Текст книги "Running on Empty"

Автор книги: L. B. Simmons

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

The rest of the day is pretty much a blur. After what was most definitely a feminine breakdown, I head back into to my office and just zone out all day. After a while, I take solace in looking at each and every knick-knack on my desk which I’ve accumulated from my kiddos over the years. There are many memories in those beautiful art projects and presents that now reside in my office. I pay special attention to a few of my favorites.

There’s the “My Mom Rocks” picture I framed that Nycole made for me just last year. Black crayon lettering on top of alternating strips of color in a rainbow pattern, each precisely the same width because; well…that’s just Nycole. I love it…everything about it is perfect. And it makes me feel like she loves me, which is actually really rare these days, with her pre-pubescent attitude and everything. She made me that picture one night and left it in my laptop bag without telling me. She’s usually the silent type, not wanting to draw attention to her actions. When I found it in my bag, I was so touched that I immediately went and bought a frame; it’s been on my desk ever since.

From Kyndall, I have a framed picture she drew of the day that she and Derek went to the lake, just the two of them. In the picture, there are two stick figures holding hands walking on the beach with the sunset in the background. She must have been around five years old, judging by the artistic talent, but I remember this one specifically for two reasons. One, the sunset. It’s not a typical sunset. In fact, it’s a very bright neon pink and green sunset. Very Kyndall-esque. Two, this was the first picture she drew after Derek passed. I was worried because she stopped drawing after it happened. Since art and Kyndall go hand and hand, the fact that she wasn’t drawing worried me. When she gave this to me, I knew she would be okay. But the sight of it made me cry silently for days. Very bittersweet.

From Rylie, I have the Father’s day present I gave to Derek from her the summer before he died. The “#1 Daddy” frame holds a picture that I think is one of the most poignant pictures I have ever taken. Derek is holding Rylie tightly on his hip and smiling at her. Her chubby legs draped around him and her head thrown back laughing at something undoubtedly goofy he just did. And he’s looking at her as though nothing or no one else exists. I know she was only one year old when he died, but those two had a bond unlike anything I had ever seen. I honestly think it was because he knew without a doubt that she was going to be just like him. Rotten and ornery, but so lovable, they never stay in trouble. And he would have been exactly right.

Then I look over at the note from Blake. Where does that fit into all of this?

It doesn’t. End of story.

So what now? I obviously have to call him and thank him. I mean, it was a thoughtful, yet extremely frustrating, gesture.

How does one go about getting a hold of Blake Morgan?

I finally walk out of my office around four o’clock and see Harlow typing away at her desk. I walk to the leather seat in front of her desk and dramatically dump myself in the chair.

Whining loudly, and sounding much like my children, I ask her, “What the hell am I supposed to do now Harlow? I mean…how do I even get a hold of him? Am I supposed to just pull over on the interstate every morning at eight o’clock so that maybe I’ll run into him?” I sigh loudly. “This is asinine.”

Harlow shoots me a very unsympathetic look. “I think that you’re thinking about it too much. I also think that going to I-35 every day at eight o’clock in the morning would have me calling you ‘psychotic’, behind your back, of course. And it would definitely get the unwanted attention of the police and some of the homeless that live under the overpass. So let’s just x-nay the alking-stay. I think that you’re a reasonable adult, who can make reasonable decisions.” She rolls her eyes in exasperation.

“Alex, just call his freaking parents and see if they can get you in touch with him. It’s not that hard. It’s just a thank you. It’s not like you’re proposing to him. Unless you want to propose to him, which would make the stalking notion a little more acceptable,” she says with a wicked little smile.

“Okay, first of all the interstate statement was meant merely for dramatic effect, so stop using the word stalking…both in Pig Latin and in English. Secondly, you think I should call his parents? Really? You don’t think that would be weird?” I ask.

“No, I don’t think it will be weird at all. It would just seem like you’re calling a friend to say thanks. I mean, you guys were friends once, right? Since you were mere babes in cribs? So would it be that far off base to do something like that? No. I do think that the fact you’re obsessing over this like a smitten high school girl sure does say a lot though. Just my opinion.”

