It moves its head like it’s wanting to say something.
If the bird starts talking, I might just pass out.
Then it moves as if it’s going to fly away.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say.
It gets to the edge of the sign, then flutters down to the ground where I just laid the locket.
Then I see a bolt of blue streak back up, carrying the locket in its beak. I watch the bird soar up to the sky and then fly away.
I shake my head and laugh.
It’s only moments later when I start the car that something dawns on me.
Maybe it should have been obvious the first time I read that name.
Indigo Jadan Kinner.
Indigo. Jadan.
Blue. Jay.
Bluebird.
A chill washes over me, and I laugh again, shaking my head, not believing in what I think I’m believing in.
But another voice says why not?
And yeah, I have no answer to that.
It’s a nice thought, the more I think of it.
That little bird.
That little bluebird following me around.
134. The Living Proof
I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t met Jocelyn.
Would I have come to this point in my life? Would I be riding off into the sunset of my future?
I don’t know. I don’t think I would be.
But I know this now.
There’s more to this life than the road below me and the motion around me. There’s more than just the sky above and the setting sun.
Maybe she’ll always be watching over me, already knowing this, already discovering a sun that burns brighter than we ever dreamed.
Maybe.
But I don’t need a maybe to know that I will always love Jocelyn in the flawed, boyish way I loved her.
So brief like a day compared to eternity.
Or like that drop in the endless ocean.
I’m about to leave knowing who I am.
Maybe Jocelyn knew all along.
She believed in me before I ever believed myself.
135. Crystal Clear
Maybe I’ll take Jocelyn’s cue and not say good-bye to Kelsey.
We’re going to see each other sooner than we think. Her parents are bringing her up to Illinois in August. And they might visit even earlier than that.
We have texting and email and Facebook and Skype and all those other ways to keep in touch. Plus, Kelsey’s family is moving too. They’re going to Columbia, where her father got a new job.
So no good-byes are necessary. Right?
Yet I can feel that melancholy, romantic, don’t-leave-me-now Chris Buckley starting to emerge.
It starts when I’m packing and trying to make sure I have everything. Mom has said to take whatever I need, and movers will take the rest. All of Uncle Robert’s things now belong to us, so I pack away some of the T-shirts, making sure that the one I wore that first day of school is on top: the cover of The Smiths’ last album, Strangeways, Here We Come.
Yep, and now here we go.
Of all the things I’ve stuck in my backpack and suitcase, the one thing missing is that picture. The one that magically appeared and proceeded to fade in and out ever since.
I haven’t been able to find it since Memorial Day. Not that I remember when I last looked at it, but it’s gone.
There are other things that I’m tossing. We have a garbage can outside on the driveway, full of stuff we don’t want and won’t need the movers to take. Some items from the kitchen and the fridge, some of Mom’s toiletries. I tossed some notebooks and books from school that I know I’ll never look at again.
I bring the last of the luggage down the narrow steps that I frankly hope I’ll never have to climb again. Kelsey is waiting by my car.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” she says.
“Reminds me of a prom I once went to.”
“What are we going to do without another prom?”
“A lot,” I say with a laugh.
After getting the last suitcase and bag to fit in the trunk, I close it and wait for Mom.
Kelsey and I have talked a lot about this moment. We’re both trying to downplay it. It won’t be long. It really won’t be long.
“So how does the epic love story end?”
I lean against the car. The sun is shining bright, and it’s a beautiful and warm day.
“Riding off into the sunset,” I say. “Naturally.”
“Don’t you usually ride a horse?”
“A car will have to do.”
“And doesn’t the hero usually ride off into the sunset with the girl?”
“Are you saying you want to ride off into the sunset with the hero?”
“Of course I do,” Kelsey says with those beaming blue eyes looking up at me.
“Well, first I’ll have to find a hero.”
“You were mine even before you saved me.”
I want to say something witty or clever, but I can’t. Her words make me want to hug her and not let her go.
“Well, if I can’t go with the hero, at least I can have something to remember him by.”
“And what’s that?”
Kelsey goes over to the garbage and picks up the Polaroid camera that Mounds gave me.
I can’t help laughing. “That thing is broken. It can’t be fixed. I hope you won’t keep that as a reminder of me.”
“It sounds just like you,” Kelsey says.
I break out into a laugh, and then I hear her snap a picture.
You gotta be kidding me.
The square photo slides out, and Kelsey just laughs.
“I tried fixing that sucker three times,” I tell her. “Is that really the one I tossed?”
She holds the picture like a kid holding a stolen cookie. She waves it and waits to see the picture.
