Page 141 of The Other Side of Green

She was gone.

Gone. Forever.

Curling over, my chest wracked with a deep sob and then another.

She was gone, and I’d found myself in a huge mess I couldn’t see my way out of. No one could help me with this.

Ignoring the envelope that I knew contained a letter, I picked up one that had my name on it, and I opened it, hardly reading through the note on the top. Things for Lyra.

Unless it contained the answers to the questions of the universe, I really didn’t know how it would help me.

I snorted a laugh, swiping my hand at the end of my nose when I found the first picture staring back at me.

God I was a gawky kid. Pigtails of curls stuck either side of my head, the curls wild and barely controlled. My legs so thin my knees looked like they’d knock together. Why the hell had she kept this picture? Was she trying to torment me from the grave? I groaned as I peered closer at my wide smile. Both of my front teeth were missing. Wow, Grams, thanks.

The yard fence behind me was painted the blue that made my heart ache. The blue of deaf ears and pained cries. Luca was leaning over the fence from the other side, waving at the camera, goofy smile on his face. Jack was with him, his gaze on me.

The reality of the moment captured on camera hammered home into my heart. This thing between Jack and I, it went beyond morality, beyond right or wrong, yes or no, now or later. It just was. As simple as the act of breathing, there was only Jack for me, the only thing that had ever existed. Jack and my violin, the two constants forever tied together.

Same as Grams and Pops, no matter how frowned upon their relationship might have been for their time. It was clear, even just from that one photograph buried in a journal, that for them it began and ended with them too.

The next picture was of me with the violin. The daft thing was way too big for me, a full size when I should have only had a three-quarter. But I guess that’s what happens when future dreams are picked up at the thrift store.

There’s more in the pile, all of them with me and my violin, various expressions of concentration on my face.

The fifth glossy print showed me playing in the kitchen—ah my first concert, damn I’d forgotten that. Grams made chocolate chip cookies to give to my audience. With hindsight I realized she was bribing them to sit through the torturous event. Luca had his hands over his ears, face scrunched up. Next to him, as always was Jack, who was grinning at me, but not out of hilarious amusement. Instead he wore a grin of solidarity, like maybe he knew it could only get better.

I flicked the photo over hoping for a date, but there wasn’t one.

Picking up the next one I frowned at it. It was at school. I was younger again, stood next to the music teacher. Why on earth? He was smiling at me, and I could almost feel the nod he must have been giving me from the incline of his head. I flipped it again, looking for a time stamp. Nothing apart from Lyra and Mr. Jackson.

Flipping it back over again, I peered closer, trying to remember anything: time, season, smells, anything at all.

Unclear why it was in the box I put it on the rest of the pile and then quickly darted through the other pictures. Me and the violin. A couple of sneaky ones from church were in there—that woman was a crafty old goat.

When the photos, apparently a hall of fame were done, I looked back into the box where the other envelope still sat.

My fingers shook as I pulled out the letter.

Lyra Bird.

I know you’ll be looking at these photos and be wondering why I put them all together. I also know you’ll be angry with me. I didn’t want to tell you how bad my health was going. I’ll take the guilt of that wherever I end up next.

You know I always tried to do right by you.

Life isn’t always fair is it, Lyra Bird?

I don’t know what I did wrong with your mother? Maybe God will tell me when we come face to face. When she had you though, you were my second chance, another gift to prove that I could do it right.

Maybe I should have told you more. I just always wanted you to see yourself as a one and only.

You are a one and only. It shines in a way that I’ve never seen, like God’s gifts run through you.

Don’t waste them, Lyra. They were given to you to bring happiness to others. Ever since you had the violin you’ve been saving other people with it, all those late-night practices, sending out hope in the midst of despair.

You’ve always been my hope, from the moment I first saw you.

Don’t despair of being different, Lyra, just be the only person you can be. Do that and people will always want to come and hear you. I’ll be able to hear you from my place with my creator.