My Lullaby of You
Page 20
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Amy
When I got back to the apartment, I knew Cassie would be waiting for me. She stood there, hands on her hips, foot tapping slightly, her hair sticking out in several directions. “Tell me. Now,” she demanded, trying to keep herself from squealing.
So I did.
“Amy! Door!” Cassie called out. It was the next day, and I was still in bed. I looked at the clock. It was just past noon. Confused, I walked to the door to find no one there. I turned back to say something to Cassie but she had disappeared into the bedroom. I looked back in the doorway and then looked down. There was a package on the floor, and it was unmarked. How Cassie knew it was mine was beyond me. I picked it up, turning it over in my hand. It felt empty.
I pulled out what appeared to be a stack of letters. There was a note attached to the first one that said “Listen and read.”
I sat on the floor, their weight in my hand feeling like an ache in my chest. Seth was gone now, for how long I wasn’t sure, but after what had happened the night before, I wouldn’t let myself worry about that now.
I looked back down at the letters and spotted Seth’s CD out of the corner of my eye. I walked over to my CD player, putting it in before taking out the first letter and unfolding it. I took a deep breath, pushed play, and began to read.
SUMMER
EPILOGUE
Amy
“Mom!” I called up the stairs. “Come on!” I held my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my flip-flops.
“Honey, I know you’re excited to be back home, but honestly, I’m too old to be at a public beach.”
I rolled my eyes and tried again. “We went through this already. You are not that old. Let’s go! Time’s ticking, and you’re only getting older.” I could hear her sigh upstairs and then finally she emerged on the steps.
I had been home for a week now and finally convinced my mom that we absolutely had to go to the beach. She was doing better. Her relationship with John had never been stronger, and her newfound hobby of gardening seemed to be keeping her away from the kitchen table. She was still smoking, but I was working on that.
Seth was doing well. With his music, anyway. How he was, I wasn’t sure, but his music seemed to be everywhere now. I often wondered how different his life would have been if he hadn’t met my curly hair or knobby knees. Not that I had knobby knees.
His thank you section on his album was on my mirror as a reminder. “For Amy,” it said, “you made this happen.” And beneath that was where he had scribbled “I’ll be waiting.”
This was a bit extreme, if you asked me, but apparently he felt that way, considering the fact that his whole album practically displayed our entire relationship and the emotions he had trouble expressing otherwise. Not that I was any better at it, but I was getting there.
There was also the matter of the letters. After reading them several times, I wrote back. I answered all twenty-one of them and, unlike him, I actually sent mine through email. I wasn’t sure whether he was reading them or not since he didn’t email back, but I hadn’t expected him to. He was busy and so was I, and we had agreed that it was best if we focused on the matter of living our lives day to day, not worrying what, if anything, would happen next.
When we reached the beach, I took it all in again, the water I loved so much, all of my memories of time spent on this sand. I could still see my dad running along the shore like so many times before, and me, swimming to the rock. Lifeguarding, burning my skin while Paul played tricks on me and annoyed me. There were happy memories but also sad ones. You can’t erase all the bad and try to keep only the good. There’s a balance and the bad is needed to appreciate all the good. There’s never a shortage of space to build new memories. Whether they become happy or sad moments is partly up to you.
My mom walked ahead of me and set up her chair and towel. I stood where I was, watching her. I wondered if she felt some kind of peace or bond like I did and had so many years ago. I watched her, a new memory already being formed, and I had a feeling it would be a good one.
I scanned the shore, knowing it was still too early for some people to begin a day at the beach. Still, it didn’t surprise me at all when I saw that there on the sand, facing the water, was a familiar figure already there, waiting.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It feels strange writing this. For so many years I had dreamt about all the people I would thank, fist pump, high five, hug, etc. and here we are! It still feels like I haven't woken up yet.
I would be nowhere without the strength and love that God has shown me and given me throughout my life and this journey. To Him I will be forever grateful.
Big hug and thanks to my parents for encouraging me to pursue my passions even if that meant I ended up with more than just a few. Thank you for your support and for making a trip to the library seem like the best thing ever. Special thanks to my mom for being one of the first to read this story and every story I’ve written.
Thank you to everyone who in some way shape or form helped push me along this journey. Thank you to Kelly, my editor for opening my eyes to the potential of this story and for your patience and guidance when the process took longer than expected.
A big high five to all the indie authors out there making it happen and answering my questions no matter how obvious or silly they were. I can't describe how much the encouragement and friendships I've made through the bookstagram community has helped me to keep going on those days when I doubt myself.
To my family, friends, and all the readers who have bought and read this book. Thank you thank you thank you!
The biggest hug and thank you of all goes to my sister, Nabilah, my confidante, my cheerleader, and my writing buddy. Thank you for the endless nights discussing this story, letting me read it aloud to you as we tore it apart, laughed at it, and loved it. Thank you for loving Amy and Seth as much as I do.
And finally, thank you to my husband, John for being the most biased unbiased reader out there. Thank you for loving me enough to tell me when it's good, when it needs work, and to never stop writing. Your support means more than you know.
To all you writers out there with the dream of getting your words out to the world, don't give up. Trust me, if I can do it, you can too.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alia has been writing since she fell in love with reading at a young age and now the characters in her head refuse to leave her alone. My Lullaby of You is her first novel.
When she is not writing, she works full time as an architectural designer and enjoys drinking too much coffee, making to-do lists, and traveling.
You can find her rambling about all of the above on her website: www.aliarosewrites.com and on Instagram and Twitter @aliarosewrites.