Page 51 of Never Stop
"Are you okay, V? I didn't even know any of this. She called and said it was an emergency, and we needed to talk to you immediately, so I came."
I can't help but stifle a small laugh. That doesn't surprise me one bit. I nod to Dessa, "Yeah, I'm good."
"Catch me up on everything later when the hot head out there calms down, and you have some time to collect your thoughts, okay?"
I nod, and she pulls me into a firm squeeze.
As she walks out of the room, she calls back over her shoulder, "I see the creepy ass flowers. Clark still hasn't given up?"
"UGH!" I shout, and she laughs as she closes the front door to the house behind her.
After the door closes, I examine what Izzy placed in my hand. It's an envelope. Nothing fancy. Just a white envelope.
Fuck me.
I hear Izzy's car pull out of the driveway, so I take the envelope and head into the kitchen. I stare at the counter, contemplating my life and my decisions until now.
I replay a conversation that Dr. Carr and I had a while back. It was about choices. I forget her exact words, but she pointed out the simplicity of making a choice.
Each choice that you make in life has a path attached to it. The courses aren't always clear when the choices are made. That's the thing: when I chose to put distance between Ander and me, I also knew my chosen path. I was sure it was the path we needed to take. Separately.
I just never expected that our paths would intertwine once again.
I stare at the counter, debating whether eleven thirty in the morning is too late for coffee or too early for wine. Unsure of which is the correct answer, I hesitantly side with caffeine over alcohol. After I fix my extra large mug of dark brew with just a dash of creamer, I sit at the kitchen table. The mysterious envelope is right in front of me.
Downing a sip of coffee, I rip off the small piece of tape and figure out what this damn envelope is about.
I pull the flap open from inside to reveal its contents. Instantly, I see old photographs, and my breath hitches momentarily.
I know these images. These are mine. Well, theseweremine. It's an envelope full of photos from my old Nikon film camera that Ander bought me. Pictures that I never developed. I got Izzy to give him all of the cameras back after the funerals. I never realized there were still images on there. I never would have thought or expected him to develop them, much less hold on to them for all these years.
I attempt to catch my breath and start sorting through them each, one by one. A smile pulls at my lips, and tears run down my cheeks as I relive the memories before me.
Photos of the beach. Pictures of our field and our tree. Photos of Ander playing guitar. A photo of Natalie running through the sand with the wind blowing her unruly hair. There are even a few photos of me that Ander must have taken that I never knew about. I run my finger over them, and I grieve that young, free-spirited, and naive girl I once was. She was a girl who constantly got pushed down but never let anything keep her down. She always got back up. A girl whose spirit may have felt damaged, but it was still strong, and she was a fighter—a girl who loved a boy so deeply that her heart could never love another.
I miss that little girl. Her life was never necessarily easy, but she handled it gracefully and didn't crumble at the infliction of pain. Not like the woman I am now apparently does.
Exhaling a deep breath, I place the photos back in the envelope and set it aside. Below the photographs, there is a folded piece of paper. Bracing myself, not sure what to expect, I open it slowly. Written across the page, large and bold, it reads:
Take all the time you need. Please don't take six years, and please don't shut me out again. Not now.
A chill spreads through my body, and I can't stop the smile on my face and inside my heart.
I've never wanted Ander to fight to stay in my life. It was simpler that way, but he always did. To see that he's still trying to… The little girl inside of me, the one that fell in love with her best friend, can't help but let out a childish giggle filled with giddiness that I have no business feeling.
I'm not sure what to do with that emotion. I sit with those questionable feelings for a beat. I'm replaying Izzy, and I's an argument over again in my head. She's feistier than I am, so I know she was holding back from me. We've had arguments before, obviously. We've been friends our entire lives and are both pretty good at voicing our feelings. Izzy is more forthcoming with hers. She doesn't hold back, except when it comes to me. I hate that she feels like she has to. I hate that everyone around me feels like I'm a fragile piece of antique glass they must handle carefully. However, I appreciate that she cares enough to consider my feelings. That isn't lost on me.
I power on my phone, pull up the texts, type a simple "Thank you" message, and hit send.
Izzy texts back immediately as if she were waiting, but there's no actual message. It's just the contact info she shared forAnderson Cole.
"Wow, that's really slick of you,"I respond, and I can't help but laugh and roll my eyes.
***
I sat there for far too long, staring at the damn screen as if the answer of what to do next would magically slap me in the face.
Long enough to say fuck it.
