Page 71 of Time To Live Again

Her eyes dance with elation. “I’ll take whatever I can get. I might not feel you, but I can hear and see you. It’s good enough for now.”

My eyelids become heavy and sleep is about to take me over when she whispers, “You make it easy to fall in love with you.” When darkness takes over, I’m grinning like I have a special secret.

* * *

I woke up a few minutes ago to find my phone dead. While the coffee brews and the phone charges on the table, I brainstorm a song to pair with the first video clip I’ll send to Olive. It has to be motivational and also a song I love. The video clip will be part of our first dance recital. Olive will get a kick out of that.

I prepare my coffee and head over to the couch with my laptop. My eyes scan the cottage, and I want to smack myself. I criticized Olive’s apartment for being bland and impersonal. My place doesn’t lack color, but it looks exactly like what it is—a hotel cottage. I don’t have personal items around either. If Mom said I couldn’t stay here anymore, all I’d have to do is grab my suitcase and leave. There’s nothing of mine here to pack up. Nobody would know I’d been there.

What a depressing way to live. No permanent residence, no personal items except for the clothes in my suitcase. That isn’t living. It’s past time for a change.

It took one person to make me disappear, and it took one person to bring me back to life.

I pick up my phone and see I have a message from Olive. And what does that make me do? Smile. Not an ordinary one. It’s one that lights up not only my face but my entire body as if I’ve had several espressos. I click on the message.

Olive: Aren’t you the cutest?

It’s a video, and I snort when I see what it is. She’s filmed me sleeping. I zoom in to check if I was drooling or talking in my sleep. It’s hard to see because of the lighting. I chuckle again. I’d probably have done the same thing if she’d fallen asleep first.

Time to create my video clip and song.

30

OLIVE

Leo fell asleep faster than I did last night. I laid there like a psycho, watching him sleep. I don’t know if he’ll appreciate the video I made of him. He looked peaceful and kissable. I couldn’t help whispering, “You make it easy to fall in love with you.” If he heard me, he didn’t react.

We haven’t used the wordloveyet, but that’s okay. I told my long-term boyfriend in college that I loved him, but after graduation, he went off to grad school on the East Coast and I stayed in Cali for nursing school. Our relationship fizzled out quickly. It made me realize the difference betweenloveandin love. Leo’s the first guy I’ve ever beenin lovewith.

I didn’t tell Leo because most people would find it absurd to make such a declaration after a few days. They’d say it’s only lust, not love. Yes, I know, I shouldn’t care what people say. A week ago, I would’ve been one of those judgmental people. I even doubted Mom and Dad’s claim that it was love at first sight for them. I guess you have to experience it firsthand to believe it. And now, I’m a believer.

Anyway, when I woke up this morning, I sent Leo the video clip of him sleeping, then gave myself a pep talk to get things moving. I made a list of therapists, some gyms, and found a puppy yoga place. I’m not a big yoga fan, but who wouldn’t want to lie around with puppies? Maybe Mom would go with me…if she ever talks to me again.

Just as my lips are about to kiss the rim of my coffee cup, my phone plays “I Was Born to Love You.” A rush of excitement hits me—I set that song as Leo’s ringtone and text message tone. I open the phone and find two messages with attachments.Hmm. Interesting. I click on the first one.

Leo: Good morning, beautiful. Thanks for the awesome reminder of how good I look when I’m sleeping. I should be a model for pillows, mattresses, or melatonin supplements. Anywho, every day until I see you next, I’m going to send you a video or picture of me and Corey. This way, you can get to know us a little better. This one is a clip from our first dance recital. Check out my hair! Corey’s the one standing to my right.

I click on the video and brace myself. A group of eight boys, all wearing white tank tops and big, baggy black pants, stand in a row. Leo’s easy to find in the lineup with his frizzy hair. It’s like he stepped into a rainforest. I pause the video and zoom in so I can see Corey better. He’s slightly taller and thinner than Leo and has dark brown hair. It’s hard to make out his face because it’s an old video. I start it again and focus when a song begins. I think it’s from Usher. Then it’s go time.

My mouth drops open and I don’t blink because I’m too enthralled. This is theirfirstrecital? When did he say he started lessons? Ten years old? The performance is amazing. My heart melts as young Leo dances around the stage with enough enthusiasm to grab anybody’s attention. When the video ends, I restart it. The song has me pumped up now! I play it three more times, then put the phone down and massage my cramped jaw from my perma smile. I click on the next message.

Leo: I hope you enjoyed that. That one really makes me miss Corey, but I think watching them is the only way I’m going to move on. Speaking of healing, here’s a song that can get anybody’s motivation to kick in. No matter how hard it gets, we know what the endgame is.

Let’s see if I know the song he picked. I click on the YouTube link. It’s perfect. The music video of Katy Perry’s “Roar” plays. I love this freaking song. The first time I heard it was during a Super Bowl halftime show. I switch over to Spotify and create a new playlist to save all the songs he sends me. We already have a playlist created for us, but this one will be just for me.

Then I read the checklist I made this morning when I woke up.

It’s time to roar.

* * *

The next morning, my doorbell rings. I’m hoping it’s the cologne I ordered; the delivery was delayed. I whip open the door and freeze.

“Hi, sweetheart. Can we talk?” It’s Mom, clutching her crimson red purse. What a difference from how she greeted me last time.

“Of course, Mom. Come in.” I want to hug her already, but refrain. Instead, I step aside to let her in. She stops in the living room with her arms crossed over her chest, her purse hanging from the crook of her arm. It’s rare for her to look so insecure and uncomfortable.

“Let me take your coat.” She places her purse on the coffee table and hands me her matching red peacoat. One thing to know about Mom, she has good fashion sense. “Do you want something to drink?”

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