Page 11 of David's Love

It’s just the anniversary of her death hasn’t hovered over my head the way it used to in the past.

“I’ll be there,” I say, knowing full well that returning to Colorado for Anna’s anniversary will add a new layer of complexity to my already complicated life.

And I haven’t even talked to Elizabeth.

Where does she fit in all this chaos?

How will I make it work?

I had to convince her to visit me here, and the few days we spent together almost made me want to go back.

I’ll need to cut the business meetings short and fly back on the weekends.

And then?

I’ll need to come up with something else.

“Good,” she murmurs.

“Make sure you bake one of those pies,” I say to lift her spirits.

“Always,” she says, a smile lining her voice.

We end the call, and I put my phone back for the second time.

Propped against the back of the chair, I close my eyes, thoughts swirling around in my head.

Anna… Julie… Elizabeth.

Three women who broke into my soul like thieves in the middle of the night.

Anna was my first love, the woman who had stolen my heart, pocketed it, and moved on faster than I could blink, leaving me broken.

Julie is the living memory of her mother.

She has spunk and is driven. In many regards, she is fearless.

I don’t know how much Miranda had told her about Anna and me. Probably not much. Not the essential parts, anyway.

Not that Anna and I hadn’t sworn eternal love to each other, been inseparable for a while, albeit short, and written desperate letters to one another when I was away, thinking that the world would come to a swift end if we didn’t touch and quench the heat we’d wrestled with one more meager time.

It was that kind of love.

The one burning everything in its path.

The one with no patience, wisdom, clarity, mercy, or balance.

The reckless, irrational, consumptive, stern kind, and not in the least, accommodating.

We thought we could make it work.

We didn’t.

It took a long while before things had come full circle, and Miranda and I sat down.

No, she didn’t tell Julie who I was. To her, I’ve always been her mother’s good friend. In the same way, I’ve been a good friend to Miranda––Anna’s sister.

Time has worked its magic, coloring over the unsavory parts of this story with bright tones of hope.

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