Page 87 of Rebound With Me
I stare at her for an eternity. “Dave is the luckiest guy alive.”
“Oh, I am not this understanding with my husband. He’s wrong about everything. He’s just lucky I stick around long enough to fall in love with him over and over again.” She holds out her hand, which I take and squeeze, with more gratitude than I could say with words. “You’ll have that one day too, honey. I know you will.”
* * *
To further illustrate my poor judgment when deciding to come to Bloomington for ten days in August, it has been so humid that when I cry outside on the back porch, my tears never evaporate.
My parents, strangely, haven’t been as worried about me as they were several years ago. Maybe it’s because I’m not depressed, I’ve just been so, so sad. Or maybe it’s because my Dad’s finally figured out how to get his hair to look awesome with the putty that Vince recommended, and that makes both him and my Mom too happy to worry about their lovesick daughter.
Or maybe they’ve noticed that I’m starting to get better, even though I haven’t communicated with Vince at all since seeing him at the restaurant.
The space that I thought I needed in order to sort through my feelings has somehow only been filled with more love for Vince. It’s a cruel joke. Returning to Bloomington, a few years after leaving because I didn’t want to be reminded of my first broken heart, trying to escape Brooklyn to avoid running into my second broken heart. But there is a difference.
Probably without planning it, Vince has broken my heart open. I may have lost him. He may stay mad at me forever. I might never see him again. I may still be mad at him for being so stubborn. But I love Love again. I get why people fall in love, even if the relationship doesn’t last. We don’t shun summer just because we know it doesn’t last forever. We revel in it. I will never regret one second that I spent with Vince, and every single word, kiss, look, feeling, moment that he gave me in the span of weeks will live in me for a lifetime.
The mess we made really is more beautiful than anything I’ve ever known.
I’ve never really understood why people get tattoos before, but now I just want—now I need—to have something permanent on my body, to show how I feel on the inside. To show that it won’t change, even when circumstances have.
