Page 65 of Limbo

It makes me think of something Pete’s grandmother used to say. “Watch for the sun to shine when it rains.”

“Exactly,” he says. His eyebrows pull in as he tries to come up with another one to further his point. “Find the exquisite twilight … hidden between…” He makes a face and shakes his head. “Nope. I can’t finish that one. I should have quit while I was ahead.”

My mouth turns up at the corners. “Exquisite Twilight is a great band name.”

He chuckles and tosses Jordan’s coat over me again. “That it is, my friend. At the very least, a killer song title.”

I lean back in my seat, and he stares out at a dark field in front of us, not saying another word. He gives me the same silence I offer Connor when he feels unsteady. I’m left with my thoughts but not alone as I regain my balance. A balance I lost longer ago than I’ve ever admitted.

My hatred for Graham has been growing and evolving all my life. The roots are deep in my core, constantly present. I always thought the drinking and partying were misguided attempts to prove he couldn’t break me, but sitting at an abandoned gas station with my personal guru, I finally accept the truth. I shattered the moment my anger toward him consumed me, and I’ve been drowning in it ever since.

“I think I understand what you meant earlier.”

He readjusts in his seat. “Let me hear it, woman.”

I pull my knees up to my chest until the makeshift blanket covers me—protects me. “Graham should only get my physical presence every other weekend, but I give him so much more of me. No matter where I am, the slightest reminder of him shuts me down. I can’t see anything else. It ruins my entire day, sometimes more, and I let it happen every time. Ilethim have this effect, and you’re right. It is complete bullshit I give him that kind of power over me and my life.”

Maybe the answer has always been obvious and in my face, but everything else blinded me to it. The way to take control away from Graham is to not give it to him in the first place. He can only make me miserable if I allow him to, so I refuse to let him anymore. End of story.

Benji still hasn’t said anything, so I look up, and he smiles. “Sounds like you’ve solved the puzzle.”

I huff out a laugh, feeling like I have. Or at least, sorted out enough to see it in a different light.

“Should I tell you what you’ve won?” he asks. I nod, and he’s serious again. “A life, Calico. Now you get to enjoy your life.”

Even though his words cause actual freaking goose bumps, I roll my eyes. “You couldn’t spring for a pony? I mean, this is a pretty significant revelation.”

He contemplates for a second. “Would you settle for something a little more the size of Jordan Waters?”

I chew on my lip, remembering how I drove him away. “I called him a disappointment for no other reason than to hurt him, Benji.”

“So, apologize and do better next time.”

“Is it really that simple?” I ask. “I apologize, and he forgives me, just like that?”

He digs out his wallet and tosses me a folded piece of notebook paper. “Our failed songwriting attempt from the other day.”

Unfolding it, I recognize Jordan’s handwriting. Most of the page, he covered in doodles, and all the words are crossed out, except four lines in the middle.

Certain of the unsure in a meaningless void.

Frantic beauty hides beyond her serene blue eyes.

She left as mine but never returned.

A scab not yet a scar in a messy, wounded life.

“The kid’s lyrics were straight out of a boy-band-broken-heart ballad,” Benji says. “I’m damn near positive I’m in the presence of his muse.”

“Messy and wounded sounds like me.”

A scribbled-out section in the corner steals my attention, the words hidden beneath the blue spirals, scarcely visible.

What I wouldn’t do for five more perfect seconds with you.

I smile at the scratched-out word. Maybe it can be that simple—uncomplicated.

Benji snatches the paper out of my hand and returns it to his wallet. “Now, can we please go fix his poor, tormented soul, so I can get my lead guitarist back?”

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