Page 74 of Every Thought Taken

In the beginning, when I unrolled my sleeping bag and stared up at the stars alone, I only thought of her. Where she was, what she was doing, if she was happy. Every night under the stars, I imagined her next to me, staring up at the heavens and painting lines to connect the constellations.

“I really missed you. So much.”

“I missed you too, North,” I whisper to the dark ceiling as I beg for sleep.

Closing my eyes, I start a simple meditation practice I learned early on during my years on the road. It doesn’t necessarily make me fall asleep, but it helps focus my thoughts and shut out the noise—like my sister giggling across the hall with her boyfriend.

Halfway through the exercise, my limbs grow heavy. My thoughts drift away from the meditation and into the darkness. One focused breath after another brings me closer to sleep. But before I doze off, I think,please let me dream of her.

“Exactly what I need,” I huff out as I crest a hill on the trail.

Once I drifted off last night, I slept hard. Usually, I wake to sounds throughout the night. Town has more noise than the offbeat trails and pull-offs I park at for the night. So do buildings. It’d been years since I occupied a residence with creaky floorboards, whining pipes, and sectioned spaces.

Each night in Ales’s guest bed, I hear every groan the apartment above her shop makes, except for last night.

My head hit the pillow, and after fifteen minutes, I zonked out for a solid seven hours. Not even Ales getting up hours before sunrise stirred me from sleep.

I didn’t need psychic abilities to predict Helena would be the reason I woke with a gasp.

Sheets damp and breath ragged, I bolted upright with the heel of my hand thrust to my sternum. The dream had been far from a nightmare. Quite the opposite. Seeing her yesterday, engaging with her for the first time in years, stirred up our history. Some memories I treasured and held close to my heart. While others, I’d rather forget.

It isn’t her fault my subconscious went haywire after mingling in her orbit again. But I need to clear my head. Need to remind myself how long it took to move forward after her.

Helena isn’t just some woman I dated. She isn’t some random acquaintance of the past. Our lives were intertwined long before either of us understood what was happening.

Connections like ours, especially those teetering a fault line, aren’t easily made whole.

I reach a lookout point and pause my hike. Unscrewing my canteen, I take a hefty sip of water before replacing the cap. I lean against the wood rail and stare out at the lake below. Rows of the bold-purple lavender line the shore closest to town, the subtle perfume soft in the air where I stand, miles away. A wide path is lined with people as they stroll the fields, while others sit in Adirondack chairs closer to the water and soak up the sun.

I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with crisp, piney air. Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander. Give myself permission to think and feel and react in whatever way comes naturally. Give myself permission to be vulnerable while no one has the chance to muddle my perspective.

“Helena,” I whisper, her name drifting with the wind.

And with only her name falling from my lips, a whirlwind spins in my chest. Slow at first as early memories of her, of us, climb to the surface. Her jubilant smile and twinkling laughter. The way she sought me out when I pulled away from the crowd and sat in the shadows. How she was just as much my friend as she was my sister’s friend.

Before things escalated between us, she was the faintest light in my dark world.

I sink to the ground, crisscross my legs, plant my elbows on my knees, and drop my head in my hands as deeper, more potent memories swirl to life.

The first time she held my hand and I swore my heart would explode in my chest. We were still only friends at the time, but that small touch was a lifeline. A hint of hope and want.

Every time she chose to spend time with me rather than Ales or Mags… God, for the first time in my life, I felt important. Prioritized. Consequential. And damn, it was addictive.

The first time she wrapped me in her arms and it felt likemore… Warmth and life and love spilled from her arms and gave me purpose. A reason to wake up every day. Something to look forward to. Helena brought value to my life when all I felt was worthlessness.

My breaths come faster, harsher, as my pulse whooshes in my ears.

Winter break of seventh grade. The first time we kissed. The first time we crossed the friendship line and moved into girlfriend-boyfriend territory. Her face when I gifted her the gold and sapphire ring.

Summer break before eighth grade. Helena in my arms, bare skin pressed to mine as we lost our virginity.

I suck in a sharp breath and hold it. Fist the cotton of my shirt just above my heart. Peel my eyes open and scan my surroundings to make sure no one is nearby to witness my impending panic attack.

Dropping my hands to the earth, I curl my fingers in the dirt and anchor myself to solid ground. My eyes fall shut again as I exhale and let my senses take over.

Gritty, cool soil. Somewhere solid to stand.

I inhale deeply and hold the crisp air in my lungs.

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