were good ones, ones she'd understand if she only gave them a chance. I had that chance now. While it was scary, I was gong to take it.
: It was like that part of my life, was just gone. It was almost too easy, for something I once thought had meant everything.
: Shoulda, coulda,
woulda. It's so easy in the past tense.
: Like life isn't
complicated enough. You should at least be able to follow the
signs.
: The thing about Wes," Delia said to
me, unwrapping another package of turkey, "is that he thinks
he can fix anything. And if he can't fix it, he can at least do
something with the pieces of what's broken.
The way I see it," she continued,
"is that some things are just meant to be the way they are.
It's just that...I just think that some
things are meant to be broken. Imperfect. Chaotic. It's the universe's way of
providing contrast, you know? There have to be a few holes in the road. It's
how life is.
But if everything was always smooth and
perfect," she continued, "you'd get too used to that, you
know? You have to have a little bit of disorganization now and
then. Otherwise, you'll never really enjoy it when things go right.
: That was the hard thing about grief, and
the grieving. They spoke another language, and the words we knew always fell
short of what we wanted them to say.
: The silence wasn't like the
ones I'd known lately, though: it wasn't empty as much as chosen.
There's a entirely different feel to quiet when
you're with some-one else, and at any moment it could be broken.
Like the difference between a pause and an ending.
: That was the thing. You never got used to
it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it's reconciled,
accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again,
that shocking.
: "It was just one of those things," I
said, "You know, that just happen. You don't think or plan. You just do
it."
: I like flaws. I think they make things
interesting.
: Life can be long or short, it all depends
on how you choose to live it. it's like forever, always changing. for any of
us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred years from now. You can
never know for sure, so you'd better make every second count. What you have
to decide is how you want your life to be. If your forever was ending
tomorrow, is this how you'd want to have spent it?
: Never would forever, with all its
meanings, be so clear and distinct as in the true, guaranteed end of the
world.
: And that was it. All this buildup to a
great leap, and I didn't fall or fly. Instead I found myself back on the edge
of the cliff, blinking, wondering if I'd ever jumped at all. It's not
supposed to be like this.
: An empty frame, in which the picture is
always changing, makes a statement about how time is always passing. It
doesn't really stop, even in a single image. It just feels that way.
: I knew that in the silence that followed,
that anything could happen here. It might be too late again. I might have
missed my chance. But I would at least know I tried, that I took my heart and
extended my hand, whatever the outcome.
: How weird was it that so many bits and
pieces, all diverse, could make something whole. Something with potential. Perfect.
: But all I could think of was how when
nothing made sense and hadn't for ages, you just have to grab onto anything
you feel sure of.
: Your actions is like a raindrop; it falls
into the pond making riffles and then its over...
: I got back in my car, starting the
engine, then drove off. It wasn't until I pulled onto the highway that it all
really sunk it, how temporary our friendship had been. We'd been on our
breaks, after all, but it wasn't our relationships that were on pause: it was
us. Now we were both in motion again, moving ahead. So what if there were
questions left unanswered. Life went on. We knew that better than anyone.
: As for me, I was just trying to get it
right, whatever that means.
: But now I finally felt I was on my way. Everyone
had a forever, but given a choice, this would be mine. The one that began in
this moment, with Wes, in a kiss that took my breath away, then gave it back
- leaving me astounded, amazed and most of all, alive.
: But it had happened. I had followed
Delia's van that night, I had told Wes my Truths, I had stepped into his
arms, showing him my raw, broken heart. I could pretend otherwise, pushing it
out of sight and hopefully out of mind. But if something was really
important, fate made sure it somehow came back to you and gave you another
chance. I'd gotten one reaching out to grab Kristy's hand as she pulled me
into the ambulance; another during the trip to the hospital that ended with
seeing Avery born. Events conspired to bring you back to where you'd been. It
was what you did then that made all the difference: it was all about
potential.
: You know what happens when someone dies?'
Delia said suddenly, startling me a bit. I kept putting together my sandwich,
though, not answering: I knew there was more. 'It's like, everything and
everyone refracts, each person having a different reaction'
: 'When Wish
died, it just knocked the wind out of me. Truly. It's like that stupid thing
Bert and Wes do, the leaping out thing, trying to scare each
other: it was the biggest gotcha in the world.' She looked down at the
sandwiches. 'I'd just assumed she'd be okay. It had never occurd to me she
might actually just be... gone. You know?'