Before I have a chance to make a smart ass rebuttal, she jumps out of her chair and grabs her purse. “Gotta get going. I’m going to pick up the pizza tonight before I come over for Wednesday’s Weekly Wild And Wacky Women’s Night. So don’t worry about picking up anything, I’ve got it covered. Just have your iPod ready with the usual Dance Party USA playlist, okay? Love you!” She hugs me quickly and runs towards the door. “Call his parents, Alex. And see ya at seven!” she shouts as the door closes. I love how she always leaves when she feels like she’s made her point, leaving me absolutely no time to say anything.

Fine. I grab Harlow’s office phone and dial his parent’s number just as easily as if I was in junior high school. I can’t believe I remember that.

After being prompted to leave a message, thank God, I leave one with his parents with the reason I’m calling and my number in case Blake wants to “call me back”. Yeah, I said “call me back”, like I’m sixteen years old again. I should’ve said something to the effect of “if he would like to get a hold of me” or “in case we are the last two people left on earth.” Yeesh.

Oh well…damage done. I hang up the office phone, grab my purse and my keys, and take one more look at the note lying on my desk. I decide to walk back into my office and put it my drawer.

It’s odd. It definitely doesn’t fit in anywhere or with anything on my desk, but I don’t want to throw it away.

Emotionally spent, I sigh as I close my office door. Leaving to go pick up my “wild and wacky” girls, I’m definitely ready for tonight.

My non-emotional Wednesday night.

“Seriously girls, how hard is it to actually spit the toothpaste in the sink?”

Looking at what appears to be a mosaic of pink (Rylie’s – of course) and blue toothpaste all around my children’s bathroom sink, I’m once again in shock (yet slightly impressed) at the range of toothpaste emission my children have. There’s toothpaste on the front of the sink, dripping down the cabinet doors like an extremely thick coat of paint. There’s toothpaste on the counter. There’s toothpaste on the faucet head. There’s toothpaste splattered all over the bottom half of the mirror. Best of all, there’s toothpaste all over the top of toilet tank. Looks like Rylie, or Kyndall, or both, have been practicing their finger painting.

“I need all three of you girls in here, pronto! Harlow’s going to be here any minute and you know she won’t give you your dollar if this bathroom is not spotless!” Thank God for Harlow. The one room I could guarantee would be clean tonight would be their bathroom. Hey, every little bit helps.

Harlow, having a strong aversion to both filthy bathrooms and the work that goes into actually cleaning them, started bribing my daughters years ago to clean theirs once a week. The cleaning has to be on Wednesday, since that was our weekly girl’s night, right before she comes over.

I chuckle to myself when the three loud shrieks come from the living room. I watch them all file into the bathroom. Kyndall in her “bohemian chic” panties only get-up. Rylie in a fairy costume, complete with wings and slippers that must have come out of her dress up trunk…undoubtedly a mess that I’ll be cleaning up later. And Nycole in one of my old sleep shirts, which reads “Miss Be-haven”. Smiles on all of their faces, they grab the cleaning supplies from under the counter.

“No cleaning spray in Rylie’s hair this time, please Kyndall,” I say, giving them each a hug.

“Mama! I told you I was sorry,” Kyndall whines while rolling her eyes.

“I know, baby. I just want to make sure it doesn’t happen again. That was not fun, okay?”

I look at Nycole shaking her head. We both stifle a giggle. That night was one for the memory books.

The doorbell rings and the girls scream and grab their sponges.

“Alright, I’ll try to stall her as long as I can, okay? Be sure to put the toilet seat down this time. We don’t want Harlow falling in like she did last week. It took me twenty minutes to convince her to pay you guys. Deal?”

“Deal!”

I listen to them in the bathroom as they giggle with each other. No doubt the idea of having Harlow fall in the toilet again is extremely tempting, but I don’t want to encourage it…out loud at least. Leaving them to their cleaning duties, I make my way to the front door.

Opening it, I see Harlow, all smiles. She’s holding two boxes of pizza and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“I already had a bottle you lush,” I say grabbing the pizza from her.

“You know one’s never enough for us…and you’re the lush.”

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I give her a quick wink, also taking the bottle from her hand. “I’ll go ahead and put this in the fridge. You know, just in case.” I shut the door behind her. “The girls are working on your bathroom. I told them I would stall you.”

“Well, at least they’re good for something. I mean, besides the obvious comedic relief. And it’s good for them. It gives them a sense of purpose. Very important, you know. I only bribe them to clean the bathroom to make them better human beings,” she states with a hint of sarcasm. At least I hope it’s sarcasm.

