Page 109 of When Wildflowers Bloom

PS: I left you the cabin. Never stop making flowers out of clay—you have a gift I never told you about because I didn’t want it to go to your head. Oh, and I put all the marijuana in the blue vase in the living room. I find you less annoying after you smoke some.

I read it so many times I memorize it, then I break down all over again.

Forty-five

Mabel frowns as Idrop onto her plastic-covered couch.

“You and the lumberjack get in some kind of fight?” she asks, scrunching her nose at me. Today she’s wearing tiger-striped leggings and a shirt so pink it attacks my retinas when I look at it.

After Veda’s letter, I cried until I fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I dragged myself into bed but never slept again.

The short glance I gave myself in the mirror before leaving this morning was long enough for me to know I look like I’ve survived a trip through a wood chipper.

My eyes are swollen and bloodshot, hair in a ragged braid, and I’m still wearing Libby’s clothes, which include sweatpants.

This time, when I tell the story of what’s happened, I don’t cry. Voice sluggish, I tell how I knew Veda was dying and did nothing to stop it.

When I’m done, she’s quiet, but there’s a calculating look on her face.

“Well, it was bound to happen,” she says, matter-of-factly, pushing on the fluffy bottom of her wine-colored hair with her palm like she’s some kind of beauty pageant contestant.

I scoff. “What does that even mean?”

“Birdie!” she says, hands up in the air with an exasperated huff. “Years of us reading these books and you didn’t see this coming?”

“Sorry, no,” I say dryly. “I’ve been too focused on thefellatioyou shove down my throat.”

Shetsksme before continuing. “In all our stories there’s the big blowout—right after all the good stuff—andboom!” Her voice raises with a loud clap of her hands, startling me. “A shitstorm! Hearts devastated!” She’s almost proud.

My eyes narrow at her. My life is falling apart and she’s breaking down the technicalities of storytelling. I’m too weak to argue.

“There’s a lesson to be learned in all this,” she says, pulling out a stupid notebook from her waistband, flipping through the pages.

“Yeah, life sucks,” I mutter.

She scoffs, clicking her pen. “Of course, that’s not the lesson! Haven’t you been paying attention?!” She’s stunned. Perplexed. Absolutely baffled that, after years of reading smut, all I noticed was the smut.

“Take Aaron,” she presses, bringing up the last character I want to be talking about right now. “They have a few passionate weeks in his cabin—away from the noise of the modern world while she tries to sort out her father’s will—but then Olivia is forced tochoose between this life of solitude in the woods or going back to her career in the city. She’s torn, not knowing what to do, and he reads her turmoil as him not being good enough for her compared to the opportunities of the modern world. They both fight internal wars, leading to a lack of communication, and a breakup thatweknow is stupid, but they can’t see.”

This time, I scoff. “Mabel, I didn’t tell him his grandmother was dying, this isn’t a silly misunderstanding about city lights versus going to the bathroom in an outhouse for the rest of my life.”

“Semantics!” she cries, dismissing my argument.

I should have called in sick.

“Birdie, what have you learned?”

I sigh, looking at her ridiculous hair, bright lips, and gaudy jewelry. She’s not going to show me mercy; I see that in all her maniacal brightness.

“I love Bo,” I say with a sigh.

“What else? Love isn’t enough, or we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“He doesn’t love me.”

Shetsksthat away with her hand and gives me a look that says,Try again.

“I don’t know,” I snap, raising my voice, feeling my blood flow faster in my veins. “I learned that no matter how hard I try, people die and hearts break. I learned that life with someone is better than life with no one, yet somehow, hurts worse. I learned one more person in my life can make my world so much bigger but ultimately leave me feeling crushed and small. I learned that, after a lifetimeof wishing I had a different life, it turns out a different life is just the same damn bullshit.”

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