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Dad has cancer. It’s bad. Really bad. And I don’t think I’m going to make it, Coy. I’m terrified. You told me on the Fourth of July that you would always be here for me. I need you. Please call me.
One thing is also true: your life can’t be destroyed if you don’t allow people access.
“Now, I’m done fucking around with you,” I tell her. “You wanna fuck? Tell me when. You wanna fight? Please. Let’s. Tell me why you’re pissed. But I won’t do this guessing game with you anymore. Got it?”
“Life is made up of a web of experiences and emotions. They are the only two things we have in life no matter who you are, where you live, or what you do. You’re going to experience things, and you’re going to feel things.”
“The key to life—the key to everything—is who you choose to build your web around,”
“When I’m gone,” he says, starting again, “Bellamy will have no one. There will be no one to celebrate her birthdays.” His voice breaks once again. This time, it doesn’t find its rhythm. “There will be no one to make sure she makes it home after she stays out too long with Larissa. Nobody will make sure she goes to the doctor when she gets bronchitis in the fall or makes her chicken noodle soup without carrots. And that …” Tears stream down his cheeks in a quiet river. “That’s what keeps me up at night.”
Our relationship could be enemies-to-lovers, but it’s always heavy on the enemies and light on the lovers.
“If you ever need anything, you call me, and I’ll either talk to you, come home, or fly you to me,” I tell her. “You wanna fight, fuck, or flee your life for a while—I’m your man.”
“Loving someone is action. It’s communicating and compromising and working your ass off.
Life’s not meant to be lived in fear. It’s not meant to be lived alone either. It’s meant to be experienced. Life is meant to be lived, not survived. It’s for loving and fighting and complete mess-making. Life is for taking risks and winning and losing and learning. Thriving.
