Page 68 of Landon & Shay: Part One

Why did that word feel so heavy?

Why did it make me feel like such a failure?

I was fighting to avoid being swallowed alive by my own mind, and it was an exhausting task to face. I wished they taught us about depression in school. I wished we were given tips and tricks to avoid falling too deep into the dark. Instead, we learned algebra equations. I couldn’t wait for that to come in handy in my life.

“Are you depressed?” she asked. She asked the question as if it wasn’t a loaded gun pointing straight at my face.

“No,” I lied. I’d always lie about that, too. People looked at you different if they thought you were depressed, especially when your life looked a certain way, when it seemed you didn’t have anything to be sad about at all. I knew after I found out about Lance’s depression, I looked at him different. It wasn’t even on purpose, but when a person you love is broken, you see the cracks every time they are around you, and you just wish you had the tools to fix those breaks.

“You always lie about that?”

“No,” I said truthfully. “Never had to lie about it because no one ever asked.”

“You’re going to get sick of being around me. I ask a lot of straightforward questions. I don’t sugarcoat things.”

“Good. I don’t want to get diabetes. Plus, I don’t sugarcoat anything either. I don’t have the energy to do so.”

She stared at me for a while, tilting her head back and forth, taking mental notes on me. Then, she parted her lips. “I should get back to my cousin’s house before they notice I’m gone.”

“Yeah, of course.”

I wanted her to stay a little bit longer. We wouldn’t even have to talk. We could just sit in silence and it would be good enough for me. But, she wasn’t mine to keep.

She was still sad, worrying about her dad, and she had every right to be sad, too. Lance had struggled with a drinking problem and it was the ultimate cause of his death, so I knew how serious it could be.

I didn’t try to tell her to stop being sad. I just allowed her to feel what she had to feel.

On the drive, we passed a park, and Shay called out quickly. “Can we stop here real quick?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I want to see something.”

I pulled the car over and parked, and we both climbed out. Now it was my turn to trust where she led me. We walked through the woods, down the pathway, and it seemed like Shay was on a mission to find a certain thing.

When we came to an opening where two huge willow trees sat, she walked over to it, running her fingers along the bark. The two trees were connected, twisted into each other as if they were meant to be together as one. The closer I grew to the tree, the more I noticed the carvings in its bark.

“It’s called the lovers tree,” Shay said, still searching. “The story is that if a couple comes here and carves their names into the trunk of the tree, their love story will last forever. My family has been doing it for decades and decades.”

“That’s corny,” I muttered. But kind of cool, too.

“I love it,” she replied. “Well,lovedit.” She stopped when she found a set of initials.

CAM & KJG

Before I could ask about the pairing, Shay reached into her pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and started scratching at the letters.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down,” I shouted, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back, but even though she was small, she was strong. She ripped out of my hold and went back to slashing at the bark.

I grabbed her again, this time tighter, and spun her around to face away from the tree. “What the hell are you doing, Chick? You can’t be out here destroying people’s happily ever afters.”

“No, I have to. The legend says the initials mean their love will last forever, not that they will be happy, and my parents aren’t happy. They’re trapped in this messed-up loop, and I have to stop it.”

My cold heart broke for her. She was shaking repeatedly as she tried to get back to the tree, but I wouldn’t let her go. I couldn’t. She was falling apart in my grip, tears washing down her cheeks as she lost herself in me.

“This tree isn’t a gift, it’s a curse, and my mom will never be able to let go of my dad if she’s still attached to this thing. Just like my grandmother was attached to my grandfather, just like my great-grandparents. This tree is cursed. I need to get their names off it,” she cried.

“Shay,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I watched her fall apart. “Shay, listen to me. Crossing out letters on some tree isn’t going to change who your parents are.”

---