Page 79 of Next Time Will Be Our Turn
“Baby, slow down,” she said.
“There’s no other way. And I can’t leave you, Ellery. Not you. Never you. You saw my letters. You have always had a piece of my heart with you.”
“Tulip.”
“So you have to do it. You have to leave me.”
“No.”
“You did it before. You can do it again.”
“I won’t.”
I imagined my heart, soft and fleshy and vulnerable. I imagined it turning into steel, cold and hard. “You left me! You left me. I was in love with you, and you left. Just like that.”
“Don’t do this, Magnolia, I swear to god.”
“You’re good at leaving. So leave me again. Don’t DM me,don’t email me, don’t Like any of my social media posts. Just do what you’re good at doing and leave me.”
“Jesus,” she whispered. “You’re totally serious.”
“I am.”
“Look at me, Magnolia.”
I turned away, but she caught my chin between her thumb and index finger and turned me to face her.
“I love you,” she said. “Let’s work this out together.”
“There’s nothing to work out.” I was shaking with futile rage at the world. I let it lash out against her, knowing she would catch me. “I won’t risk losing Hazel.”
Ellery’s face was a picture of anguish. “Please, Magnolia, don’t do this.” She lowered her forehead to mine, our breath hot against each other’s cheeks. “Please don’t.” Her lips brushed against mine, soft at first. I kissed her back, long and deep, wanting to taste every bit of her. To sear every part of this into my memory. We clutched at each other, yanking our clothes off with reckless abandon. I wanted to inhale all of her, consume her, become one with her, and I sensed the same desperate need from her. I wanted to imprint the feel of her skin on mine. I wanted to memorize every second as we moved together, until we both reached that moment of impossible perfection.
When it was over, I made myself turn away from her instead of falling into her arms as usual. She reached out for me, but I shrugged off her hand. I stared at the wall and said, “Please leave now.”
“Tulip.”
I didn’t bother answering her. I kept my gaze trained on the wall. A tear slipped down the side of my face. I heard her choke back a sob. I heard her sit up, then stand up. The rustle of herclothes as she put them back on. Her receding footsteps. And still I didn’t turn around.
“Tulip,” she said again, soft and tired. “I will wait for you. Always.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth so I wouldn’t be tempted to answer. Only after the door opened and closed did I curl up into the fetal position and burst into hot, ugly, stomach-shaking tears.
• • •
There was an envelope slipped under the door the morning we were due to leave for Jakarta. On it, my name. I locked myself in the bathroom to have a bit of privacy before opening it. I raised it to my nose and inhaled. It smelled of the ocean and rosemary. Ellery. I swallowed the lump in my throat before opening it slowly, carefully, as though I were handling a newborn chick. Inside was a small piece of paper with a few short lines written on it.
A poem.
Tulip
The only way
for us to be together
is to trundle
slowly