She looks at it and grins.
“Let me see.”
As I take the photo in my hand, I stare at the picture that I’ve seen many times before. The one that was sorta blurry and then started to fade out again and then slowly began to fill back in.
My heart beats and my head spins and I don’t say anything.
The picture is crystal clear.
“It actually takes decent photos,” I say.
“It’s perfect.” Kelsey takes the photo. “I’ll take this for safekeeping. Until I can return it safely back to its owner.”
“Make sure you do it as soon as possible.”
“I will,” Kelsey says. “I promise.”
136. Solitary
I’m standing outside leaning against my mom’s car and waiting while she gets her final paycheck from the grill. I scan the main strip of Solitary for what I hope is the very last time.
I can’t say what I’m going to think about this place and these days when I’m older.
I’m still too bruised and too numb to make sense of it all.
But I know this: a guy my age should not have to try and make sense of everything.
A guy my age should be given a little time to grow up and figure things out.
A guy my age shouldn’t have to see a spiritual battle waging on his front lawn.
Kids have enough nonsense to think about without all that going on.
We have burning desires inside of us that we don’t understand. We have burning questions that are never answered because grown-ups are too frightened of giving the wrong answer. We have burning goals that still seem real even if we’re only seventeen or eighteen and life is just beyond the horizon.
We are burning all the time because that’s what we do.
We ache and we
long and we worry and we fear and we laugh and we soar and we fall and get up again.
We all hurt.
It’s what we do with it that counts. It’s how we move on in life with it.
I want to take the silent nights when I looked up at the stars and do something with them.
I want to take the pitch black where I doubted hope would ever come and do something with it.
I want to take all these colors and make something out of them, the way a rainbow came after God wiped out 99.9 percent of humanity.
I came here a kid on my own. But I leave here knowing I’m not alone. I’m not isolated. I’m not solitary.
Not anymore.
I look over the town and know that this snapshot will be the one I always remember. Even if I never, ever come back.
137. All Flowers in Time
Kelsey leaves me with a card and a playlist. Mom, Midnight, and I are already ten minutes away from Solitary on the highway by the time I open the card.
The front has a rainbow-colored iris on it underneath a half sun. Inside is one printed word.
Good-bye!
Underneath are Kelsey’s words.
Good-bye, but not for long!
I made you a playlist to enjoy on the way home. The first song is the one that I found last summer while Googling your name. I never told you how I discovered it. I meant it then, and I mean it now.
Remember this, Chris:
“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.”—John 14:27
I take hope in those words and want you to do the same.
Good things are ahead. For both of us.
I love you.
Kelsey
I try to not show any emotion as Mom drives in silence. She looks heavy with thoughts the same way I am.
“Can I put this on?” I ask her.
“Sure.”
I slip in the disc, and a song begins to play. I’ve never heard it before, so that’s surprising. The guitar starts playing, and I hear a woman’s voice laugh in the background. Then she starts singing.
I recognize the singer from somewhere. From one of those many albums that I heard in Uncle Robert’s cabin.
Then a male voice begins singing.
“All flowers in time bend toward the sun. I know you say that there’s no one for you, but here is one.”
I can’t help laughing.
“What is it?”
I’m about to say “nothing” like I normally would, but I don’t.
I tell my mom exactly what’s up.
“Kelsey.”
“What about her?”
“She wrote me a note last summer. I got it in the mail when I was basically ignoring her. It was a lyric from this song. The guy singing is named Jeff Buckley.”
Mom smiles. “You better keep her close to you. She’s good for you.”
“Yeah I know.”
The two singers keep singing the main chorus and reinforce what I’ve always thought.
That somehow Kelsey knew she was there for me.
She knew it when I didn’t know. When I was running away.
But she was right. All flowers do indeed bend toward the sun.
138. Tornado
You will have questions for the rest of your life.
But you’re not alone.
You will question yourself and your actions all the days you breathe air.
But you’re not abandoned.
You are only one and nobody else is like you.
But your life is not solitary and never will be.
You will keep hurting until your last breath.
But believe the hurt can be taken away.
Reach out for more because more is there. Reach out and believe with a heart as soft as the air flowing through your open fingers. Reach out and know that I’m there.
Reach out and touch faith, Chris.
Stare up in the eye of the storm. Don’t let the tornadoes blow you down.
Don’t ever stop.
Grow and question and wonder and cry and laugh and try and fail.
But don’t ever stop.
Continue on.
As many days and weeks and months and years as you have.
Blinks, all of them, in light of the good grace you’re given.
