Written in the Scars

by Adriana Locke

“We’ve talked about this day for years, Elin. Hell, even when I was fifteen, I knew I’d marry you one day.”

Elin’s mom used to say she and I had the same spirit. That’s why we were so drawn together. I didn’t correct her and say it was her daughter’s ass that initially drew in, but it was her sweet, selfless spirit that kept me.

The part of me that has been agitated for months is now soothed. Just being in the car with her is a balm to the wound that’s been seeping since before I walked out on her. She centers me, stills me, and I wonder how in the hell I let things get so out of control.

On a couch in a house I’m not quite welcome in—it’s the happiest place I’ve been in a very long time.

“Well, I’ve known you for a long damn time, and I want you more today than I did that day in the hallway outside of math lab.”

“You guys have been the only consistent thing in my life. Y’all have never turned your backs on me.” “We’re your friends, Cord,” I choke out. “Fuck that. You’re my family. The only family I have.”

I nod encouragingly, but my head isn’t there. Neither is my heart. Both are back on County Road 211 in a little white house with black shutters.

Just being in the same room with her, even if she’s not looking or speaking to me, is pretty damn close to heaven.

“We have to trust each other, lean on each other, communicate with each other. We’re no different than a team. We are a team,” I say. “If we don’t talk, if we sit the bench and refuse to play, we can’t win. And, Elin, baby,” I say, squeezing her for good measure, “if I don’t have you, there’s nothing to play for.”

“I have wanted you since the moment I saw you at your locker in eighth grade. From the moment I asked if you had any gum because I wanted to hear the voice of the girl that took my breath away. I’ve wanted you since that exact second, and I’ve never stopped.”

“I think it’s time for the rest of me to come home,” I say, kissing the top of her head. She yawns, her heartbeat evening out. “The rest of you?” “My heart was always here,” I whisper.

“Can you . . .” I say, sniffling, turning back around. “Can you tell them we love them? Tell Elin I love her, okay?”

“Sometimes family isn’t made by blood, Mrs. Whitt. Sometimes it’s a choice, and Mr. McCurry chose you.”