Page 38 of Loving London

“In here.” I touch a finger to my head. “And in here.” I place my hand over my heart.

“That’s right.” She nods her head, pleased. “The ones you love never leave you. You can always find them in your mind and heart. Just be still and listen. Now, I’m going to tell you something I told your daddy when he was your age, and I want you to really listen, okay?”

I nod my head.

“Life is one big adventure. You only get one life, so you have to make it count. You can’t sit around on your bum, waiting for joy to find you. We’re all born with the capacity to live incredible lives, but the trick is…you have to work for it. A magical life is within everyone’s grasp, but you have to make it happen for yourself. Everything that is worth having requires effort. Happiness will always be there for you, but it’s not free. Do you understand?”

I’m quiet for a moment before saying, “I think so.”

“You will, Loïc, love. Just remember…make your life count, and please be happy. Promise me,” she urges, her blue eyes filling with tears.

“I promise, Nan. I promise.”

“That’s my boy.”

I bolt up with a start, forcing my eyes to blink, and the room comes into focus. The dim light of the alarm clock saturates the space with a soft glow, allowing me to figure out where I am.

In my room.

The voices of my grandma and my dad still echo through my mind, clearer than they have been in years.

Jesus.

I run my fingers through my damp hair.

“Hello?” I whisper into the night. A foreboding sense that I’m not alone weighs heavily on me. “Sarah?” I say softly.

But there’s no response.

No one’s here.

My stare finds my door closed, exactly as it should be.

Be brave.

Be happy.

Be strong.

The voices are so loud. They pound through my mind, demanding to be heard. Pressing the palms of my hands against my ears, I try to block them out.

I feel so…

Wait.

I feel.

Moving my hands down to my chest, I press them against my heart, the epicenter of the current anguish that’s moving through my body like a raging fire, an inferno of pain.

The ache doesn’t solely consist of hurt. There’s love, remorse, sorrow, and longing. But what resonates with me the most is the fact that I can feel it all. The gravity of these emotions has overpowered the vast numbness that I’ve been living under for so long.

And then it happens.

My chest heaves, my muscles constrict, and my shoulders shake as I cry.

After all this time, I motherfucking cry.

The warm tears course down my face in streams. I can taste the saltiness as they cascade over my mouth.

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