BLAKE
WITH A HUFF, I picked up the iPod and inserted the earbuds, a soft melody trickling into my ears. I’d never heard this song before, but I recognized Christina Perri’s voice immediately. She was one of Angel’s favorites. I closed my eyes and rested my head on Bertha, listening to her message. I knew that whatever song she’d chosen meant a lot to her.
The Words.
I imagined it was Angel singing to me in her sweet melody. Telling me how the rest of the world had disappeared for her and all she could see was me. The thought sent an ache to my heart. I curled into myself and resolved to stay strong through this.
I knew how loud it was inside her head because mine was noisy now, too. I’d tried to build up a wall around my heart to stop it from shattering, but the fucking thing was useless. She wanted me to let go of it. Let go of my reservations and my doubts, but I was scared shitless. How do I open myself up to possibly being mangled again? That’s what she was asking me to do—fall backward with trust. Saying if I did that it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Except it always held the possibility of it hurting worse than before. The truth was what always hurt us. Her truth that she kept so guarded. How could it not hurt us now?
I pinched the bridge of my nose, my throat a knotted ball of fire, my heart engulfed in flames as it struggled with the enormity of this. I’d walked my own personal hell on this journey as well, and it burned. But I was addicted to its heat, every moment of it another tattoo to my being.
Still your mind . . .
She was asking me to choose her.
The song got quiet, her voice telling me she knew how scary it would be for me to let go and trust her. A tear leaked from the edge of my eye. I was grateful to be alone right now. I needed to release the pent-up bad if I wanted to make room for the good. If I wanted to go home.
Ironically enough, she’d been home all along, in the center of my heart. That’s why it ached so fucking bad. God help me, I was scared. I was so god damned scared of what this would do to me if I just let go.
A strong wind rustled Bertha’s leaves, freeing another strand. It flitted to the ground, landing to my left, in the very spot I’d found Angel crumpled in a ball in the dusk the morning she said goodbye.
A chill crept down my spine at the memory. I rose and walked the couple of feet before squatting down. I skimmed my hand through the blades, drawing in the heartache she’d deposited there.
The last of my pieces is in the spot where I broke apart in the first place.
The words from her letter repeated in my mind as I searched the area. Sure enough, I spotted something white poking out. I gathered it and made my way back to the tree.
I pushed my hand into my pocket and extracted the other six pieces Angel had sent me. Sliding down Bertha’s trunk, I stared at my palm, wondering if I wanted to see the image all put together. I could see sections of white and blue and . . . blonde.
I placed the top right corner on the flat dirt at the base of Bertha and sought out my courage. Gone was the fearless lover who had fought tooth-and-nail for the girl who’d stolen his heart. In his place was someone I didn’t like. Even if it went no further, I needed to do this one last thing for her. Hell, even now, I’d do anything she asked of me, no matter how much I second-guessed it.
Sifting through the pile, I found the ones that belonged at the right edges of the puzzle. I laid them down before searching for the missing one in between. Putting it together gave nothing away. I was only able to make out clouds on top of rolling blue waves.
A beach?
Curious, my eyebrows drew tighter as I worked my way left. The top was more clouds, the bottom more waves, but in the center was something that resembled an angel wing. Three pieces remained. Knowing they’d provide the full picture sent a wave of anxiety through me. The words from her letter whispered to me again . . .
I’m asking you to put me back together. Make me whole.
The bottom left corner went next. It was the lower portion of her body. Her legs were bare, her posture relaxed. I moved to the top, not ready to see it in its entirety. Below more soft clouds was the top of her blonde head, but that’s all I could see. The final piece, I knew, would hold the full picture in that one tiny jagged little square. I rubbed my thumb along it, not bothering to peer down at what was on it. Finding the smooth edge, I joined it with the others and brought her final piece home.
My heart pounded at the image staring back at me. It was breathtaking. Unlike the others, this wasn’t a picture I’d taken. She clearly had gone through the effort of having it taken—for me.
Set on a beach, she was off-center along the left side, her focus down and away from whoever was capturing it, as though she didn’t want them to see inside herself. As much as I could see the pain she carried in the curve of her shoulders, she looked calm. At peace. As though she’d made amends with her demons and had finally learned how to co-exist with the truth inside herself.
A pair of wings fanned out from her back, topping off the angelic photo of her. Dressed all in white, the image was pristine. It gave a sense of her starting anew, coming into her new skin with acceptance. The way she looked away, almost into herself, told me that it was her burden to hold—but she was releasing it into the universe, perhaps into the soft waves crashing around her, as though she was ready to be set free.
The symbolism of this one gesture was enough to knock me to my knees. She was handing herself over to me—giving me her pieces and telling me only I could put her back together, make her whole. It was humbling and eye-opening. For as much as we had been through, I couldn’t let her down. But I still needed to think long and hard about whether or not I was up for the challenge of her. If I had the strength left in me to do what she was asking of me or if what we had was irreparable. I didn’t want to be her letdown, and I didn’t want her to be my downfall.
Remembering all of the random words I’d seen on the opposite side of the puzzle, I scooped my fingers beneath it and flipped it over, careful not to disconnect them. When I set them back down, I braced myself for more of Angel’s beautifully crafted words.
Breathe You
Live through air
Float through time
All seems wasted
When I can’t call you mine
You asked me to live you
As if there was ever another choice
Trying to deny what we shared, I lost you
Severing a limb, leaving me without a voice
How do you live when you’re missing your heart?
How do you function when you’ve been torn apart?
Drifting . . .
Drift
Search
Fall
Stumble in circles
Until your back hits a wall
My lungs constrict
In a dark, confined space
Knowing that without you
All I am is just a waste
Waste of time
Waste of skin
Crumbling
Dying from within
You’re my ailment and my elixir
A wound that only you can suture
I’ve tried and failed and tried again
To piece together a heart that cannot mend
Pieces of me broken
Lost
Scattered around
Searching for the match, which cannot be found
To live you is to breathe you
To move you through my being
Piece me back to life again
You’re the glue to my undoing.