Page 107 of Meet Me in the Valley
Grandchild. Cali. My parent’s grandchild.
Dad sees the shift in my expression, eyes distant and mood suddenly somber. I hear the small laughs of children and the echo ofthank yousas my mom shuts the door. She notices my eyes welling up before I can hide them. Concern floods her features like a motherly instinct.
“Sayang, what’s the matter?”
I’m just thinking about your grandchild. The one you deserve to know.
“It’s nothing, Mom. It makes me happy to see you happy, that’s all,” I say, softening my tone and my expression.
Mom frowns, but then kisses me on the cheek, pinching the black cat ears on top of my head. “This suits you.” She looks down at the almost empty bowl of candy. “I need to refillthis before the next wave of cuties comes,” she nearly squeals, pattering with a pep in her step toward the kitchen.
My dad and I make eye contact—his soft smile is always there to bring me reassurance. He reads me so well, patient in the quiet moments when I’m in my head. Guiding me out of the dark when I slip. He continues his sudoku when something outside the window catches my eye.
Another group of neighborhood kids skips past on the sidewalk, their laughter trailing behind them. I can’t help but chuckle when I spot two costumes that instantly jog my memory—flashing me back to a Halloween night a few years ago.
Without thinking, I’m already pulling out my phone, thumbing through my favorites album. I swipe until I find the photo I’m looking for—one I haven’t seen in a long time.
Logan and I had done a Halloween couple’s bar crawl on 6th Street that year. He was Buzz Lightyear. I was Woody. I’m sitting on his shoulders in the middle of the street, grinning like I’ve never had a bad day in my life. There I was, on top of the world.
It was his idea. Toy Story was his favorite movie growing up. He said the costumes were perfect for us since Woody and Buzz were best friends. Just like us.
It must’ve been a year or two after college, when our careers were just taking off and we spent nearly every waking moment together, caught somewhere between youth and adulthood. That picture always makes me smile. Despite the amount of tequila in my system that night, the memory is crystal clear.
I was the Woody to his Buzz.
He wouldn’t shut up about his wings, and I was so drunk I kept shouting,“There’s a snake in my boot!”at strangers like it was the funniest thing I’d ever said.
I exit the photo and notice a seven-second video thumbnail right below it. Even the still frame is ridiculous. I’m already stifling laughter as I tap it. Logan, very drunk and very proud,is running down the sidewalk yelling,“To infinity and beyond!”My giggles trail behind him at the end of the clip. I watch it three more times before I finally let out a breath.
This is the longest I’ve ever gone without talking to Logan. Not because I didn’t want to. God, I’ve wanted to every single day.
But after the way we left things, there was no going back. Not right away.
Everything with my mom has consumed every inch of me lately. But when the day slows down—when I’m not running a million miles an hour—he’s there.
Always there.
I watch the group of kids come up the path to my parents’ house just as Mom emerges from the kitchen, beaming, a full bowl of candy in her hands. The doorbell rings, and I pause to soak in the joy on her face—how she lights up with every tiny costume and giggling voice.
I quietly step away, letting her have her moment with the neighborhood kids, and head down the hallway toward my room. The photo of us is still open on my screen, and as I walk, I can’t stop staring at it.
That familiar dull ache presses against my chest—the kind that only shows up when I’m missing him too much to ignore. I close the door behind me and sit at the edge of the bed. The quiet makes me uneasy.
My phone trembles slightly in my hands as I hover over his name. I attach the Halloween photo with me on his shoulders. When life was easy. I start typing.
Tia
Happy Halloween, Buzz.
My heart beats in my throat and pulses in my ears as I wait for his response. When it doesn’t come right away, my mind plays conniving tricks.
Is he out at a party? Is he in the middle of talking to another woman? Is she falling at his feet with his effortless charm and melting at the sight of his crooked grin?
The back of my neck heats when Krista suddenly appears like an unwanted parasite, latching onto my memory and forcing me to play it in my head.
Krista’s lips on his.
Logan’s fingers gripping her hips.
