Page 109 of Keepsake
Lark
P.S. Please tell Zach that his letters are perfect. They lift me up completely. I’m not quite ready to write him yet, because I haven’t sorted my emotions well enough to make any damn sense. But every letter makes me want to give him a big squeeze. —L
Dear Lark,
It’s almost Christmas. Daphne is home on break, and she’s decided she’s speaking to me again. It may have something to do with whomever she’s texting all day long. She smiles at her phone like she just won the lottery.
The Shipleys got a big tree and set it up in the corner of the dining room. It smells fantastic.
Did I ever tell you that my first Christmas was just four years ago? We didn’t have Christmas at the ranch, because there’s no mention of celebrating Christmas in the bible. (Did I also mention that the people who raised me didn’t know how to have fun?)
I’m taking the social studies GED test right after New Year’s. It’s not that hard, although this is the first time I’ve had homework since I was a kid. I’d avoided this because I thought it would make me feel like a dunce. But it hasn’t. Instead, I’m thinking—heck, I can do this. Why did I think I couldn’t do this?
Next task: Christmas shopping. For the Shipleys I always get something tasty that they wouldn’t buy for themselves. Last year I bought imported chocolates and champagne for Christmas. But now May doesn’t drink and Audrey brought a bunch of chocolate home from France.
So I need a new idea. Like, yesterday.
I know I told you not to write to me. But if you are suddenly struck with a great idea for what to buy them, please feel free to shout it out. I feel like Harry Potter trying to pick out a gift for all the Weasleys.
Love,
Zach
32
Lark
Sometimes the endof a stage in your life doesn’t announce itself with trumpets or fireworks. Sometimes it just seeps in, like the smell of snow on the air as fall gives way to winter.
When I began to feel like myself again, it was a gradual thing. My mind began to become preoccupied with ideas that didn’t have anything to do with Guatemala. And in therapy I stopped arguing with my doctor.
I didn’t notice the change until I began to getbored. I started choosing movies without any fear that they’d trigger me. (Although they sometimes did.) I began to surf the web, looking for jobs and ideas. My dragons took long naps on their chains and forgot to frighten me with their fiery roar.
Then one day I picked up my phone and impulsively touched May’s number.
Maybe if she hadn’t answered, another month would have gone by before we spoke. But that’s not what happened. The moment after I touched the button, she said hello right in my ear.
“Hi,” I said, startled at my own nerve. “It’s Lark.”
“Hi sweetie,” she said, sounding every bit as warm and familiar as I would have hoped. “How are things with you?”
“They’re better,” I admitted. “I know it’s true, because I’m more bored than scared.”
She laughed. “Okay? That could be a good sign, right?”
“Trust me, it is. What have you been up to?” The question sounded frustratingly stilted to my own ear. I really did understand why she’d been worried about things getting weird between us, because that would be an unparalleled disaster.
“Studying for finals. AA meetings. It’s a laugh a minute with me. But we’ve also been planning Griff and Audrey’s wedding.”
“Yeah? What are they going to do?”
“An outdoor farm shindig in June.”
“Nice. In the orchard? What’s the rain contingency?”
“They’ll rent a tent, but there’s no indoor option.”
“Risky!”
