Page 62 of Free to Live
Last week, Holly was a freaking badger asking me if there was a place for a large frame in my parents’ home. When I told her I thought there was, she said to find out quick and hung up on me. After calling my pop and being assured there was a spot in their formal dining room for a picture any size Holly wanted to put there, I was stunned speechless today when Holly showed up with a beautifully mounted picture of Grace and me in an elegant silver frame, which was a gift from my father. Also, there was a large box of smaller silver-framed photos all from that day in the botanical garden as well as an album.
When Holly presented the beautifully wrapped presents to my mother, she told her, “Denise, these are from Joe and Grace.” She then stood back and watched while my mother’s eyes overflowed with tears.
After receiving the longest hug from my mother I think I’ve received since Mary’s funeral, my mother wasn’t far from Holly’s side. Either she was asking her questions about the specific pictures, about taking pictures professionally, or about working in the wedding business in general. Holly was terrific with her. When Grace wandered over, Holly just scooped her up and began braiding her curls into two perfect french braids, undoing the pigtails I had her hair in. “Daaaaadyyyyy! I got bwaids!”
Holly effortlessly charmed Justin, whose parents were on a trip to Vermont for the weekend, so much that I began to get confused and surly every time she would laugh at his jokes. But what claim do I have? Mary’s photo peers down at me from its place on the mantle. I gave my heart to someone who I can no longer have. And Holly’s a beautiful woman who’s my friend.
And who’s made me more at peace with my life than I have been in longer…
“Have you been listening, or am I talking to myself?” she demands, laughing.
“Sorry. I thought I heard Grace,” I lie.
“Oh, do you need to go?” Her voice is warm and concerned.
“No, it was nothing.”
“Anyway, I was asking if you wanted to grab lunch this week. I’m not sure what your shift is.”
“I’m on starting Wednesday for three days straight. What about you?”
“I have events on Friday night, Saturday, Saturday night, and Sunday night.”
“Ugh. Big week,” I commiserate.
“It’s the start of wedding season. They’ll all be big weeks. Ali told me I have a couple of graduation photo sessions being thrown in here and there too.”
“Lunch for certain Wednesday and Thursday?” I ask hopefully.
“Sounds perfect,” she says softly.
There’s a lull in the conversation that I don’t feel the need to fill. Through the open line, I hear the soft whisper sound of material shifting. My heart begins to pound. “What are you doing?” Instead of strong and steady, it comes out choked even to my own ears.
There’s a pause in the sound. “Umm, throwing my sheets in the laundry? Why?”
Because I thought you might be changing and the image was going to drive me mad?“It just got super quiet. I thought I might have leaned on the button to disconnect you.”
“Generally that’s followed by an obnoxious beeping sound, Joe. At which point, I would hang up and hope you would call or text me back.” Her voice is dry.
I burst out laughing. I can’t help it. In the few months I’ve known her, I’ve laughed more, smiled more, felt more than I have in years. And I don’t want to go back to the way I was before. The thought flies into my head so quickly, it almost causes my head to snap back. Is it possible I’m ready to move on? I push off the couch and stand in front of the picture of Mary holding our baby.
“Joe? Are you there? Damn. Maybe I did lose him,” Holly mutters in my ear.
I’m beginning to wonder if that’s possible. “Hmm?”
“Oh, there you are. I was just asking if you wanted to go to The Coffee Shop Wednesday for lunch?”
“Sounds great.”And maybe between now and then I can figure out how to bring up if you want more from this than just being friends.
“Then stay safe,” she whispers. “And thanks for calling to make sure I was.”
“Of course. You too.” I disconnect the call.
32
Joseph
“Waiting for someone?” I’ve been nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for Holly to find Eden, and Seth is glaring at me. Sliding off one of the stools that surround the counter at The Coffee Shop, I get to my feet. I haven’t heard from them in months, not since I told them to get their act together around my baby girl. Something—judging by the expressions of mixed fury and tragic sorrow on their faces—they still haven’t managed to do.