:'And then she was,' Delia said,
her hand on the bread bag. 'Gone. Gotcha. And suddenly I had these two boys
to take care of, plus a newborn of my own. It was just this huge loss, this
huge gap, you know'
: I envied Delia. At least she knew what she
was up against. Maybe that's what you got when you stood over your grief,
facing it finally. A sense of its depths, its area, the distance across, and
the way over or around it, whichever you chose in the
end.'
: She shook her head. 'Look. We both know
life is short, Macy. Too short to waste a single second with anyone who
doesn't appreciate and value you.'
'You said the other day life
was long,' I shot back. 'Which is it?'
'It's both,' she said,
shrugging. 'It all depends on how you choose to live it. It's like forever,
always changing.'
'Nothing can be two opposite things at once,' I
said. 'It's impossible.'
'No,' she replied, squeezing my hand,'
what's impossible is that we actually think it could be anything other than
that. Look, when I was in the hosptal, right after the accident, they thought
I was going to die. I was really fucked up, big time.'
'Uh-huh,'
Monica said, looking at her sister.
'Then,' Kristy continued,
nodding at her, 'life was very short, literally. but now that I'm better it
seems so long I have to squint to see even the edges of it. It's all in the
view, Macy. That's what I mean about forever, too.
: It seemed like it was a choice I had already made. I'd spent the
last year and a half with Jason, shaping my life to fit his, doing what I had
to in order to make sure I had a place in his perfect world, where things made
sense. But it hadn't worked. 'Listen,' Kristy said,' the truth is,
nohing is guaranteed. You know that more than anybody.' She looed at me hard,
making sure I knew what she meant. I did. 'So don't be afraid. Be
alive.'
But then, I couldn't imagine, after everything that had
happened, how you could live and not constantly be worrying about the dangers
all around you. Especially when you'd already gotten the scare of your life.
'It's the same thing,' I told her.
'What
is?'
'Being afraid and being alive.'
'No,' she said
slowly, and now it was as if she was speaking a language she knew at first I
wouldn't understand, the very words, not to mention the concept, being
foreign to me. 'Macy, no. It's not.'
: This was always the problem with my
mother and me, I suddenly realized. There were so many things we thought we
agreed on, but anything can have two meanings. Like sides of a coin, it just
matters how it falls.
: I didn't pay atteniton to times or
distance, instead focusing on how it felt just to be in motion, knowing it
wasn't about the finish line but how I got there that mattered.
: This was just one night, one chance to
vary and see where it took me.
: The fireflies were probably already out: maybe
it wasn't just a season or a time but a whole world I'd forgotten. I'd
never know until I stepped out into it. So I did.
: He was looking at me, just as I'd thought
he would be, but like Bert's, his light was not what I expected. No pity, no
sadness: nothing had changed. I realized all the times I'd felt people stare
at me, their faces had been pictures, abstracts. None of them were mirrors,
able to reflect back the expression I thought one I wore, the feelings only I
felt.
: And I think she works so much because she
can be in control of it, you know?' I said. She nodded. 'It makes her feel, I
don't know, safe.'
'I can understand that,' Delia said softly.
'Losing someone can make you feel very out of control. Totally so.'
I know,' I said. 'But it's not really fair. Like, after my dad
died, I wanted to be okay for her. So I was. Even when I had to fake it. But
now, when I really do feel okay, she's not happy with me. Because I'm not
perfect anymore.'
'Grieving doesn't make you imperfect,' Delia said
quietly, as Bert came back out to the van, adjusting one of the carts inside.
'It makes you human. We all deal with things differently.'
: I listened for the voice I knew so well,
the one I always heard at the beginning. 'Good girl, Macy! You're
doing great! You know the first steps are the hardest part!
They
were. Sometimes I felt so out of sync, it was all could do not to quit after a few strides.
But I kept on, as I did now. I had to, to get to the next part, this part,
where I finally caught up with Wes, my shadow aligning itself with his, an he turned to look at me, pushing his hair our of his
eyes.
: But she wouldn't. I knew that already. My
mother and I had an understanding: we worked together to be as much in
control of our shared world as possible. I was supposed to be her other half,
carrying my share of the weight. In the last few weeks, I'd tried to shed it,
and doing so sent everything off kilter. So of course she would pull me
tighter, keeping me in my place, because doing so meant she would always be
sure, somehow, of her own.
: Here was a boy who liked flaws, who saw
them not as failings but as strengths. Who knew such a person could exist, or
what would have happened if we'd found each other under different
circumstances? Maybe in a perfect world. But not in this one.
