As I taste his tears on my tongue, I realize that love is strange. It can be mad, and it can be a cruel sort of chaos. It can be violent and terrible and damaging. That part I’ve understood, since I was a kid. What I didn’t get was that…it’s okay. It doesn’t matter how awful it is. There is no right way to love. There’s no wrong way, either, not really. It’s out of our hands. Love is love, and it meets people exactly where they’re at. Ella met me, and I her. And the both of us met my brother, and I know that Jeremiah and Sid met one another, too. As much as I might hate that, I can’t fight it.
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