Page 98 of Fun and Games
The grit of alleyway bricks underneath my fingertips.
Cerise's red hair glowing like a halo around her head.
And through it all, a single word kept repeating itself.
Scared.
I pulled my laptop closer to me where I sat crossed-legged on the bed. I brought up my blog. The last entry was half-finished. It was supposed to be about Sin and Tonic.
I refused to acknowledge the ache that surged forward in my chest. I pushed it aside and opened a new document to start typing.
Cerise had been kind when she stopped to talk to me. She hadn't needed to. She could have ignored the girl crying in the dingy alley. But she hadn't. She'd stopped to talk to me, and I was forever grateful that she'd done so.
Because everything Cerise had said rang true.
I was scared.
My eyes stung as I stared into the screen, but they were dry, not wet from tears.
I was scared to let go.
My fingers flew over the keyboard with loud clacking sounds.
I was scared of the person I would be without my grief.
My eyelids blinked rapidly as I tried to stave off exhaustion.
I was scared that moving on meant forgetting.
My wrists dropped to my lap, and I leaned back with a sigh.
I'd been running for so long. Never stopping, always on the move, telling myself that I wasn't going to dwell on the past.
And yet, my entire life these last few years revolved around David. Traveling to the places he'd always wanted us to go. Seeing the sights he'd always wanted us to see.
I'd been running, yes, but I'd been running on a treadmill, stuck in one place. I'd never made any progress at all. All I'd done was exhaust myself and wear out the wheel underneath my feet.
I re-read the words I'd just written, fixing a few typos here and there, then nodded to myself, satisfied.
I stood from the bed and went to the end table. I stared at all the objects sitting there. I carefully took each one and put it in the memento box. The notes. The travel guidebook. The movie tickets. The wedding vow.
And two silver rings.
I put everything inside the box, taking care with the placement, until it was all tucked away neatly.
I wanted to do as Cerise had said.
I wanted to become a better version of myself. To become the person I would have been if I hadn't let grief overtake my life.
I needed to leave the past behind and move on.
I closed the box. I laid my hand on the lid for a brief moment. Then I turned away from it. I went to my laptop, clicked publish on the post, and crawled between the sheets, quickly falling into sleep.
I wanted to become the person I was meant to be.
Which meant I had to, truly, finally, let go.
Thirty-Eight