Keep going.
Look back not with fear and bitterness but with love.
Look ahead with the same love.
139. Somebody
The mountains and the hills disappear. Suddenly I’m back on flatlands looking at the country.
Miles and miles of farmland just passing by.
I don’t sleep. Instead I just stare out and wonder.
I wonder about tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
Part of me feels like I can do anything.
Part of me is afraid.
Part of me knows I’ll always be this way.
Maybe I’ll find myself thinking back to these times as some middle-aged guy sitting there in his family room in a sunken chair with a beer belly and bags under his eyes.
Will I remember this guy, the one sitting in this car seat, thankful for every breath he takes?
Will I forget?
Help me, God, never to forget. Anything.
“You okay?” Mom asks.
I nod. And smile.
I wonder how old Mom feels. I know I feel old, and I’m not even eighteen.
The world is bright and open and endless, and I know something.
I know that somewhere out there, somebody loves me dearly.
Not just the woman driving this car, or the pretty blonde back in the Carolinas, or the man waiting for us in Illinois.
No.
This Somebody created the sun and the moon and the stars, and for some reason He created me too. And loved me.
I had to go all the way to a little town called Solitary, North Carolina to find that Somebody.
Actually, I think He found me.
… a little more …
When a delightful concert comes to an end,
the orchestra might offer an encore.
When a fine meal comes to an end,
it’s always nice to savor a bit of dessert.
When a great story comes to an end,
we think you may want to linger.
And so, we offer …
AfterWords—just a little something more after you
have finished a David C Cook novel.
We invite you to stay awhile in the story.
Thanks for reading!
Turn the page for …
• Three Recommended Playlists
• Behind the Book: Say Anything
• A Snapshot
HURT PLAYLIST
#1 For the Walkman
1. “Black Celebration” by Depeche Mode
2. “Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division
3. “Cities in Dust” by Siouxsie & the Banshees
4. “Head Over Heels/Broken (Live)” by Tears for Fears
5. “The Sun & The Rainfall” by Depeche Mode
6. “Nowhere Fast” by The Smiths
7. “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” by Eurythmics
8. “Start of the Breakdown” by Tears For Fears
9. “The Thinner the Air” by Cocteau Twins
10. “Is Your Love Strong Enough?” by Bryan Ferry
11. “True Faith” by New Order
12. “Asleep” by The Smiths
13. “Just Like Heaven” by The Cure
14. “Late Night,
Maudlin Street” by Morrissey
15. “Somebody” by Depeche Mode
HURT PLAYLIST
#2 For the iPod
1. “Personal Jesus (The Stargate Mix)” by Depeche Mode
2. “A Real Hero” by College
3. “A Drowning” by How to Destroy Angels
4. “Nightcall” by Kavinsky (feat. Lovefoxxx)
5. “Know Who You Are at Every Age” by Cocteau Twins
6. “Need You Now” by Cut Copy
7. “Soon, My Friend” by M83
8. “Eternal Life” by Jeff Buckley
9. “Kingdom” by Dave Gahan
10. “No Light, No Light” by Florence + The Machine
11. “Sæglópur” by Sigur Rós
12. “Enemy” by Melanie C
13. “Wait” by M83
14. “Right Where It Belongs” by Nine Inch Nails
15. “Come Alive” by Foo Fighters
16. “Alone” by Moby
17. “Is Your Love Strong Enough?” by How to Destroy Angels
18. “All Flowers in Time Bend Towards the Sun” by Jeff Buckley (feat. Elizabeth Fraser)
19. “Tornado” by Jónsi
20. “Heartlines” by Florence + The Machine
HURT PLAYLIST
#3 For the movie
1. “Personal Jesus (Pump Mix)” by Depeche Mode
2. “Rubber Head” by Cliff Martinez (from Drive soundtrack)
3. “When You Smile” by College
4. “Lighthouse” by Helios
5. “My Name on a Car” by Cliff Martinez (from Drive soundtrack)
6. “Sacrifice” by Patrick O’Hearn
7. “Constantine” by Thomas Newman (from The Help soundtrack)
8. “I Drive” by Cliff Martinez (from Drive soundtrack)
9. “Courage” by Patrick O’Hearn
10. “Wrong Floor” by Cliff Martinez (from Drive soundtrack)
11. “Sweet Dreams” by Moby
12. “Freeze” by Recoil
13. “End Theme” by College
14. “My Son” by Thomas Newman (from The Help soundtrack)
15. “Tick of the Clock” by Chromatics
Hurt: A Novel (Solitary Tales Series) Page 37
