Page 84 of Magic or Madness

We stay locked into each other's arms, trading whispers and sweet nothings until there’s a knock on our door, signaling that it’s time to go.

Our next stop is to the beach, where we’ll drop flowers in the ocean, and walk up to her memorial.

Fallon makes sure we all have our plates and baggies, as we’ll be smashing the plates to let go of the things we wrote down.

It’s supposed to be therapeutic, allowing yourself to release the things that haunt you in the middle of the night, and moving forward with a piece of your heart on the mend.

This trip has been all about healing, and I’m finally starting to think it’s working. The nightmares have been kept at bay since Fallon’s idea came to light, and the screams in my head arebecoming something resembling a quiet hum, always there, but not distracting or debilitating.

Masha wanted us close to her this year, and we followed her calling. That’s all I have to believe in.

“Man, remember when she roped us into a sandcastle-building competition? She smoked us all within a few hours, making her own castle and decorating with seashells,” Lex recalls, a sweet smile spread across his face as we all stare at the waves.

The water rolls onto the shore, lightly touching the sand, and then following the pull back into the ocean. It’s repetitive, and Masha taught me that it’s one of the purest forms of beauty.

“No matter how many times the shore pushes the waves away, they always come back. Sometimes weaker, sometimes stronger, but nevertheless, they always come back to what they know.”

Her way with words was fascinating, and although she was only eighteen when we met her, she had always been wise beyond her years.

“It took a lot of digging, and too much time, but I found something you guys might want to see,” Max speaks up, holding out his phone.

We crowd around him, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.

It’s a group photo from a few years ago, and our faces have changed a bit, but Masha’s is still exactly the way I remember her in my head.

Her skin was so tan that summer from all the time we spent on the beach, and her dark, pin-straight hair was pulled back into its signature ponytail.

Her smile outshined all of ours, and I can’t recall exactly where this was taken, but the sun was setting behind us. Wewere all happy, our arms draped over each other’s shoulders like a tight-knit family. And that’s what wewere.

“She was so beautiful,” Fallon whispers, squeezing my arm lightly.

This should hurt, but somehow, I don’t feel an ounce of pain.

One by one, we drop our small bouquets in the ocean, watching as the tide takes them away, and my heart feels full for the first time in a very long time.

We walk along the shore, the sun slowly descending from the sky over the ocean, painting another beautiful picture for us.

Everyone is quiet, the only sounds coming from the sea, as we each seem to be lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, we wade through the sand up to the path that leads to Masha’s memorial.

My hand squeezes harder around Fallon’s, and the air is beginning to restrict in my lungs. We’re almost there, almost with her again, and I can feel the panic rising through my veins, making its way through my body with an ice-cold shiver.

Through the trees, there’s a small clearing, just large enough for all of us to place down a blanket and sit together.

The five of us look up, our eyes connecting with the tree we carved in Masha’s honor. It’s torn up, reminiscent of how we all felt at the time, but her name and birthday are still front and center.

Fallon hands me one last bouquet, and I place it at the trunk of the tree, tracing my fingers over the marks in the bark.

One by one, the guys follow me, showing their respects, and joining us back on the blanket.

Fallon passes me the champagne, and I pop the cork, pouring the bubbly into red plastic cups for everyone while Fallon passes them around.

I take the rest of the bottle and pour it out next to the flowers, saving enough for Masha.

None of us speak for a while, enjoying the silence as dusk falls around us, leaving the eight of us under darkened skies and tree leaves for cover.

We’re in our own sanctuary here, even if it’s the most painful place I’ve ever staked a claim in something.

“Masha, care to explain why you wanted us all here this year?” Oliver asks, tipping his head to the sky and chuckling.

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