: Fine...a word that you said when someone
asked how you were but didn't really care to know the truth.
: I have to admit, an unrequited love is so
much better than a real one. I mean, it's perfect... As long as something is
never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless
potential.
: The choices you make now, the people you
surround yourself with, they all have the potential to affect your life, even
who you are, forever.
: When you have lost hope, you lost
everything. And when you think all is lost, when all is dire and bleak, there
is always hope.
: I'd chosen instead to just change my
route, go miles out of the way, as if avoiding it would
make it go away once and for all.
: It's nice to have options even if you
can't take them.
: All I'd wanted for
so long was for someone to explain everything that
had happened to me in this same way. To label it neatly on a page:
this leads to this leads to this.
: It was becoming clear to me that I
shouldn't bother to get too attached to anything. Turn your back and you lose
it. Just like that.
: None of it meant anything, and all of it
was important.
: When you had to do something, you had to
do it. And eventually, if you were lucky, you did it well.
: This was our common ground, the secret we
shared but never spoke aloud. I should have been with
him; she should have left him alone.
: Until now, this moment, as our eyes met. If
there was a way to recognize something you'd never seen but still
knew by heart, I felt it as I looked at his face.
Finally, someone understood.
: I knew that in the last few
minutes everything had changed. I'd tried to hold myself apart,
showing only what I wanted, doling out bits and pieces of who
I was. But that only works for so long. Eventually, even the
smallest fragments can't help but make a whole.
: I knew Kristy was probably
exacting the revenge she thought I was due, while Delia
moved right behind her, making apologies and smoothing rough edges.
Monica was most likely following her own path, either oblivious or
deeply emotionally invested, depending on what you
believed, while Wes worked the perimeter, always keeping an eye
on everything. There was a whole other world out there,
the Talbots' world, where I didn't belong now, if I ever had. But
it was okay not to fit in everywhere, as long as you did somewhere.
So I picked up my tray, careful to keep it level,
and pushed through the door to join my friends.
: "You're a rule person," he
said.
"My sister was a cheater. It sort of became
necessary."
"She cheated at this
game?"
"She cheated ateverything ," I said.
"When we played Monopoly, she always insisted on being
banker, then helped herself to multiple loans and 'service fees'
for every real estate transaction. I was, like, ten
or eleven before I played at someone else's house and they told me
you couldn't do that."
He laughed, the sound seeming
loud in all the quiet. I felt myself
smiling, remembering.
"During staring
contests," I said, "she always blinked. Always . But then
she'd swear up and down she hadn't, and make you go
again, and again. And when we played Truth, she lied. Blatantly.
: "No," I snapped. "I mean, no.
I'm answering. I'm just collecting my response."
Another few
seconds passed.
"Is there a time limit for this?" he asked.
: I
shot him a look. "Just wondering.
There was no way to take the story back,
folding it neatly into the place I'd kept it all this time. No
matter what else happened, from here on out, I would always
remember Wes, because with this telling, he'd become part of that
story, of my story, too.
: Once, she'd been a pro at
decompressing, loved to sit on the back deck of the beach
house in one of our splintery Adirondack chairs for hours at
a time, staring at the ocean. She never had a book or the
paper or anything else to distract her. Just the horizon, but it
kept her attention, her gaze unwavering. Maybe it was the absence
of thought that she loved about being out there,
the world narrowing to just the pounding of the waves as the water
moved in and out.
: When he first put his arms around me, it
was tentative, like maybe he expected I'd pull away. When
I didn't, he moved in closer, his hands smoothing over my
shoulders, and in my mind I saw myself retreating a million
times when people tried to do this same thing: my sister or my
mother, pulling back and into myself, tucking everything out of
sight, where only I knew where to find it. This time, though,
I gave in. I let Wes pull me against him, pressing my head against
his chest, where I could feel his heart beating, steady
and true.
: For a second none of us said anything,
and I wondered if, in the end, this is how all disputes are
settled, with a shared silence as things become equal. You take
something from me, I take something from you. We all want
balance, one way or another.
: During the long stretches of quiet
two-lane highway, with the sun setting in the distance, it
was somehow easier to say things aloud, and regardless of what was
said, we just kept moving toward that horizon.
:
"In
Truth," I said, "there are no rules other than you have to tell the
truth."
"How do you win?" he asked.
"That," I said, "Is such a boy question."
: No one could tell you: you just had to go
through it on your own. If you were lucky, you came out on the other side and
understood. If you didn't, you kept getting thrust back, retracing those
steps, until you finally got it right.
