Page 141 of Even Beneath the Stars

A sloppy, glue-gunned, crooked diorama of…

Oh my God.I think it's a miniature model of the Observatory.But the only way I can tell is because there's what I assume is supposed to be a telescope in the middle of the round room constructed from a rolled-up gum wrapper glued to a drinking straw… wobbling atop a crooked stack of Lego bricks painted in coppery orange. The entire thing leans at a precarious angle.

The “floor” is a chunk of cardboard, one side sporting a shipping label, and the whole thing is drowning in hot glue—most of it missing its target. The “walls” are made of unevenly snapped popsicle sticks, some still faintly stained from past lives. But it doesn't matter because almost the entire surface of each wall (and a lot of the floor) is plastered in tiny miniature-sized sticky notes.

My heart clenches.

“It’s…so bad,”I murmur, running a finger over a lopsided wall.

It's perfect.

When I lean in to read some of the notes, I notice a small magnifying glass beside the diorama. I pick it up and peer through the lens, a smile splitting my face the entire time.

Wrote a song about you today.

I miss you.

Is it weird I think Smurfette is kinda hot?

I'm sorry.

My voice cracked recording a solo tonite. You would've died.

Curious if you have any new freckles.

I miss you.

God, I love your laugh.

I'm sorry.

Does pepper come from a flower or a shrub or what?

You looked stunning tonight with your hair down.

I'm sorry.

I miss you.

Tucked underneath the model's base is a larger note. Two pages double-sided. I pull it out and read it.

Maggs,

Incase there was ever any doubt that I read the notes you left for me - I read every single one. And kept them. And re-read them whenever I missed you, which, also incase you can't tell by now - is a whole hell of a lot.

The first note you left, I read that one the most. Sorry it took me this long for the words to sink in. And for me to believe they might be true. Because you're right—I am capable of loving. I know this because I loveyouMaggs. And it may take me a while to be able to say the words out loud, but I'll write you notes telling you, until the day comes when I can.

Think I fell for you the first day you walked into the Club House wearing that t-shirt inside out (It looked ridiculous btw. And you looked fan-fucking-gorgeous).

Now, for the full disclosure part: I'm still working on thebeingloved thing. But—I felt loved those months when we were together. I still do now. And I realized after seeing you Friday night that if I feel loved, then by default, I am loveable. So maybe you are right.

And also. Who the hell wouldn't love me?

JK : )

I've been doing a lot of thinking about it these past few weeks - what love means. Romantic love, I mean. And I think maybe love isn’t just about what you give. Maybe it’s about what someone’s willing to let you see. And the clearest thing I let you see those last weeks we were together was the line I wasn't willing to cross. This letter - these words, they come from the other side of that line, and I'm hoping that means something to you. Even if I'm giving them to you way later than I should have.

Just know that on the other side of that line is me - willing to take a shot at proving to you that I will not disappoint you.

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