Page 88 of Break Your Fall

I have never been so high.

25

You Belong There

Reyna

My feet are still not touching the ground. My heart is in full flight today.

I haven’t stopped thinking about Tommy—the way he saidforever, the way he took my hands, the way he held my face, the way he kissed me. And I can’t stop wanting him to do it all again.

My instinct was to gush to Camille; I had my phone in my hands, my fingers tapped and scrolled to her number, but I didn’t text and I didn’t call, because the moment I saw her name on the screen, I realized I want to keep what happened between me and Tommy just between us until I know that something is happening. So although I still have the instinct, I’m not used to following through anymore. I stopped trying to tell Camille things during the year I couldn’t.

Tommy kissed me.

We kissed.

And we’re still forever.

He texted me to let me know I could borrow his car. He wasn’t there when I walked over to pick it up. I’d guess part of that has to do with wanting to spare both of us the racking of nerves and the what-nows from seeing each other for the first time after our kiss, and I’d guess the other part has to do with him knowing if he were there waiting for me, I would’ve made him come with me. And I have to do this on my own.

You’re about to gain everything you’ve always wanted.

D. Wescott Gallery & Studio looms in front of me. I wait for a younger couple to exit out the front door and walk along the sidewalk before I hurry across the street.

My father’s name is in big, bold letters on the glass. I picture my name under his, as big and as bold. And with a new last name.Reyna Wescott.A father-daughter gallery and studio.

Jessabelle prickles through my head like an itch I can’t scratch away, and I tell myself that I don’t have to scratch my sister away, that I don’t want to scratch my sister away. It doesn’t matter if I am the first daughter, and it doesn’t matter that I’d want my name on here first to reflect that.It doesn’t matter.This place is big enough for the both of us.

And it really is. As soon as I open the door, I walk inside the biggest gallery I’ve ever stepped into. It’s like a giant stockroom and the goods are the art. The lights hanging from the high ceilings make the wide-open space sparkle. It’s white and clean, the splashes of color belonging to the paintings on the walls. There are sculptures, too, accenting the area.

I picture my work on these walls, moving farther in with an awed smile on my face.

A couple of laggards are still lingering in the back; I came at closing so I could have my father’s full attention.

My stare jerks toward a man as he rounds a wall in denim jeans and a dark T-shirt, his blond hair my blonde hair.

A small gasp parts my lips as I take in my father. I always thought my hair was exactly my mother’s hair. But seeing my father now, I see that my mother’s is a little lighter than mine. His is longer in the back and shorter in the front, the strands curling around his ears.

He sees a kinship in me, too, stopping once his eyes connect with mine, lighting up with a cautious familiarity, like he knows but he doesn’t want to overstep. Like when a stranger waves at you, but you’re not sure if you should wave back, because they’re likely waving at somebody behind you. Or he’s just so happy to see me, he’s speechless and immobile.

I go with that one as I confirm, “Yeah, it’s me.” My hand pops out in a small wave, and he steps closer to me.

“Reyna,” he says through a big, white-toothed grin.Happy to see me.His arms move like he wants to hug me, but then he draws back and settles with saying, “It’s great to see you.”

“You, too,” I say with a nod, wishing I had something in my hands. I hold on to the skirt of my pink dress. “It’s … great to see you.”

He smiles at me again, then waves at the laggards as they finally leave, encouraging them to come again.

“I read your letters,” I say once they’re gone.

My dad nods. “Oh, good.” He keeps nodding and I laugh, which makes him give me another smile.

“I’m sorry about my mom,” I say next, like I’m ticking off a list we have to move past so we can get to the things that matter most. “Not just for trying to keep us apart, but for … you know, everything else, too.”

“I don’t wanna talk about your mom,” he replies with a headshake, then misinterprets the look on my face as he hurries to add, “If you do, we can. We can talk about whatever you want, but I’m only interested in knowing you.”

I smile with relief, nodding my agreement. I don’t want my mother to be a part of this. This ismyfamily.Mynew life. “Well, I already know more about you than you do about me, so … I guess it’s my turn. You have time for me?”

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