“Well…regardless, they need some time. Let’s get dinner and dancing ready. I’m ready to tucker these kiddos out. I need some mommy time.”

“Yeah, I figured you might after today. Hence the second bottle of wine.”

“Right. And what’s your reason for every other Wednesday?”

“Umm…” I give her a quick smile for her efforts.

“Yeah, well, don’t strain your brain. I’m so ready to get this night started. Hey – while I get everything ready, can you go check on your nieces? But peek in, don’t let them see you. I just want to make sure there are no unfortunate incidents with any cleaning products tonight.”

Harlow belts out a laugh and makes her way to the bathroom. “Yes. Let’s do that. I prefer to avoid that situation from happening again if at all possible. I really don’t feel like frantically jumping in the shower for fear of Rylie losing her hair…or her eyesight. I would like to remain low key tonight. Well, as low key as possible in this crazy house.” I lose sight of her as she pokes her head into the bathroom.

Leaving the pizzas in the living room, I carry the wine into the kitchen and put it in the fridge.

Obviously, Harlow didn’t continue “peeking in” as I requested, because about five seconds after I enter the kitchen, I hear “Harlow!” cheers from the other room. I also hear suspect murmuring and lowered voices. There’s absolutely no telling what bargain Harlow is striking with them right now. I shudder to think.

I assume they pass the cleaning inspection, though, because shortly after I see them all carrying dollar bills around with huge grins on their faces.

“Everyone in the living room please!” I yell, grabbing the plates and heading towards the living room. Slowly but surely, everyone takes their usual seats. Harlow sits on the couch with Rylie in her lap and Nycole and Kyndall sitting on either side of her. And me…on the floor criss-cross applesauce because let’s face it, I’m old news. Pizza on the coffee table, we all dig in as the girls tell Harlow about their day.

“Hah-low.” Harlow has no choice but to look at Rylie as she places one hand on each side of her face and forces her to turn her head. “Hah-low listen to me. You listening?” Harlow laughs and nods her head. Rylie smiles back at her. “Guess what! I did not go to time out today. I was a good girl. My teacher said so.”

“Really? I am so proud of you Rylie. Are you sure you didn’t go to time out today?” Harlow asks, knowing as well as I do that when she offers up information like that, it’s usually not a good sign.

“Yes ma’am. I’m sure. I was a good girl, ‘cause I am bigger. I’m not little anymore,” Rylie says in reference to the fact that she just moved into “the big girls” class in school.

“Yes, you are a big girl,” Harlow says very seriously. “You’re so big I think it’s time for you to move out and get your own place.” She winks at me and turns back to Rylie.

Grimacing, Rylie states, “Hah-low. Stop saying that. You’re makin’ me crazy.”

“Yeah, well, consider us even then,” Harlow says right before smiling and planting a big kiss on Rylies’ cheek.

“How about you, Kyndall? How was your day? Anything interesting happen to you today?” We all turn to look at Kyndall. Mouth full of pizza, she answers Harlow’s question. “I played with my friend Abby.”

Pet peeve number one – talking with a mouthful. Especially Kyndall because she’s still got quite a bit of space left in between her front two teeth.

Harlow jumps a little and then wipes her cheek. “Kyndall, honey, say it don’t spray it!” Nycole and I burst into laughter. Kyndall giggles and finishes her bite. “Sorry Harlow. I forgot to swallow first!”

“It’s okay, hon. Go on with your story.” Harlow glances at me with wide eyes, as though she can’t believe she just got pegged in the face with a chewed up piece of pepperoni. I let out another little giggle. I can’t help it.

“Well, I played with Abby today. And we both told jokes. Wanna hear ‘em?” She flashes an excited, dimple filled smile.

“Go for it!” Harlow distances herself from Kyndall before she begins. I’m pretty sure this is a precautionary measure.

“What do you call a bear with no teeth?” We all wait in anticipation.

“A gummy bear!” She giggles out loud. Nycole just shakes her head.

“Want another one? What did the lion say after he ate the clown?”

“WHAT?” Rylie pipes in.

“Something tastes funny!” This time Kyndall and Rylie let out giggles. Catching on to the game, Rylie jumps off of Harlow’s lap and stands in front of us. “Wanna hear my joke, Hah-low?”

“Sure!” Harlow watches Rylie twist her body from side to side.

“What do you call a bear who eats a clown?”

