Chapter 7

I had a year to ferret out my feelings, to try to understand what had shifted in me, but to no avail. I had worried all year about every angle, every "what if,"

What if he had no feelings other than responsibility for me?

What if I'm just a kid to him?

What if my feelings make him not come back?

What if he never comes back, my God, what if he never comes back.

My fear froze me to my core and stopped me dead in my tracks every single time. I wouldn't survive without him. He was the very core of me.

What if I didn't survive his abandonment?

I found today to be probably the hardest May 8th yet, except for the first one. I felt so unsettled. I was drastically changed. Was he? I felt vulnerable and exposed and wanted nothing more than to run and hide.

I used early choir practice as an excuse to skip the cemetery with a promise to go with Aunt and Uncle after school and then to the diner for dinner.

I stayed inside all day, hiding in the library and gym.

Mike had been in sports for years and I had taken up jogging with him in the mornings to give us time to talk and be together without everyone staring—friends.

After school, I ran six miles to a forested lake outside of town. As I walked out of the shade of the woods into the light glimmering off the windblown water, I dropped my backpack and collapsed onto the soft grass.

I purposely sat near the forest edge, giving him a refuge in the trees.

"I know you're there," I said.

Only the lapping of the water and the wind in the trees could be heard.

"I didn't go to the cemetery today. I was scared of what I'd find, of what I wouldn't find," I said.

I heard a shuffling behind me and knew I was being heard.

"I'm scared that New York didn't change things for you. It did for me, Edward. Something shifted and I feel—more. I don't know what it is, but my greatest fear is that you don't feel it too. So I hid from you today and I ran here to let you know why." I finished.

I heard a footstep behind me.

"Please don't, just stay where you are," I said, proud that my voice quivered just slightly.

I continued, "I know you've seen my journals. I've been keeping them to read to you someday. I think today is someday, Edward."

I reached over and unzipped my backpack. I pulled out eight Composition notebooks tied together in a thick grosgrain ribbon.

"I'm going to leave them here. I wrote every word for you so that you could know me. They were always yours."

I stood and without looking back, I left the lakeside.

I had always adored him, needed him, felt as though he stood with me in the secret places of my heart. It had slowly shifted to a friendship, special, precious to be treasured and savored. But now, it was as if I heard a click as my heart settled into a different understanding.

As I jogged home, there was a stillness in my being. The ball was now in his court. He would return to me or he wouldn't. There was nothing I could do to make him feel or do what I needed. He wasn't an average guy. This was uncharted territory for both of us.

The procrastination of the day caught up with me when I returned home. Aunt Renee packed us off to the cemetery as soon as I walked through the door. There were no flowers on their graves and my heart stopped and sank.

He was gone.

For the first time in my life, I threw my body prostrate on my parents' graves and cried. There was no anger to pull me back this time, only sorrow. Sorrow to the very marrow of my bones raked through me.

They were gone. I was alone—forever—alone.

I don't know how long I cried, but my Aunt and Uncle did not stop me.

When I was down to sniffs and hiccoughs, Aunt Renee sat down beside me, wrapped her arms around me and rocked me. She hummed quietly as the light of the day began to fade. After a while, Uncle Charlie sat down on my other side and wrapped his jacket around us. We sat until the street lights came on along the drive.

Taking our cue, we stood and mutely returned to Uncle Charlie's car. We opted for drive-thru food over the noisy diner and ate huddled together on the couch watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune.

I kissed each one on the cheek before climbing the stairs, changing my clothes and collapsing numbly into bed.

~Edward~

That night after she'd gone to bed, I place one perfect rose on the pillow next to her and in its petals held the charm of a Composition book.

I slid this year's journal out from between her mattresses before sitting at her tiny desk. I wrote as much of my heart as I was allowed in hopes that she would understand that our love had not altered, only deepened. In her youth, she was still unsure of her path, which resigned me to remain in the periphery of her life, if not her heart.

I smiled as she rolled and made a little snort, and reread my entry:

My Beloved Bella,

I felt the shift, the— 'more' when I witnessed you dancing in the arms of another. Be sure your feelings are not singular, my love.

"You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting."

― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

I will carry you with me until our next anniversary. Please be happy in my absence.

Your Edward

I slowly closed the book and gently slid it back in its sanctified spot. I bent, placing my lips softly on her forehead, brushing back a strand of hair from her cheek before exiting through the window, not unlike the boy who never grew up.