Page 159 of The Design of Goodbye
Taylor made it her mission to keep me busy. We went to the movies and Buzz. I attended yoga classes with her and Amy, where I discovered I had terrible balance, too.
Even as busy as I was, my chest ached constantly from the pain of missing Liam. Late at night, when the ache was too strong and I couldn’t sleep, I sketched. With time, I hoped the memories I associated with sewing, fashion design, and my mother would fade, and I could find a way to make it allmine. I hadn’t let my dream of competing in the Harbor Fashion Show go, either, so I kept trying, hopeful I’d get some ideas—or even inspiration—for an entire collection.
When sketching wasn’t enough to dull the ache, I tried to bike. I straddled the seat and walked forward on my tiptoes, not quite brave enough to take my feet off the ground. As I did this, I wondered if Liam was okay. If he was healing. If he missed me.
Mostly, though, I hoped he was happy.
* * *
On the last day of January, a UPS envelope was on my bed when I got home. I had to prevent myself from ripping it open when I saw who the return sender was.
Inside was a single black-and-white watercolor painting of a dove. A piece of paper was taped to the back of it. Even folded in half, I recognized the paper instantly. The missing page from our truth book. I carefully unpeeled it from the painting and unfolded it.
I think I’m falling in love with you.
I think I’m in love with you.
I love you.
While Liam had promised he’d come back, doubt appeared during my weakest moments. But now, holding his truth, Iknewhe would.
I folded the note and put it exactly where it belonged: my pocket. It didn’t burn. It felt right. And then I went to my garage and got on my bike. I pedaled slowly at first, my fear easing with every house I passed. It was strange, how natural biking came back to me.
As I biked, I thought of Liam and how much I missed him. How I couldn’t wait to see him again. How it would feel when we were together again.
How amazing it would be.
In my excitement, I picked up speed. I was flying now—past houses, trees, our park.
No, I wassoaring.
February
chapter sixty
He sent me another envelope.
In it was another painting. While the painting was still in Liam’s style—with the drips and splatter—something about it was different. It took me a few seconds but then I saw it. Barely noticeable along the goldfinch’s wings...
Color.
March
chapter sixty-one
This time, it was obvious. Splattered on the edges of the painting was every colorimaginable.
While the robin was still colorless, this paintingfeltdifferent. I knew what Liam was telling me.
He was healing.
April
chapter sixty-two
The painting was ofa blue jay.
There was so much color. I sat on my front porch, overcome with a million emotions. I’d expected some color but not an entire painting. Liam hadn’t evenusedblack.