We all look at each other knowing this is in no way a real joke. Once she has our undivided attention again, she delivers the punch line.

“Poop!” She breaks into uncontrollable laughter at her own joke. So typical. Both her laughing at herself and her use of the word poop.

“Rylie, please don’t say poop.” I’m trying very unsuccessfully to not giggle myself, because now she’s rolling around on the ground as if she just said the funniest thing in the world. Everyone’s looking around at each other when Kyndall finally says, “I don’t get it.” And that does it. We all break into a collective fit of laughter. Great. I’m encouraging my daughter to say poop because it makes people laugh. Mother. Of. The. Year.

Once we all quiet down, Harlow continues her line of questioning, this time focusing on Nycole.

“Nycole – how was your day sweetheart? Did you learn anything new?”

Nycole finishes her bite of pizza before answering. Thank you, Nycole.

“Nope.”

Harlow and I exchange glances. “Really,” Harlow continues. “You didn’t learn anything at school today?”

“Nope.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

“Not one thing?” I can tell Harlow’s trying to break her. She gets some kind of sick thrill out of it.

“Nope.”

“Not one, little bitty, eensie weensie, teenie tiny thing?”

“Nope.” I have to end this now. We could go on all night.

“Nycole, for the love of all that is holy, please tell Harlow one thing you learned today!”

Nycole sighs loudly. “Fine.” She fixes her eyes on Harlow. “I learned not to sit anywhere close to Kyndall while she’s eating. Because Harlow still has a huge piece of pizza on her cheek.” Harlow immediately puts her hand up to her cheek.

I glance over at Nicole and watch as a mischievous grin spreads across her face. She watches Harlow as she begins running her hands all over her face, making sure to remove any possible remnants of Kyndall’s dinner. When she’s done, she looks to Nycole for approval.

“Gotcha!” Nycole shouts and runs out of the room. Harlow jumps up off the couch and runs after her. Rylie and Kyndall follow, shrieking with delight.

And this is when the real fun of Wild and Wacky Wednesday begins. I couldn’t be happier to not be thinking about anything that occurred earlier today. This was my time to not think. To just have fun…with all of my girls.

So after the next three hours of talking, laughing, dancing, bathing, brushing and reading…Harlow and I finally get the girls to bed. I take in a deep breath to relax. It feels like I have been going all day.

I walk over to the couch and deposit myself beside Harlow. That’s when I feel her staring at me. “What?” I say widening my eyes.

“You.”

“Me? What about me?”

Harlow sighs rather forcefully and I start to get the feeling I’m really not going to like this conversation.

“Are you going to say anything about what happened today? I know seeing Blake threw you for a bit of an emotional loop, a fact made evident by your breakdown at the office. I’m just wondering if you would like to have the chance to go on the offensive before I start my assessment of the situation,” Harlow states matter-of-factly.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I honestly don’t think you even know what you’re talking about. Yes, I saw Blake Morgan today. I see people around town all the time, Harlow. It’s not like he’s any different. The breakdown I had was from the stress of nearly dying on the interstate, nothing more. I don’t know why you’re reading into this so much; it’s really borderline obsessive. I might actually have to call someone for an intervention.”

I know by Harlow’s calm tone, I’m about to get the speech of a lifetime. The calm before the storm…and the impending long lecture.

“Alex, how long have we known each other?”

“Since we were seven?” I ask because I’m not really sure where she’s going with this line of questioning.

“Right, so that’s…what…twenty…some odd years. You think after all these years that I don’t know you?” She stalls waiting for an answer. I continue to pretend I have no idea what she’s talking about. I don’t really have to pretend that much actually. Yet, she keeps on going, like the Energizer bunny.

“Well, I do. Honestly, I know you better than yourself. Especially lately.”

I feel my blood pressure begin to rise.

“Harl–”

“No, you’re going to let me finish. I’m not going to give you the chance to try to rationalize out loud what you think is going on, because it’s time for you to hear what I have to say. I know you don’t want to hear it, but honey, you need to. I need you to. Your children need you to,” she begins.

“You know I love you more than if you were my own sister, if that’s even possible. So saying this isn’t going to be easy, but just know that I’m saying it out of love for you and your precious girls.”

I open my mouth to speak but she holds up her hand, signaling she’s serious about me not speaking.

Okay…

“Do you really believe that seeing Blake today had nothing to do with what happened at the office today?” I nod my head, trying to end this conversation before it starts. Unfortunately for me, it seems to have the opposite effect.

