Page 106 of Meet Me in the Valley
Hey Logan, it’s Kylie from Green Light Social. Remember me? I’m off tonight. Come to my place.
Four more look just like that, and it makes me sick. Not one name in my notifications gets my heart racing. Not one message makes my smile come out from hiding. Sure, I smiled at Charlotte earlier. But it’s polite. A little broken.
My unguarded smile is waiting forherto resurrect it. That ache is back with a vengeance, permeating through my chest like a sickness, claiming my entire body in total weakness.
The hour spent with Charlotte feels empty now. I thought it was supposed to bring me some form of relief. A release I know I’ve been needing. But this fucking ache. It won’t go away. Not yet. Not right now. I delete all the messages and block their numbers.
Pulling a t-shirt and jeans from my dresser, I shut the drawers with force. I don’t mean to, but this ache has me slowly spinning out of control. I throw on a hoodie, tug it over my head, and snatch the keys to my bike from the hook. I’m out the doorbefore I can think twice. The moment my fingers clutch around the handlebars, I’m gone.
Escape is there. I’m running away again. But I have to right now. I thought today was a step in the right direction, but this shit is harder than I thought. Thoughts of Tia flood my brain and ruin me when her smile, her laugh, her smell all but invade me when I’m flying down the highway with the wind on my back.
“Black Balloon” by The Goo Goo Dollsfloats in my earsasI push the speed faster and faster, as if trying to outrun the rapid thump behind my ribs. Outrun theache.I chase the sunset, eyes trained on the horizon in front of me as I pass the blur of headlights. The colors are so vivid even from behind my visor, vibrant orange and hot pink streaks.
It’s a California sunset if I’ve ever seen one.
The beauty of it has my chest faltering. It’s a sudden swell, overwhelmed by its brilliance. It’s Tia there in the sky, wrapped within the setting sun.
Then something in my mind shifts, clicking in place as satisfying as fitting a puzzle piece.
What I’m doing now isn’t an escape. It’s a release in the highest form. And I’m running toward peace for the first time in my life, changing gears and seeing my life through a new lens.
I’m done running away. Now, I ride fast toward what I want.
Self acceptance. It’s there in the distance, ready for me to claim. I’ll get there. Maybe not tonight, but I’ll get there. I know it.
I might be on the edge of a breakdown, but the sight of an airplane flying overhead has me choking on a laugh. It rests perfectly against what I now call Tia’s sky. Perfectly her. Undeniably beautiful. Tears well in my eyes at the imagery of it.
I fly on my bike in tandem with the plane. I know where they’re going, and my unguarded smile breaks free for a fleeting moment as I lean heavier on the throttle. I won’t have to wonderwho they are. I imagine it’s us. And I won’t have to know if they’re happy.
Because I already know they are.
Chapter Thirty-Three
TIA
Every time the doorbell rings, Mom’s face lights up the same overflowing enthusiasm. The repetitive reaction has nothing to do with her illness, and everything to do with something I’ve always admired about her.
Simple joy.
“Coming!” she calls out, shaking the bright orange bowl filled to the brim with candy. Mom adjusts her tiny witch hat headband before opening the door to Wonder Woman, two out of four Ninja Turtles, and a ballerina.
“Trick or treat!” the group of tiny people shout in sugar-induced unison. I watch from a distance as my mom happily grabs handfuls of candy, dropping them into pillow cases and jack-o’-lantern buckets.
Dad sits idly by, sipping on the hot chocolate I fixed for us with extra marshmallows. We both smile at Mom’s unbridled happiness.
She’s had some really good days over the last few weeks since I’ve moved back to Oakwood Valley.
Mom and I go for short walks around the neighborhood, arm in arm, laughing about everything and nothing. I curate special menus that accommodate the diet her doctors recommend. Wereminisce a lot. I like to sift through old photo albums as Mom and Dad tell stories about Nora and I in the way they remember them.
Sometimes when Mom recalls something, it lands heavier in my chest than I expect. It’s like a light beam of hope every time I see slivers of herself shine through the broken cracks of her brain.
But then come the bad days. The grocery list with ingredients that are already in the pantry. The bittersweet smell of cinnamon and dough. The haunting Happy Birthday song.
The days I’m not Tia, but my big sister instead.
On those days, I encourage Mom to rest. Take naps and drink jasmine tea on the back porch with dad. They hold hands. He reads to her. I’m simply an observer, waiting in the wings to step in when I need to.
But today is a good day. Mom is happy handing out endless amounts of sugar to other people’s kids—uncaring about the consequences, much like the way a grandmother would spoil their grandchild.
