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“‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.’”
Do you know what generational trauma is?” “It’s when one group of people goes through something bad,” Sal said. “And then it affects the next generations too.”
You are more than the sum of your parts, but your past is still that: yours. I wouldn’t presume to take something from you that you might not want to give up, even if it’s painful to think about.
“But I believe the greatest weapon we have at our disposal is our voices. And I am going to use my voice for you, and for me. Hate is loud. We are louder.”
“I’ve never left them before,” Arthur whispered. “I didn’t expect it to be so hard.”
“Leaving is never easy,” Linus said, laying his forehead against Arthur’s back. “But knowing they’ll be waiting for us to come back will make it that much sweeter when we do.”
Arthur turned and gathered Linus up in his arms. “It’s as if I’ve l...
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“Let them listen to what joy sounds like. Maybe they’ll learn a thing or two.”
“When we live in fear, it controls us. Every decision we make is smothered by it.
“Ah,” Arthur said. “Clear as mud.” “Yes, yes,” Linus said, distracted. “It’s the government. What do you expect? Transparency is a fanciful lie they tell constituents to distract them from the truth.
“Because we understand how the minds of men work. Give them a little smile, touch their arm, hang on their every word, and they believe they’re God’s gift to women.”
“That’s the funny thing about those in power. They underestimate everyone beneath them, even knowing their secrets are heard by someone.”
Words matter, yes, but actions matter even more. Anyone can say anything they wish, but it’s the follow-through that’s important. Correct?”
“Even now,” Linus said firmly. “And tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. All the days we have left. You, Arthur. I choose you.”
When Linus smiled, Arthur was reminded of the sun, of a blinding light coming to chase the darkness away. Such a lovely fellow, with his sturdy heart and fierce loyalty. Arthur hoped he would be enough for such a man.
“Confidence is silent. Insecurities are loud.”
They live on in my memories, kept tucked away for the days I need to be reminded that my history, while difficult, began with people who loved me. While it doesn’t negate all that followed, it can be a balm to a weary soul.”
If you go into a situation expecting the worst, it may cloud your ability to see what good can come from it.”
Trust, Arthur knew, was a treasure effortlessly stolen, often without rhyme or reason. And this particular treasure was a fragile thing, a piece of thin glass easily broken. But here was David, surrounded by strangers in an unfamiliar place, attempting to pick up his pieces and put them back into a recognizable shape. Whatever else he was, David’s bravery in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds proved yet again what Arthur had always believed: magic existed in many forms, some extraordinary, some simple acts of goodwill and trust, small though they might be.
“Happy tears aren’t sad tears, even if they look the same.”
Lucy tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s hard.” “What is?” “Being alive.” “It is,” Arthur agreed. “But perhaps that’s the point: the trials and tribulations of life weigh heavily upon us, but we find people to help lighten the load.
It came out sounding rather snappish, and an apology attempted to follow, but he kept it from spilling from his mouth. He couldn’t always apologize when things turned slightly uncomfortable—a habit he still found himself struggling to overcome, a by-product of being under the thumb of DICOMY.
He said it’s okay to not be okay, so long as it doesn’t become all we know.”
Lucy nodded. “And I’ll open up a dimensional doorway in the fabric of reality and send her to a place where even demons fear to tread. What is this evil place, you might be asking? Great question!” He spread his hands wide in a practiced display of showmanship. “It’s called … Florida.”
“A great man once said stories of imagination upset those without one.
He held out his hand, the ring flashing in the light. He caught himself staring at it every now and then, marveling over how heavy it was for such a small thing, a constant reminder that he was loved.
“And yet, studies have shown that trauma in the form of abuse changes the physical brain to be hypersensitive to future stress, which can often lead victims of abuse to respond excessively to even the smallest stressors. By doing the exact opposite of nurturing, one runs the risk of creating or exacerbating trauma.”
“No. I wouldn’t. Even with all I’ve been through, with all I’ve seen, I wouldn’t want to be anything other than what I am. If I had to do it all over again just to arrive at this very moment, I would. Over and over again.”
