Speechless

by Lindsey Lanza

Someday you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. -C.S. Lewis

Fairy tales are so enchanting because they end as soon as everything becomes perfect.

Control the controllable. Look on the bright side. Find the silver lining.

His music cures my anxiety, and it always helps to ease my pain when my meds aren’t enough.

She’s quite lovely. Beautiful, really. But not like the women I usually meet. There’s a sweetness emanating from her, like I can actually sense her compassion.

Songs have been written about much less. Suddenly she is a song, something in E with lots of trills. Maybe I’d call it Esme. I hear it so clearly, a melody heavy with melancholy but ending with a high note, maybe a— “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?”

But I have no idea how to approach a woman.

She should definitely be able to hear me alright from here, well, depending on how loud the volume is on those headphones she’s wearing. “Hello, erm, hi.” I did it. I spoke to her. I didn’t freeze. This is marvelous! Shit. She can’t hear me. I wave my hand around like some lunatic to get her attention.

Mental note to read whatever Throne of Glass is.

I’ve been at a loss for words millions of times in my life, but this is different. She’s a . . . fan?

“I’m actually quite glad I got to switch seats. I wanted to, erm, apologize for earlier, in the airport. Sometimes I have trouble finding my words and, well, you caught me off guard.” He smiles shyly and brushes a fallen curl from his brow. He looks . . . apprehensive?

“I’m Lucy Gold. Nice to meet you, airport stranger.” I offer a grin. He takes my hand in his. “Henry Turner.”

You’re really the Henry Turner?” I show him my playlist with over fourteen hours of his scores. “This is all yours?” “I’d prefer if you just called me Henry, although The Henry does have a nice ring to it. I’ll have to discuss with my team when I get home.”

I’ll have to write something special for you when I get home.”

Every time he speaks it feels important, like he chooses each word with care. It must seem like the complete opposite listening to me, the girl who never stops talking. Even when he stutters, his words seem meaningful.

This is the longest conversation I’ve had with a stranger in maybe my entire life. It feels incredible.

How is this possible? How am I randomly meeting this woman who can somehow see into my brain?

It feels like we met today for a reason, like I’m somehow meant to help her through whatever it is she’s dealing with. Or maybe nothing’s meant to be and I just want to help her.

Suddenly, they’re all belting out “Lucy, welcome home” in perfect harmony. Henry walks in with our luggage, and I can tell he’s angry. He did tell at least one of them on the phone to “make themselves scarce.”

“It stands for Henry’s Australian and American Musicians.”

At first glance, my new life looks like the start of a romance novel. Girl starting over after a devastating breakup suddenly winds up living in a mansion with five gorgeous men. One who happens to be the celebrity crush she never knew she’s had for years! Sounds like something I’d read, even though I’ve never been a fan of writing anything based in reality.

Maybe this is just my really weird epilogue. Well, Lucy didn’t get the happily ever after she was hoping for, but hey, she’s still having adventures and her new roommates are hot! God, it sounds more like fanfiction. Maybe that’s the best I can hope for at this point.

“So, you really just went up to her? Had a whole conversation?” “Yeah, I know, I’m surprised too. It’s not that big of a deal. Just let it go.” “It is a big deal. It’s a really big fucking deal, mate.”

There’s a level of intimacy here I’ve never felt before and I can sense my heartbeat quicken. I can’t look away from her face.

Graham was my dealer, Lucy. He got me weed and Xanax when my prescriptions ran out, and anything else he could find to help with my anxiety.

“Excuse me, was it not just last week you said, and I quote, ‘Dessert is the best part of every meal. But it’s a million times better when you can eat it in your PJs, on the couch, wrapped in a warm fluffy blanket’?”

“You’re special.” I wait for the punchline but nothing comes. Then I notice his subtle nod, like he’s doubling down on the statement, leaving no room for discussion.

“I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Lucy’s been staying here for over a month now. It may seem fast to Graham, but it’s already the longest relationship I’ve had with a woman, platonic or otherwise.

My world, my tiny, insignificant little world is unequivocally better with her in it.

I’m sick of being Hermit Henry, of watching my housemates have lives outside of our work, lives that I lust after. I’ve spent all my life knowing I’d never be normal: friends, love, family; none of it was possible for me. But what if that’s not the whole truth?

Henry is the opposite of Graham when it comes to teaching styles. He’s so patient with me, so encouraging no matter how many times I fall. And he never yells weird Australian obscenities that I can barely comprehend.

Besides the minor flare-up my first week here, my endometriosis has been basically silent. I can’t remember a time when I’ve gone this long without needing my pain medicine or my Warmies time with Rowan. I can’t remember a time when I went more than one week.

“So, I finished Throne of Glass.” She swiftly turns her gaze from the sky to me, eyes wide. “What? You actually read it? Just the first one? It gets so much better the further you get in the series. Like a million times better.” “Yes, I think you mentioned that once. But no, I read them all. I finished the series.”

I think you like him because of all the men in the books, he’s the only one she can truly be herself with. She never has to pretend to be something else, and he loves her no matter what, even when she’s well, you know, on a murderous rampage?”

“But you are special, Luce. You are my anomaly.”

You are my anomaly. It’s not exactly a romantic sentiment, but man did it feel like one. It felt like Henry was calling me his soulmate.

I keep trying to pinpoint what’s made me so happy here in Malibu. The weather? Surfing? Sharing these magical moments with Henry? Spending an entire month pain-free? Maybe it’s just feeling like I might finally be enough.

But what I also want to know, if I’m being honest, is what he looks like naked. And this I’ve probably thought about the most.

My attraction to him isn’t one-sided. I can’t just keep pretending I have some silly crush. Being with Jack might have stunted my maturity for the last ten years but I’m a grown woman, and I know what I want. I want Henry.

I’m not sure what you did to get him out of his shell, but having him join in when we have dinner or just chill at the pool, it’s really nice. I’m finally getting to know him. He’s like, surprisingly funny.”

Having her here with me in the studio has become a luxury; just her presence brightens up the room I spend my life in, the one that used to feel like a cave.

I don’t get dolled-up often, but I know this isn’t exactly my best look. “You do. You look vibrant. Like the sun. Like everyone else is just orbiting around you.”

“Do you understand how important you are to me? Being just friends might not be my first choice, but it doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to make you happy. I’d sell my soul to see you smile.”

You are all I think about, Luce. You’re my favorite person.

“You’re my perfect.”

“Jesus, now we’re punished for taking the fucking pill? Can women have one thing? Just one?”

But I’m starting to realize that finding the perfect partner or having the perfect family isn’t an ending at all. It’s more like the prologue. What happens next is the story. And I’m finally feeling like my story isn’t over, that maybe it hasn’t even begun.

“But under the rainbow, that’s how I feel when I’m with you. Like the storm has just ended and I can finally see the sun. You’re my fairy tale, Luzu.”

“And if I’m going to play Jayce’s silly little game, if I had to play you, I’d have you in the crook of my neck, with my arms wrapped around you, and I’d pluck you gently, with purpose.”