“You can’t honestly believe that, Alex!” Harlow takes a deep breath, obviously trying to control her temper. She lowers her voice, but keeps her eyes on me the entire time she speaks.

“No, I don’t think you do. I think you know, deep down, that seeing Blake had an effect on you. And I think that you’re so used to not allowing yourself to feel anything that your brain didn’t know how to cope. I don’t know how long you’re going to keep doing this to yourself, Alex. How long is long enough?” I continue my blank stare. Unfortunately, I think she’s on to me.

“You go on, each day, as though you’re happy and at peace with your life. Or at least trying to convince yourself that you are. But you also go on, each day, not really living. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to you and it’s definitely not fair to your children, who deserve to see their mother happy. It’s time to let him go and live your life without him. Derek has been dead for three years! Three. Years. Alex.”

Okay…now I’m really starting to get irritated.

“Really Harlow. How profound of you.” I glare at her. My voice starts to quiver as it rises.

“No shit Derek’s been dead for three years! I live with that knowledge every single day of my life. Every day, I wake up still expecting him to be lying next to me. Every day, I look at these children and wonder if they have any inkling of how wonderful, caring, smart, beautiful, strong, and loving their father really was. I live my life, every day, with a heart that is completely empty. I have a heart that unfortunately is irreparable. Yes, Harlow, every day of my life is a constant reminder that Derek is dead! Is there any other mind blowing information you feel the need to share with me?!” I yell at her as the tears roll down my cheeks.

Without hesitation, Harlow moves herself directly in front of my face. “Yes, Alex. Actually there is. You’ve become so obsessed with living right by him after his death…you don’t see anything else. Derek is dead, Alex. You are not! But you live as though you are, as though your life is done and over with too. You should know better than anyone how short and precious life is. How important it is to make the most of what you have been given. You have got to find the strength to get back out there. To love again. To feel again. You cannot continue this apathetic way of life. It’s not healthy for you…and it’s affecting you. If I see it, you know the girls see it. Is that how you want to be seen by your daughters…the children who worship the ground you walk on? Is that the example you want to set for them? Or do you want them to see the true strength their mother possesses? Because I know it’s still in there, Alex. I know you and I know your fierce strength. How hard you can love. How much life you still have in you. Don’t let your fear rob you of the happiness that you deserve.” My thoughts automatically go to Blake.

“What…so Blake’s supposed to be my second chance? Just because he happens to come back to town, that means I’m supposed to fall madly and deeply in love with him? Get real, Harlow. I have three daughters now. I don’t have the luxury to just fall in love on a whim. My life is different now,” I say to her, trying to control my anger.

“This has nothing to do with Blake. What it has to do with is the fact that you’re so obsessed with Derek that you won’t let anyone else in. He didn’t do anything today but help you. Yet you’re angry about it. Instead of being grateful like anyone else in their right mind would be. Although seeing you express any emotion at all is refreshing actually. You’ve completely closed yourself off from anyone else but me. You won’t open yourself up to feel anything. That’s what concerns me.”

I try to choke down my anger, but I don’t think it’s really working. I’m pretty sure my anger filled tears are giving me away.

Harlow shifts her weight on the couch. “Listen honey, it could be Tony the fucking Tiger and I would still be having this conversation with you. You have blinders on and refuse to allow yourself to see anything else. I’m not saying you should feel anything for Blake. But it’s okay to get help from people. Not everyone expects something in return. Blake was always there for you when you needed him, and evidently he still is.” I roll my eyes. She continues.

“But while we are on the topic of Blake…I do find it very interesting that you say seeing him is like seeing anyone else around town. I know you and Derek were together for a very long time. But there was a time before Derek, Alex. There was a time that you and Blake were actually very close friends. Best friends. We all were. But you refuse to acknowledge any of this when talking about him. Do you even remember those days? Do you remember how much he cared for you back then? Even as young as we were, he would’ve done anything for you. He was always there for you, whenever you needed him, both before and after you met Derek. Do you really not remember? Or is it just safer for you not to remember?”

