Underneath the Sycamore Tree

by B. Celeste

We tend to hold on to stories when we relate to them.”

“I find that the books with the saddest endings are the best because they make us feel. We don’t always get a happily ever after no matter how hard we work for it.”

I limit the amount of dairy and gluten I eat, but cheese pizza is my weakness just like any other person, and carbs are my one true soul mate.

We walk for what feels like forever until I see a large sycamore tree in the middle of a field of purple flowers. It seems out of place yet perfectly set at the same time.

Reality is ugly and painful and full of the kind of heartache that some books help you forget exist for a short period.

“I believe you, Emery. However, Kaiden has a way of getting under people’s skin one way or another. And unfortunately, he’s willing to take on an entire sports team for you.”

“Because we like books?” He lets me go down the staircase first because of the narrow structure. “Because we like them more than reality. It’s easier to lose yourself in fiction, right?”

I wonder if Lo is finally able to enjoy the sun without it hurting her skin.

What year are you? What’s your favorite subject? What are your future plans? Senior. English. Not to die.

There are lots of quotes about time. Time is fleeting. Time is valuable. Time shouldn’t be wasted. The trouble with time is that we only think we have it. It’s an illusion—an excuse to linger in existence. Some people use it to be reckless; others use it to hold themselves back.

You are my sunshine.

I’m sick of being selfless and understanding for the sake of everybody else’s sanity.

“No need to be jealous, Mouse. I’m all yours.”

I question a lot of things—God, the afterlife, what comes after death. Everything about never existing anymore terrifies me. What if we take our last breaths and then that’s it? What then?

“Healing doesn’t mean the damage never existed. It just means that it can no longer control our lives. I sincerely hope you remember that. I know a hurt soul when I see one, boy. You and Emery are one and the same, which means you’re also tough. It doesn’t matter what battle you’re fighting. It only matters that you’re willing to fight.”

People are afraid of the truth. They don’t want to accept that bad things happen to good people every single day. People struggle. People die. It’s life.

Strength doesn’t have a definition. We all have it. We just might not all think we do because it’s buried under layers of pain and depression and anxiety. The truth is you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.

I wake up to the caress of warm kisses down my shoulder and back from where I sleep on my stomach.

My nostrils flare. “You knew how I felt about him, Mama. I was so angry that he didn’t want us. Why would any mother think it’s okay for their children to feel that kind of hatred?”

I wasn’t the kind of feminine most people considered, but it didn’t change his mind about wanting to spend time with me or kiss me or watch movies with me.

He lets go and kneels in front of me. “I expect you to be at every game, Mouse.” His voice cracking has my heart doing the same, a big split right down the middle. “Best friends support each other. They’re there for each other.” The smile I grace him with is genuine. “I promise I’ll be at every single one.”

Then it happens. The fucking sunshine. The dispersing clouds. The rainbow. Once upon a time, I’d been told by a girl full of hope that her twin sister looked down at her from the sky. I thought it was bullshit. As much bullshit as the damn song she loved listening to that I can’t stand hearing when it comes on. But there it is.

I stare up at the sun. “Yeah. A miracle.” I think about the two matching headstones underneath the sycamore tree in Bakersfield while staring up at the sun beaming down on my teammates.

The very first mouse I drew for her is resting in front of me. Brushing my fingers against the aged paper, I manage to smile before clearing my throat and putting all of them back into the jar. There’s a note from Mom. Henry found these in Emery’s room. He said you’d want them. Palming my face, I take the jar to my room and place it on my dresser. The Valentine’s card I got for her is resting there too, something I grabbed before I moved.