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In Search of Mr. Anonymous by J B Glazer (43)

Chapter 42

Luke

I touchdown just after eight o’clock. Traffic’s light so I make it home within the hour. Martin is staying at my dad’s. It’s weird coming home to an empty house without him to greet me. As I’m walking up my steps I notice there’s a package at my door. I bend down to retrieve it and see Lucy’s name on the return address label. Damn her. Why won’t she take the hint? I throw it inside my front hall and leave it there—for all of an hour. I take a shower and do some work. But my mind keeps going to the package that’s still sitting where I left it. Fuck it. I get out a pair of scissors and cut through the tape. I unwrap the parchment paper and there’s a familiar black notebook. I’ve seen it in her apartment. She was writing in it. When I asked her if I could see she said no, and alluded it would be like looking inside her soul. I take a deep breath. I wasn’t expecting this. I’m not sure if I want to see what’s inside. But of course, I do. There’s a note taped to the front inside page. I begin reading.

Luke,

I’m so sorry for not trusting you when you needed me to most. The thing is, you’re the only man I’ve ever trusted. I opened up to you in ways I never thought possible. I took for granted that you gave me yours. These are my most personal thoughts. I’ve never shared them with anyone else. Many of them are dark and meant only for me. But now I realize you need to read them. To truly know me. And the depths of my trust in you.


I’ve always thought I was incapable of love. I now understand I just never realized what love was until I met you. Because I fell in love with you. Slowly and all at once. I love you, Luke Harrison. With all of my heart and all of my being. Please give me the chance to tell you in person.

Yours,

Lucy

There are pages and pages of journal entries. I quickly flip through and they look to be a combination of entries and poems.

June 29, 1993


The sun is the biggest and brightest star in the solar system.

Melanie is the sun. I am the moon.

Light vs. dark.

Hot vs. cold.

Gives life, can’t sustain life.

Gravitational center. Floating away.

A source of light. Reflects the sun’s light.

But you can’t have one without the other. They work together to create the tides.

Melanie is the sun. I am the moon.


July 7, 2002

Toby and I have been dating for nine months. He told me he loved me. I know most girls can’t wait to hear those words. Of course, I panicked. I smiled and told him I wasn’t ready. He said he understood. But he doesn’t. If only I had a heart to give him.


October 15, 2002

Toby broke up with me on our one-year anniversary. He said he didn’t understand me. That he was trying to, but I wouldn’t let him in. He wanted to know why I was so cold. My heart like ice. Because I don’t have one, I wanted to scream at him. But I didn’t. I told him I’m sorry I disappointed him and that I understood. Of course I understand. He wants me to be normal. But I’ll never be normal. My mom abandoned me, chose an abusive husband over me. I hate her decision. The hate began as a tiny seed, but it’s grown into a wild, ugly weed. So what do I know about love? If a mother can leave her child, who she’s supposed to love most in the world and protect, what do I know about how to love someone? Because for me, love and hate are intertwined.


States of Matter

A lone icicle hangs from a tree branch in the dead of winter.

Frozen solid, it remains untouched.

Spring rolls in.

Drip, drip, drip.

The icicle slowly melts.

The drips come together and form a puddle.

The sun disappears again.

The puddle remains.

The sun returns. The temperature soars.

The puddle slowly turns to vapor.

The water evaporates into the sky, leaving no trace behind it was ever there.

I am vapor.

My heart aches reading her entries. I flip to the ones that are most current.

Hope

Warm eyes,

An open smile.

Makes me smile,

It’s been so long.

Inviting.

I hesitate.

But my eyes are now open.

A sliver of hope.


Love

Falling…

Falling…

Fallen.

Pure bliss.


The Crush

Falling…

Falling…

Fallen.

Rock bottom.

CRUSHED.


Heartbeat

There’s a heart beating in my chest.

I know it’s there.

I can feel its steady rhythm.

But it’s quiet. Always quiet.

I want to hear it. To know I’m alive.

In Hamilton, when Eliza saw Alexander her heart went BOOM.

Like an explosion in her chest.

But mine remains quiet. How I long to hear its sounds.

Then I met him.

BOOM.


Lost

Organized

Efficient

Orderly

Systematic

Methodical

Trying to prevent the inevitable.

So much time preparing, searching.

Scared of losing something.

Only to discover it’s someone.

But how can you lose something that’s not yours?


Lost. Alone… Again.


Despair

Darkness envelops me a like a blanket,

Wrapping her claws around me.

Holding tight,

She won’t let go.

I give up the fight.

The light is too blinding.


Secrets

Not even a whisper.

Not even a sigh shall leave my lips.

Yet its weight is unbearable.

Locked up tight.

I’m the key. But there’s no escape.

For the lock is broken.


The Day the Music Stopped

I saw you across the room, eyes as black as a starless night.

You looked at me and it felt like you could see my very essence.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

My pulse would race every time I saw you.

I could feel the blood running through my veins, carrying it to my heart.

SWOOOOSH.

I’ve never felt more alive.

Then we met and I became a symphony.

A symphony of sweet sounds.

We came together and CRASH.

Our song reached a dramatic crescendo.

Then you left. The music stopped. Now all that’s left is

Silence.


Lies

Black

Ugly

Sin

Cruelty

LUCY


Burned

I saw you across the room

A fire burned within

Perfect strangers. Perfect together.

Then you vanished

Searching, searching, searching

Nowhere to be found


I saw you across the room

No, no, no

But the fire still burns

Willpower. Strength. Self-Control.

TEMPTATION

An inferno

Yes, yes, yes!

I can’t quench the flames

They spread like wildfire, consuming me


She saw you across the room

Her anger fans the flames

Trust. Broken.

My tears create a flood

I’m drowning

No one hears my cries. I’m alone.

Deluge

The world I created incinerates

Nothing remains but

Ashes. Ashes. Ashes.

I can feel the weight of her pain as though it’s resting on my shoulders. It’s difficult to keep reading, knowing I caused so much of it even though it was unintentional. I know she never meant for me to read any of these words. These are her thoughts meant for her and her alone. It feels intrusive somehow. So I flip to the back, hoping we’re meant for a different ending. And then I find it. A poem that she wrote for me.

Metamorphosis

A tiny egg, a beautiful fate.

Ill-fated lovers

Growing, preparing, shedding its skin.

Shrunken, lost, re-building walls

On a journey. Finally at rest.

Restless

Weaving a silk nest. Hidden away inside.

Tired of hiding

Changes no one can see.

Exposed. Forever changed

Emergence.

Arrival

Fragile.

Stronger

Ready to fly.

Ready to leap

Into the blue.

Into you

2 weeks, a fleeting existence

2 days, a lasting impression


Touched by its beauty

A gift that will last a lifetime


Thank you for giving me the greatest gift. You.

Lucy

That was the last entry. I’m about to close the journal but see another note taped to the back. She’s copied the words from a Coldplay song called “Magic.” It asks the question even after everything that’s happened do you still believe in magic. Underneath she’s written her response as though Chris Martin asked her personally.

I do believe in magic. I do believe in you.

Because when we’re together, it feels like magic. Like it can’t be real. But it is.

I do believe that of all the people in this world, you are destined to be mine.

My world revolves around you, Luke. I was wrong. Melanie isn’t the sun. You are.

You are. I put my head in my hands and weep. My shoulders heave with the weight I’ve just placed on them. I haven’t cried since I was thirteen years old. But I’m overcome with emotion, so much so that I’m not sure my body can bear the anguish I feel. Tortured. That’s the word. And through my salty tears, I finally see clearly.

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