Page 92 of Grace & Henry's Holiday Movie Marathon
You do?
I do. Grace is just sad, though, like you, and she’s doing the best she can to get through the day. Tim is all in her head.
Seventeen freckles across her nose—from cheekbone to cheekbone. I counted them once. The tiny scar on her chin from a juniorhigh field hockey mishap. Her long fingers. Those eyes. How could I have forgotten these things?
Wait. Does that meanyou’reinmyhead?
She’s holding my painting in her lap now. She touches where the sky blends from yellows to grays.This is really good. I loved this about you—how you could make things like this.
Thanks. You should see Ian’s, though. It’s even better. I told you about him. He’s so talented, Brynn. Such a sweet kid.
You could really help him, you know. And I don’t just mean painting pictures of elves and reindeer. The world can be tough for boys like Ian.
I know.
Bella, too.
I think of the shoulder of my sweater, wet from her tears.
God, Henry, that little girl needs you so much. She’s struggling.
I know.
Brynn is fading again, like before, her edges blurring, and I hate it because I somehow know that this will never happen again. This is our goodbye.
Now, let’s talk about Grace.
Grace?
You could love her, you know.
But I love you.
She looks up—not at the ceiling, exactly, but beyond, the way we look at stars in the darkest part of nighttime.I know you do. But I’m gone, Henry. And Grace is here. And if you let yourself, you could love her. And even though she acts tough and would probably get along just fine without you, I think she could love you, too.
I don’t tell Brynn that I know this because I don’t want to hurt her feelings. I do know, though. I’ve felt it, the possibility of being with Grace, of loving her. I think of her Crocs and sweatpants and swear words and bitter beers. I think of the look she gave me on her phone after we watched Charlie Brown. Of her screaming into the cold, rushing water. Of her in her dress looking beautiful.
I’m so sorry, Brynn. I’m so sorry for—
I know you are, Henry.
You shouldn’t even have been on—
You need to stop thinking about that. I chose to be on that plane.
I hate that the last thing you thought was that I was being a dick.
She laughs, looks again at where the stars would be. She’s even more gone now, a ghost fading, and the side of my head has started to throb.How do you know what I was thinking?
Well, I was—
The last thing I thought was that I loved you.
Yeah?
I know you’ve worried about me—about what those last few minutes were like.
I have. Shit, Brynn. I’ve thought about it so much.