I just stare at her when she’s finished with her speech, tears now running in continuous streams down my face. I can’t answer her because, honestly, I don’t know the answers to the questions she’s asking. I don’t know anything anymore. I can say that I honestly had no thoughts stemming back to my relationship with Blake when I saw him this morning. All I really thought about Blake this morning was that I found him extremely irritating. Maybe Harlow does have a point. Because, now that I think about it, it’s odd that I didn’t even think about my past relationship with Blake this morning, considering he and I grew up together. She’s right; we had a history together and for me not to even remember that, well…

I exhale in defeat.

“Alright, Harlow. I get it. It’s just hard sometimes, ya know? Honestly, I’m tired of being strong all the time, tired of pretending. But I’m scared. It’s so much easier for me to cling to the memories of happiness than to consider any possibility of losing someone again. You were there Harlow. You saw everything. I don’t know if I could survive it a second time when I barely made it through the first time. You know that. How many times did you have to force me to get up just to take care of the girls? How many times did you have to come over to console me when I couldn’t stop screaming and crying? How many times did you come over just to check on the girls to make sure they were okay – and don’t say you didn’t because I know you did. Honestly, how many times? So I understand your concern, I truly do. But I feel that I’ve earned a little leeway to be scared without being judged.”

Though still angry, I feel myself conceding that she might be on to something. “But…you’re right about the girls deserving better. And I’ll work on that, okay. Just please, try to be patient with me.”

My face is now soaked with my tears.

“It’s just not easy for me to accept help from people. You also know that Harlow. I don’t want to let someone in only to lose them again and asking for help is letting someone in. That scares me to death so I guess I choose to distance myself like I did this morning with Blake. Of all the freakin’ people, why did it have to be him? ”

Harlow gives me a slight smile.

“Alex. I love you. I love your girls. I just want to see you allow yourself to be happy. I’m not saying Blake is or isn’t the one to do that for you. But I don’t want to see you push away a true friendship that you need right now. And you need him. I know you do. And I think you know you do, too. I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing that it was Blake this morning. Maybe someone’s trying to tell you something, but you’re just being too stubborn to listen.” She places her hand on my knee.

“Listen. You know I have no room to pass judgment. And I would never pass judgment on you. Yes, I did see everything you went through. And the fact that you’re here, being a wonderful mother to those beautiful girls, shows me how strong you truly are. How strong you can be. Show the girls that strength. Your strength. Teach them. I know you can. I know you want to. And I know you will. But eventually, you’re going to have to let someone else in. Even if it’s just a friend. You need to start trusting people again, Alex. ”

I nod my head and place my hand over hers. “I know, Harlow. It’s just not that easy. I’ll try, but please be patient with me. And even though I’m officially still mad at you,” I give her a quick wink, “I know that you’re only saying this because you care, so I forgive you.”

I tighten my hand around hers.

“I love you Harlow. And I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Harlow gives my hand a pat. “You are most welcome.” Then, smiling widely she adds, “Now, enough of the serious shit…let’s finish off that second bottle of wine.”

Two hours and one fall in the toilet later by Miss Harlow Reed (for which I knowingly misplace the blame onto my children), I close the door as Harlow leaves. When I’m confident she’s gone, I migrate to the attic to pull out a box full of random things I kept from my time with Derek. Old letters, dried flowers, movie tickets, etc. I don’t know why, but I just feel the need to go through it right now. Maybe it’s because Harlow just drilled the fact that Derek is indeed dead into my head tonight.

Flashlight in hand, I walk across the attic floor. I notice a box sitting in the corner that I don’t recognize. It’s simply labeled “Alex’s Stuff.” Hmm…whoever was in charge of labeling on moving day really needed to be reassigned to do something else.

I open the box and it is mainly stuff from my childhood room: dolls, cassette tapes, yearbooks…

Digging around, I notice an old shoe box at the bottom. I pull it out and open it. In the box there are many pieces of paper, different shapes and sizes, with writing all over them. Below them, something shiny catches my eye. I shift the papers over and pull the silver object out of the box. I let out a small gasp.

In my hand is the charm bracelet that Blake had given me when we were kids. He worked for years and years on it.

Oh.My.God. How could I have forgotten?

And how could I have just thrown it in a box?

I look at each charm and smile. I remember every single one. Blake would get a charm anytime we went anywhere. He would buy them when he went on summer and winter vacations with his family. He would even buy them on random occasions, making his mom take him all over to find just the right one. And since this started when we were around seven years old, there were a lot of charms, five or six year’s worth of them. I flip through them quickly to find my favorite charm. Blake gave it to me when we were thirteen years old.