Page 262 of Eternal
I nod.
“You know how sometimes a song gets stuck in your head?” she says. “Not because it’s your favorite. Just because it’s been following you.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what love is,” she says. “It plays when you least expect it. When you’re scared, or alone, or tired of pretending you’re a pure result of brokenness and rage. That song is still there. Playing.Quiet. Waiting for you to listen.”
“I don’t have a song,” I whisper.
Kat smiles. “Maybe you’ve just been humming it this whole time without even knowing it.”
There’s a pause. The kind you can feel behind your eyes.
“You look tired,Visha,” she says.
I lean back into the headboard, and smile. “A few days ago… I saw this little girl buying a bouquet for her mom. It was cute.Really.”
Kat’s smile fades at the edges. She pulls the phone closer like proximity might help. “I know you hate talking about her. But that doesn’t mean she’s not still talking in your head.”
I breathe out, slow. “She’s dead. What’s left to say?”
Her voice is quieter now. “So much. Dead doesn’t mean done. Have you ever thought about writing her a letter? Or… even writing in her journal?”
A bitter laugh scrapes out. “You want me to trauma-dump on her trauma-dumping journal?”
She shrugs, soft. “Why not? You always think grief means silence. It doesn’t. All I want is for you to stop carrying it alone.”
There’s a pause. Then she says, “Just try it,Visha. You don’t have to make peace. Just make space.”
“…Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll try.”
She exhales, eyes closing like she’s already drifting. “I’m here. Always. You call me if you need anything okay? I’ll leave you. Love you.”
“Me too,” I say.
But she’s already gone. Didn’t hear it.
I stare at the black screen for a long time. The quiet feels too loud. I could take the keys. Throw on a hoodie. Go to the beach. Bring the wine. Bring the journal. Bring the cigarettes. Maybe write the letter. Maybe not. But at least… sit still with it.
Try.
So I did.
In minutes, I’m on my bike, messy hair, dry eyes, tired. A bottle of wine. Cigarettes. The journal. The blanket. And my pain.
76
AZRA
“I Was All Over Her” by Salvia Palth
Present
The beach is coming to view quickly and in a few moments, I’m parked there and start walking toward the shore. It’s not even that late. Eight, maybe eight-thirty. The sky was bleeding orange, dripping red into the waves.
It looked like God was trying to wash something off the canvas today.
I crack the bottle open. Drink some of it and breathe carefully.
