Page 50 of Then Came the Fall
“What?” I said again.
He held out his hand, his palm facing up. The piece of beach glass was one of the most perfect ones I had ever seen, about the size of a quarter, soft and smooth, shaped like a tear drop.
Even in the dim light, it was unmistakably blue.
“Holy shit! Leave it to you to find a piece of blue at night. It’s beautiful.”
“Right?” He handed it to me. “For you.”
I stuffed it in my pocket gratefully and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Best night ever,” he whispered into my hair.
“Absolutely,” I agreed, as the last of the colors in the skydissolved.
December 25, 2011
Hi Babe,
Merry Christmas! I hope you waited until Christmas morning to open this letter. With everything we’ve been through, I just wanted to tell you that this year, you’re my Christmas gift. I know that sounds corny, but I really mean it. We’ve been friends forever, and now… well, you’re just everything to me.
I wish we were older so we could live together. We would have a good Christmas tree – a thick, big, fresh cut one, not like the old fake tree I’ve had in my house since I was born. My poor mom tries so hard to make a nice Christmas for us with next to no money. If you and I were in our own place, I feel like our Christmases would be so happy, and I would be able to look forward to them instead of dreading every family holiday.
But anyway… I love you, and I’m so happy you’re my boyfriend. So, even though our rule is no gifts for Christmas, this year I wanted to send you something special. I hope you like it. It’s from that night. I know you’re not much of a jewelry-wearer, but you have that one necklace with the leather cord, so I got a leather cord for this one, too. I went to a jeweler on the same block as my job. In fact, the guy who owns the pizzeria where I work knows the jeweler, so he didn’t even charge me. He wrapped the beach glass in metal wire and added the hook at the top so I could put it on the cord. I think it came out really cool.
I can’t wait to see you tomorrow for some Christmas leftovers. Don’t forget to save me some of that chocolate chip pecan pie your mom makes!
Merry Christmas. I love you!
Love always,
Taylor
Chapter seventeen
Present
Days become weeks, and soon it is spring. The change in the weather gives Matt a chance to go out more often during the day, just for fresh air. The doctor issues him a heart monitor, which he has to wear for four weeks to make sure he doesn’t have something called A-fib. The monitor sends his heart rhythms directly to the cardiologist via a smartphone that he has to carry with him in his pocket. He gets cleared to drive again, but he confesses that he’s afraid to drive alone with Brett in the car, God forbid something should happen to him. Similarly, he’s cleared to go back to work, but he’s apprehensive about doing things that used to be second nature—like climbing on top of a house to fix the roof shingles or lifting things that are particularly heavy, which gets his heart rate up. His nicotine patch goes from 14 mg down to 7, and then it goes away altogether, which offers the skin on his upper arms a reprieve from the itch those patches leave behind. As time goes on, Matt misses smoking less, and some of his irritability regarding the subject dissipates. I remind him he doesn’t have to go back to work right away—the GoFundMe raised enough money to cover about eight months of expenses—and I encourage him to take things slow. I also continue the rhythm of spending evenings and weekends with Matt and Brett, so much thatI have no time for most of my friends. I ghost the two guys I’d been dating, ignoring the concerned texts I receive from each of them. It’s too much to explain, so I don’t even bother.
The one person I continue to speak to regularly is Jess, who grows visibly concerned. On one hand, she’s interested in this new development in my life, and she’s happy to hear that Matt seems to be doing okay, but she’s worried about what she calls my “sudden attachment” to him.
“I just don’t get it. Aren’t you afraid?” Jess asked me on the phone the other day.
“Afraid of what?”
“Um,” she began. “Himdying? Or Leyla changing her mind and coming back home?”
“I mean, yeah,” I replied. “Of course I am. But what am I going to do?”
“Maybe take it a little slower?”
I sighed. “There is no ‘slower’ with us. We’re all or nothing. Always have been.”
“And you’re sure you’re not just projecting your own feelings onto him?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you haven’t exactly had an easy run of things in the relationship department over the past few years. But he’s settled down. Have you stopped to think that maybe you guys are in different phases of your life with regard to relationships?”
