The next day, there was yet another note shoved in through the mail slot when I arrived at work. It became my new daily routine, and the same event occurred the next day, and the day after that. Even the following weekend, there were notes left on both Saturday and Sunday, and each one, no matter how long or short, they all brought a smile to my face.
My appointments have been going well. The medications seem to be helping. Therapy, although brutal, seems to be making the biggest impact. I’ve put it all out there. I’ve talked about everything. I wish I could say the madness is gone already, but it isn’t. I still feel it sometimes, particularly late at night or when I’m working on a project at work by myself. These guys at the Halfway House I’m working on have some crazy stories of their own, and I can’t tell if I feel crazier or more sane after hearing them. Sometimes I still feel like I have this heavy weight on my chest, and it’s holding me down and constricting my breath. I feel like I can’t move and I can’t get it off of me. But then little by little, the pressure lets up and I can take in some air and I feel okay again. Each time it happens my breath comes quicker than it did the time before. I’m not sure what to make of that, whether I’m healing in some way, or just learning to let go, but I feel it move. That has to be something.
The notes I got each day didn’t necessarily flow together, but I didn’t try to make sense of them or look any further into them. I appreciated the contact, and hoped it would continue. Each day I really hoped he would walk into the shop, or call me, or find me at the beach, and every time another day passed without that happening, it ached a little bit. But perhaps he just wasn’t ready. I had to respect that.
I met the girls for a late afternoon beach day the following Friday, and we hung out late with some old acquaintances and had a bonfire on the beach. Everyone was carefree; laughing, listening to music, telling old stories. It felt comfortable to me, as if I belonged there, yet part of me also felt absent while the night went on. Sure, I had Olivia and Lexi with me, but I missed Lance in these moments, wishing he could share in this with me too. I longed for a time when he could co-exist with me in this life I was trudging through.
The note left for me at the shop the following morning tugged at my heart. I saw you on the beach yesterday afternoon with your friends. I was sitting on my deck reading a book, not paying much attention to outside noises, when I heard a sound that coursed through my entire body. I heard you laugh. It instantly sounded familiar, and made me smile as soon as I saw your blonde hair and blue bathing suit in the distance. I knew it had to be you. I walked down from the deck and saw you with a group of friends not far down the beach. You were tossing around a football and Olivia shoved you into a wave. You were playing around in the water like children, completely oblivious to the rest of the world around you. You looked happy – that’s the part that struck me. For a moment it made me angry, watching you full of such joy in this scene that I was no part of. But I also realized in that moment that as I was, I couldn’t have given you that kind of uncomplicated joy that courses through you every day. I do believe, however, that I’m getting closer. I’m still not convinced that I could be enough for you, Soph. Maybe I’m not strong enough to fight your battles yet as I struggle through my own, but I am working so hard on it. So please, Soph, don’t give up on me. I’m coming for you, I promise.
His words filled up my nerves and I was conflicted. If he was right there, so very close to me, I wished so badly he would’ve come for me then. Even if it was just for a moment, to see him face to face – to talk to him, to touch him – I felt like I needed that for so many reasons. But I also couldn’t fault him for staying back. To see everything you want, right in front of you, unfolding slowly, but to feel like it’s not yours to reach out and grab…I wasn’t entirely sure that’s what it was for him, but in my head, from the letters he wrote, that’s what I imagined he experienced when he saw me.
That afternoon I spent more time with Grandma Eve, though she felt sluggish and weak. She was still in her nightgown at four in the afternoon.
“Can I stay and visit with you for a bit?” I asked politely, making my way slowly into her room. “Jodi said you weren’t feeling well.” I slid open her curtains, hopeful that the sunlight would lift her spirits.
“Too much dancing I suppose,” she answered quietly. “These old bones can’t handle it like they used too.”
“Right, too much dancing,” I said whimsically, as if that was something she really did this morning. “I think I need more dancing in my life,” I muttered.
“Still waiting for the boy to come back?” she replied with a wink. I felt a chill through my bones. She so rarely recalled our conversations from one day to the next. Was she doing that now, or were her words just a coincidence? “That’s the story of a woman’s life, my dear girl - waiting on a boy. Look at me, I’m eighty-nine years old, and I’m still waiting for mine to come back for me.”
I didn’t have the heart to point out that she was only eighty-four, nor did I want to remind her that the day Grandpa Harold came back for her, that would be the day my heart would literally smash into a thousand pieces. Instead, I simply cherished the smile on her face as she stared back warmly at me. In all her confusion, that was one thing she never lost – the idea that my grandfather would eventually come back to get her, sooner or later. That was the most magnificent thought to me, and I suppose that was the real fairytale part of any love story – that the boy would always come back, no matter what.
