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“Maktub,”
‘it is written.’
Everything in life happened for a reason, happened exactly how it was meant to, no matter how painful it seemed. Some love stories were meant to be forever, and others just for a season. What Mari had forgotten was that the love story between a mo...
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Love.
The emotion that made people both soar and crash. The feeling that lit humans up and burned their hearts. The beginning and ending of every journey.
I’m tired, Lucy.
“If you leave my sister right now, you don’t get to come back. You don’t get to call when you’re drunk or check in when you’re sad. When she beats this cancer—which she will—you don’t get to step back in and pretend you love her. Do you understand?”
“He’ll miss you. He’ll miss you while you’re alive and healthy, and he’ll miss you when you’re a part of the trees. He’ll miss you tomorrow, and he’ll miss you when you become the wind brushing against his shoulder. The world’s going to miss you, Mari, even though you’ll still be here for many years to come. The second you’re better, we’re going to open our flower shop, okay? You and me, we’re going to do it.”
“Air above me, earth below me, fire within me, water surround me…”
How could someone so beautiful be so ugly at times?
I witnessed her heart break right in front of me. Completely and unapologetically, she began to fall apart. A wave of emotion filled those gentle eyes, and she didn’t even try to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks. She allowed her feelings to overtake her fully, not resisting the tears and body shakes. I could almost see it—how she placed the entire world on her shoulders, and how the world was slowly weighing her down. Her body physically bent, making her appear much smaller than she was as the hurt coursed through her. I’d never seen someone feel so freely when it came to emotions,
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She was the girl who felt everything, and I was the man who felt nothing at all.
I realized I’d come face to face with my polar opposite, and I didn’t have a clue what else to say to a stranger as strange as her.
Without writing, my world would be filled with loss. Without words, I’d be shattered.
“Welcome to the world, Talon.”
Then, for the first time in my presence, Talon Russell opened her eyes.
The ‘who’ part was easy. It was the reason that was blurred.
“Wow,” Lucy said, a tiny smile on her lips. “She definitely has your frown.” I chuckled, making her turn my way. “I’m sorry, did you just…” She pointed a finger at me and poked me in the arm. “Did Graham Russell just laugh?”
“Perhaps I’m one of those novels where you have to keep turning the page until the very end to understand the meaning.”
“But here’s a clue for dealing with Mr. Russell: he doesn’t say much with his mouth, but he tells a full story with his eyes. If you watch closely, his eyes will tell you the complete story of how he’s feeling. He’s truly an open book if you learn how to read his language, and when I asked him about you, he said you were fine, but his eyes told me he was thankful for you. Lucy, girl with the brown doe eyes, Graham thinks the world of you, even if he doesn’t say it.”
“You are loved, Talon. I promise to always take care of you. I promise to be better for you.”
“I’ll finish once I get home.”
“Why am I staring at a twelve-by-twelve-foot painting of your naked boyfriend?”
“Just because you smile and act free doesn’t mean the cage doesn’t exist. It merely means you lowered your standards for how far you’ll allow yourself to fly.”
“Ollie, you’re forgetting your flowers,” I called after him. He turned back to me and shook his head. “No, ma’am. A friend of mine asked me to stop in to pick out those for you. I asked him some characteristics about you, and that is the creation that came to be.” “Graham
“I felt anger. I felt so much anger at him. He looked at you as if you were unworthy of his attention. He insulted your clothing all night long as he introduced you to people. He discussed you as if you’re not good enough, and for the love of God, he gawked at other women whenever you turned your back to him. He was insensitive, rude, and a complete idiot.”
“He was a complete idiot for thinking you weren’t the most beautiful woman in that room. Yeah, I get it, Lucille—you’re a hippie weirdo and everything about you is loud and outlandish, but who is he to demand that you change? You’re a prize of a woman, rose petals in your hair and all, and he treated you as if you were nothing more than an unworthy slave.”
The woman who felt everything leaned in closer to the man who felt nothing at all. For a split second in time, I felt a little of her pain while she encountered my coldness, and neither one of us seemed to mind.
“Catching me before I hit the ground.”
“Being left behind hurts.”
Sorry for misleading you last night. I’m a jerk. Here’s some medicine and breakfast to make up for me making you feel like shit this morning. -Johnnie Walker
“Well, it seems he’s making a garden.”
“You asked me to make a garden,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “So I’m making you a garden.” My heart. It exploded. “You’re making a garden? For me?” “You’ve done plenty for me,”
“A smart woman once told me I was a shitty human, and I’m trying my best to be a little less shitty.”
God, I hated that man. Too bad he was my best friend.
I couldn’t stop giggling at how ridiculous and uncomfortable Graham looked. His face was so stern, and when Toby made Graham pop his butt out, I had tears rolling down my cheeks from laughter.
“Says the man who does camel as a sex position. What do you do exactly? Do you just sit on your knees and like”—I thrust my hips—“do this repeatedly?” I kept making the humping motion, which turned Graham’s face even redder than it had been during the class. “Lucille.” “Yes?” “Stop humping the air.”
“Exactly.”
Lucy looked beautiful. She was wearing a yellow dress with tulle underneath the skirt that made it flare out. Her makeup was sparse except for the apple red lipstick that matched her high heels. Her hair was braided up with daisies threaded throughout, like a crown.
“I started gardening.”
“Lucy Palmer happened.”
“She’s my complete opposite,” I told him. “Lucille is such an odd character, a freak of nature. She’s clumsy and always speaks out of turn. Her hair’s always wild, and her laughter is at times annoying and too loud. Everything about her is disastrous. She’s nothing more than a mess.”
And yet, I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to be an odd character, a freak of nature. I wanted to stumble and laugh out loud. I wanted to find her beautiful disaster and mix it together with my own mess. I wanted the freedom she swam in, and her fearlessness of living in the moment. I wanted to know what it meant to be a part of her world. To be a man who felt everything. I wanted to hold her, but still have her move freely in my arms. I wanted to taste her lips and breathe in a part of her soul as I gave her a glimpse of mine. I didn’t want to be her friend—no. I wanted to be so much
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This life is short, and you never know how many chapters you have left in your novel, Graham. Live each day as if it’s the final page. Breathe each moment as if it’s the final word. Be brave, my son. Be brave.”
“Which way do we go to get to the cabin?” “What?” “I said which way do we go? To visit your mother’s tree?”
“Lucille Hope Palmer.” “Yes, Graham Michael Russell?”
“Being around you does something strange to me, something that hasn’t happened in such a long time.” “What happens?” He took my hand in his then led it to his chest, and his next words came out as a whisper.
“My heart begins to beat again.”
“I’m gonna miss him, too.”
The hardest part of life was watching a loved one walk straight into fire when all you could do was sit and watch them as they burned.
