Page 47 of Since Always

"Senator Blaze," she chides, and I grin and shrug.

"Your fault."

She laughs. "Is this at all weird for you still? Like me being...Me? I mean, you were always the older guy I had a crush on, but to you, I was...I just keep thinking this must be weird."

I think about it for a moment. "The short answer is yes. Obviously, it is weird. But it's also not. I've spent a lot of time over the past couple of years trying to separate you into two different people in my mind. And then, when those people converge and I realize you're still the same person, I'm just wracked with guilt." She starts to speak, but I keep going. "I need you to know there was not, in the entire time you were growing up, a single second I ever thought or wanted anything like this to happen."

"I know that."

"I know you do, but I need to say it. Because the truth is, if anyone ever knew what was going on between us, that's what they would assume; no matter what I said. That I had wanted this from the beginning. That I had groomed you for a relationship. They would assume that I was just waiting. It makes me sick to think about what people would believe. But none of that matters more than what you believe."

"Owen, I was there. I, of all people, know how you have always seen me. That is not even a...No. I'm not stupid or naïve. Regardless of what kind of crazy crush I had on you, if I thought you were the kind of person who preyed on...Jesus, I wouldn't be with you now. I'm not so blinded by your charm and good looks that I would just be cool with that."

"Okay."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. Everyone else may insist on an explanation, but I don't need one. I've been there all along. And I think it doesn't matter who I was, or who you were. It matters who we are now."

She is staring at me with all the confidence and assuredness in the world. "You know, a couple of years ago, I was worried about you," I tell her. "About how you were dealing with the loss of your dad. But you're stronger now than you were. And smarter. Sometimes you feel wise beyond your years."

"I don't know if I came out of it at all. It still feels like I'm dealing with it. My therapist asked me recently if I thought I had processed his death, and I don't know how to answer that. I don't even know if I know what that means. Sometimes, I'm okay and I can think about him and it's fine, and then sometimes it feels like it just happened yesterday, and I think I won't be okay ever again. So, I don't know."

"You will never not feel like that sometimes, though. That's just a part of it."

"Do you still feel that way? About Kaitlyn?"

My body tenses the way it does anytime anyone talks about Kaitlyn's death. "Sometimes," I say, and though I know she is waiting for more, I fall silent. She reaches down and takes my gloved hand in her own.

"Some days I do feel a little stronger," she says. "And then I'll have a day where I have some random thought about him, and it hits me again like a brick wall. Then it's just so overwhelming."

I nod. "I get that. People always talk about grief as though it's something you pass through and get to the other side; but I have never seen it like that. In my head, I always picture it like..." I pause for a second, trying to figure out exactly how to describe it. "It's like one day, someone hands you this heavy solid gold ball. You grab it with both hands and it instantly adheres to you. You physically can't put it down, ever again. And at first, you think I can't carry this. How will I be able to do anything with my hands while I'm holding this fucking ball? It's too heavy and you aren't strong enough to carry it all day, every day. But you don't have a choice. So, you carry the ball. And, after a while, you learn to do things and live your life while holding it. You have to, because there's no other option other than just giving up. And, because you're holding it all the time, you build muscle and it gets a little easier. Because you do get stronger. Sometimes you have moments where, yeah, you realize it's still there; you are still holding this goddamn ball, and you panic. You go back to thinking you can't do it. That you can't live your life like this. But the truth is, you already are. It's not the same as it once was, obviously. It won't ever be the same. But you are doing it, and you'll keep doing it."

She stares past me, looking out over the heavily blanketed trees, pondering that. "A heavy gold ball," she finally says.

"A big one."

"I like that. It feels right."

We fall into a comfortable silence, and I imagine we are both thinking about the weights we carry. The gold balls that we can't put down.

As we approach the end of the lift, she sighs a long sigh. A mischievous grin spreads across her face.

"Do you want to race?" she asks, and I burst out in laughter.

That is not what I expected to hear next.

"Down this hill?" I nod to the run below us. "What are the stakes?"

She cocks a mischievous grin. "Winner's choice."

"Deal."

"So, what does he have to do?" Stephanie asks, as we grab hot chocolate at the bottom of the hill after the run. "For losing your bet?"

"I haven't decided yet. It's going to be embarrassing though."

"Obviously," I say. "Can you please not land me on TMZ tomorrow?"

"All press is good press, Senator."

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