Page 62 of From the Ashes
The first sound comes out in a broken, jagged gasp, a crack in the wall I’ve built for so long. I never liked being loud; I’m not sure I even know how to. My throat tightens, and my lungs feel like they’re caving in, but I keep going. I open my mouth, and it pours out of me, not just a yell, but a raw, primal scream that seems to rip apart the night.
How have I not heard myself pounding at the doors of my heart?
How come this stayed stuck in there all this time?
I fall on my knees, crying and laughing and smiling and sobbing, all at once. Emotions take over me. My hand covers my mouth while my shoulders bounce between each sob. I must seem delirious right now. But I don’t care. Hundreds of people could be staring at me right now, but I wouldn’t care. My dress is covered with leaves and dirt now. I spread my arms wide and shout one more time. This time, I don’t let the embarrassmentstop me from unfolding my anger. I shout, loud, so loud I didn’t know that I could make that sound. I’m shaking, but I don’t feel weak. I feel…lighter. After a few seconds, I breathe loudly, laughing while tears fall on my cheeks. My body slumps, like I’ve wrung myself out.This feels so good.I stay there, sat on the leaves, my knees under me, while I look at the city lights, exhausted after finally having said my piece to this world.
“I forgive you,” I whisper. But it’s not for him. It’s for me. I forgive myself for staying when I didn’t know that I could leave. I forgive myself for being weak because I couldn’t find enough strength in myself to stand up. I forgive myself because there’s no point not doing so. I did the best that I could, and whatever happens next, I need to find love in my heart for the Lana that I used to be. I need to love her too. Because she couldn’t know the things I do now.
“You did the best you could,” I say, talking to myself and putting my palms on my heart. “Look how far you’ve come, you’re okay now, everything is going to be okay,” I whisper to myself, then wipe my tears away and smile at the stars. Footsteps echo behind me, and then I feel a weight settling in my back, both of his legs surrounding me as I lean back into his chest, his arms hugging me tight, a soft kiss dropping on my hair.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“For what?” he asks gently, holding me.
“For everything.” For being here. For being my safe space. For seeing me. For being the man that I needed to find to learn to trust again.
“Can we get dessert now?” I ask, my belly roaring a bit.
“You’re crying.” His rough thumb wipes away a tear that had settled on my jaw.
“Happy tears.”
“There’s happy tears?”
“Yes.” I smile, my head angled to look at him. He kisses my forehead, my temple, and then the tip of my nose.
“Okay, but I’d rather see your gorgeous smile,” he says, then I feel his hand drifting to my belly, and the most unexpected thing happened. He starts tickling me. Or at least that’s what I think he’s doing.
“Carter! No! Stop!” I shout while laughing so loud my abs hurt. He keeps on going, the crease of his eyes forming deeper shapes. That’s now or never. I turn back to face him, both knees between his legs, and tickle him back on the stomach.
And here it comes.
The first smile he ever gave me.
Here.
Wide.
Genuine.
Warm.
I keep on going but it’s difficult because he is still tickling me too and while he simply chuckles I’m literally dead laughing in his arms.
“Please, please,” I plead, because I can’t take it anymore, and he stops, taking me in his arms, my hands on his jaw, our forehead connected.
“You smiled,” I whisper, bitting my lips. “You’re even more handsome when you smile.” I tell him, smiling too because this, right now, is monumental. And I know how much I have to cherish it. He’s out of breath, maybe a bit shocked by what he did. A four letter word dances in my mind, the moment so perfect I know this could only mean this. The way I feel about him has only grown with the months. Carter makes me want to experience more, to accept who I am, to be at peace with my past. He makes me long for breakfast with the three of us, listening to music while he makes coffee and I make pancakes.
“You made me smile with your sounds.”
“What sounds?” I fake consternation.
“This sound,” he says, tickling me once as I squeak in return.
“Okay, okay, stop now, please, I don’t think I can handle it anymore.” I giggle, shaking my head, giddy for this man. He’s hot and cold, but always warm for me.
Always kind.
