Seven Days in June

by Tia Williams

While she’d admit to being a damn good mom and a capable novelist, Eva’s true talent was her ability to push weird shit aside and get on with life.

“No matter how perilous the journey, it’s never over for true soul mates. Who doesn’t want a connection that burns forever, despite distance, time, and curses?”

I’m an alien, Eva thought. She’d always felt as if she were impersonating a human, and she accepted it. But she’d never stop fantasizing about being unsick.

Eva and Audre stood out because (a) Eva was a decade younger than the other moms; (b) she was single; and (c) Audre had a Black mom and a Black father, as opposed to her dad being Jewish or Vietnamese. Or a woman.

By virtue of being a woman, she’s stronger. Girls are given the weight of the world, but nowhere to put it down.

The girl had been irresistible. This woman was something else entirely.

Her teenage fury had morphed into something else: power.

“You were just trying to survive,” said Shane. “When you’re drowning, you’ll do anything to get air.”

“You burst into my solitude, demanding to be seen. You were overwhelming. Just wild and weird and brilliant, and I never had a choice. I liked everything about you.

“No one was supposed to read Cursed. I wrote it for myself, to get over you. I cast myself as a superhero to give me strength I didn’t feel. And made you a useless fuckboy, because I’m petty. But it turned into a career, and I’m stuck with us.”

“I’m not just writing about you,” said Shane. “I’m writing to you.”

Back in the dark ages, when his loneliness was like quicksand, when he’d ruin himself to make it stop—and the only bright spot in all of this was loving a beautiful girl with demons ferocious enough to slay his own.

You two were teen lovers? Secret soul mates who were so inspired by each other that you’ve been communicating through your art across miles, decades, and years of impassioned memories?”

She’d forgotten the way they existed in each other’s space. That old current was still there, buzzing in the air between them.

Shane was her lighthouse. If he went dark, she’d be lost, treading black water forever.

“I love you,” said Shane. “Dramatically, violently, and forever.”

How do you finish a love story that you . . . you never wanted to end?”

And maybe that was what real, adult love was. Being fearless enough to hold each other close no matter how catastrophic the world became. Loving each other with enough ferocity to quell the fears of the past.

Loving you never ends. Whether you’re Genevieve or Eva. Whether I lose you for years or wake up to your face every morning. I love you. You’re my home. And I want you forever.”