“He will come for you when he’s good and ready, Grandma,” I said softly. She gently patted the back of my hand.
“I hope he makes it in time for Bingo tonight.”
I wasn’t sure how to even respond to that, so I didn’t. I simply squeezed her hand and she didn’t say another word. She just closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep with a smile still spread across her face like she was seventeen and in love. I wondered what her dreams looked like.
Chapter 22
Three weeks. That’s how long it took for the notes to stop. It was early on a Monday morning, and I hoped so badly there was an explanation. I searched the front of the shop, wondering if the note could’ve moved from an air conditioning vent or from some type of small breeze underneath the weather stripping of the door. After all, it was a blustery morning – surely that was a possibility. I then checked my clock, wondering if I’d arrived too early and he missed his opportunity, but it was a few minutes past seven – the notes were always dropped off before then.
My heart immediately ached. I wasn’t sure what to make of his silence. He’d written me every day since I last saw him at the cabin. I debated whether or not I should break down and call him, but that seemed too drastic for just one missing note.
I reached into my purse to pull out his words from the day before. I still remember the first time I walked into your shop. Apparently not the first time we’d spoken, but most certainly the first time we met. To say I was in awe of my surroundings would be an understatement. That single occurrence was extraordinary to me, in ways I didn’t quite understand at the time. I already thought before that moment that I was beginning to change, though I didn’t know at the time what that looked like. I didn’t know the journey. I didn’t know the challenges I would face. All this time later, have I changed at all? Or am I the still the same man who simply had the extraordinary fortune of walking into your store? All I can think is that there’s magic somewhere in the madness. These things that happen to us in life, we think they’re all things we deserve or don’t deserve, but that can’t be true – I have to believe every person on earth deserves to find a person like you. That has to be true. You are my truth, Sophia.
There was nothing in his words indicating any change. No clues that I could decipher to explain why there was no note today. Perhaps I was looking too much into it? Maybe he had Logan drop off the notes for him on occasion and perhaps he just missed this one? Maybe he overslept? There had to be some kind of explanation.
&nb
sp; I tried to get some work done to take my mind off the entire thing, but I couldn’t function. My brain wouldn’t let me think about anything else. Austin finally arrived about a half hour later, and I needed to talk about it.
“Does the lack of a note definitely have to mean something?” he questioned after I’d explained my own take on everything.
“Maybe not,” I said with a shrug. “But maybe it does. Maybe he’s trying to tell me something by it.”
“So by not communicating, he’s communicating?” he replied sarcastically, trying to rationalize this. “Look, Soph. I’m no expert. Honestly most days I can’t even figure out what I did right to deserve being married to a girl like Anne. It just kind of…happened. So I’m no expert on this subject, I know that. But think back to how you left things. You told him to come for you when he’s ready, right? So let him heed your wishes. Let him come for you when it makes sense to him. Maybe he’s still sorting things out, who really knows. But stop analyzing everything, or you’re going to drive yourself mad.”
His advice was actually better than I expected. I was driving myself crazy thinking about it, and that wasn’t helping anything. We completed our daily tasks around the store and got back to business. We worked together on a few of the recent designs we’d come up with, and I’d made some additional sketches. It felt somewhat therapeutic, getting back into the routine of things.
I stopped by Grandma Eve’s place for lunch. Her spirits were good, and she went on and on about the new residents who’d moved in that week. She couldn’t recall their names, but knew some specific details about each of them. She asked to see the activity calendar for the week, so I grabbed one off the table in the lobby.
“There’s a piano class before dinner,” I read off the paper. “That could be fun. I can come back for that to join you if you’d like, as soon as I leave work...”
“I have plans,” she answered dismissively. “I have to go to a house warming party.”
“Okay,” I said with a slight laugh. I could never understand her brain, the way it picked up some memories and ideas. Sometimes it was still 1957 to her, while other days she clearly recalled details from our conversations the prior day. I could never figure her out. I at least liked the idea of her having these “plans” in her head, as if her ability to always have something to look forward to would carry her through yet another day of me getting to share this life with her, but I always wondered where these ideas came from.
“You can come too,” she offered. “The chariot is coming after tea.”
“I’ll let you ride in your own chariot. I would hate to interrupt your plans. You enjoy your afternoon and maybe I’ll just stop by before bed. We can watch Wheel of Fortune together.”
