Reminders of Him

by Colleen Hoover

I take a drink of my coffee and close my eyes and cry because life can be so fucking cruel and hard, and I’ve wanted to quit living it so many times, but then moments like these remind me that happiness isn’t some permanent thing we’re all trying to achieve in life, it’s merely a thing that shows up every now and then, sometimes in tiny doses that are just substantial enough to keep us going.

I came here to turn him down, but I had no idea that he would be pointing all night, or that he would point at me. I had no idea pointing was sexy.

I wonder if I would have found it sexy five years ago, or if I’m pathetically easy to please now.

He put on a white T-shirt. So simple, but so complicated.

“I miss you all the time, even when we’re together.”

She’s gasping for breath, trying to wipe away the few tears that are beginning to form, and since I have no idea what the fuck to say, I just hug her.

I walk over to her and kneel. “D, you can’t take all the T-balls.” “They’re dragon eggs,” she says. “I’m going to plant them in my yard and grow baby dragons.” I toss the balls one at a time to Roman. “That’s not how dragons grow. The momma dragon has to sit on the eggs. You don’t bury them in the yard.” Diem bends forward to pick up a pebble, and I notice she has two balls stuffed down the back of her shirt. I untuck her shirt, and the balls fall to her feet. I kick them to Roman. “Did I grow in an egg?” she asks.

Choose your battles, they say. But what happens when you never choose any?

I love her imagination, but she definitely didn’t get it from Scotty. His mind was more concrete than a sidewalk.

So, you decide right now, right here. Are you gonna live

in your sadness or are you gonna die in it?”

lot of ways, it was the opposite. She wasn’t saying I would move past what I was feeling, or that things would get easier. She was telling me this was it—the misery I felt was my new normal. I could either learn to live with it or I could let it consume me.

I wasn’t about the simple life like he was,” I say to Patrick. “I remember, after I told him how important I wanted to be, he said, ‘I don’t want to be important. I don’t want the pressure. I want to slide under the radar like my dad, because when he comes home at night, he’s in a good mood.’”

“Pick something out. I’ll buy it for you.” “I don’t need anything.” “This isn’t about you. It’s about me, and I want to buy you something.”

Saying nothing when I want to say everything is probably my best bet for now.

“Regret keeps you stuck on pause. So does prison. When you get out of here, make sure you hit play so you don’t forget to move forward.”

“I don’t want to hear another word about the fucking cupcakes ever again.”

He smells like limes and bad decisions.

It’s strange, being involved in every facet of another human being, and then suddenly not knowing anything.

Maybe if I acknowledge all the good things, no matter how small, they’ll add up to make the bad things in my life less painful.

He loves her still. I guess realizing your life isn’t compatible with someone else’s doesn’t erase the feelings that are there.

I forgot what it felt like for someone else to need me. Want me. Like me.

Grudges are heavy, but for the people hurting the most, I suppose forgiveness is even heavier.

because what was the point? You were my whole point.

There was before you and there was during you. For some reason, I never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and I was in it. I’ll be in it forever.

We’d probably have two kids by now, or even three, and I’d more than likely be a teacher, or a nurse, or a writer, or whatever you would have undoubtedly given me the strength to realize I could be.

I wrap my arm around her shoulder and lead her to the bedroom. “Excuse us while we go coordinate our lies,” I say over my shoulder.

My father’s attention is still on Kenna. “What do you do, Nicole? Besides . . .” He waves a hand toward me. “Besides Ledger.”

“That’s what I’m here for. To tiptoe around this thing they call parenting.”

My heart rate speeds up because I don’t want it to be Ledger, but I need it to be Ledger.

watch him read it through the peephole, but his expression is unwavering. He looks right into the peephole and points down to the doorknob. Fuck. Why did he have to point?

“We go forward,” she says. “That’s it. It’s that simple. I forgive you and you forgive me, and we go forward together and give that little girl the best life we can give her. Okay?”

It’s myself I’ve been hard on. But I think I’ve reached the point that forgiving myself finally feels okay.

“Happiness looks good on you, Kenna.”