“I may not be back by then,” she continued, waving a finger at me. “I was promised there would be dancing. You know I love dancing, Maggie. Your father and I spent many a night dancing around our kitchen. So if there’s a kitchen at this party, then there will be dancing.”
“All right, Grandma,” I said with a head nod, wishing her real life this evening could be anything like the one she saw in her head. These past couple years since her diagnosis, I was always so worried about her well-being. The way she spoke now though, as incoherent as it seemed to me in a way, it was still a beautiful, comforting thing to me nonetheless. For her to have some amount of happiness still left in there, despite the rest of the clouds – I was so very grateful for that.
I headed back to the shop, mulling around and placing some supply orders. Some time around four, the front door chimed while Austin and I were in the back attaching hardware to some of the fixtures he’d recently completed. Samantha had already left for the day. “I’ll go check it out,” I said warmly, setting down a screwdriver on the table next to Austin.
“Hi, welcome to Sparks…” I began, immediately quieted once the silhouette in the lobby turned around and his eyes connected with mine.
“Hi,” Lance said softly, stepping toward me. “I was driving by, and I saw the store, and…” he hesitated as he looked back at me. “I need some light fixtures for a new property I’m working on up the beach. Do you make house visits?”
“Don’t you mean site visits?” I corrected him, assuming he was referencing the very first conversation we ever had together in the store.
“Not this time,” he replied as his lips curled up into a smile. “I definitely mean house visits this time.”
“Aren’t you finished with the McCarthy mansion?”
“Yes.”
“So this new residence you’re working on then, is it a project with your brother?”
“He’s helped out a bit here and there, but I’ve done most of the work.”
“So it’s your own project?”
“Well, it’s not for me. It’s for a friend,” he replied casually. “I think you would like it a great deal though. It needs a lot of new fixtures. Lights everywhere – in every room. I can’t imagine anyone else better for the job.”
“We’re not talking about the Rivers Residence?” I asked curiously.
“Sadly no,” he stated, shaking his head. “That dream is dead. But it’s fine. It’s better this way. You told me I had a lot to let go of, right? So I did. I’ve let it all go.”
“I thought you loved that dream,” I said quietly, unsure as to why he would give that one up. He had so many other things to leave behind; I never imagined that would be one of them.
“I told you the first night we spent together, Soph – you’ve made me realize there is so much else to want,” he said seriously as he stepped closer to me. “I don’t know how much I’ve changed in these past few weeks. I have these moments where I feel like I have – where I’m convinced that I’m getting closer and closer to the person I want to be. Other days I still feel like I’m floundering, trying to figure it all out. But I have learned one thing. None of this makes sense without you. The good things don’t feel all that good without you around to share them with. And the bad things just feel so much worse without you by my side.”
He stared back at me with intense eyes.
“I freaked out a little bit when I didn’t see a note today,” I admitted, feeling vulnerable in front of him.
“That’s because everything else I have to say to you has to be face-to-face. Can I take you somewhere?” he asked with a spark in his eyes. He looked like the guy I first met – the one who seemed untroubled and so full of life.
“The sushi restaurant?” I wondered if he in some way was trying to recreate our first date. “Are we going to walk? It’s pouring out.”
“No, we’re not walking anywhere. It’s horrible out today. I want to take you for a drive. I actually thought of the sushi restaurant, but it seemed unoriginal. It’s like we’d already been down that path before. I think to really pick up where we left off, I have to take you somewhere new.”
“Let me check with Austin real quick to see if he has things covered here,” I replied with a genuine smile. I was obviously over the moon to even be having this conversation with Lance in the first place, but to see him here, looking like the boy I first met – the one I poured my heart out too under the stars overlooking the lake – it felt like I was finally being given the opportunity to get all of that back, and I wanted it so bad.
“I already knew he was coming,” Austin stated with a smirk, walking out from the back room.
“You knew?” I repeated in an accusatory tone, unsure if I believed him. He nodded his head. “You listened to me agonize over the fact that there was no note today and you didn’t say a thing,” I added, playfully punching his arm. “You’re the worst.”
“Bros have to stick together on this kind of thing. I couldn’t spoil it,” Austin replied with an endearing tone. “We’ve actually been talking here and there over the past few weeks. He wanted to make sure you were holding up okay throughout all of this. Go. Take the rest of the day. You deserve it more than you realize.” I smiled at him warmly and Lance rea
ched out for my hand.
“Ready?” He pulled out a small black umbrella from the back pocket of his jeans.
I smiled and nodded, prepared for anything he had to offer. He led me out of the store, and we ran quickly through the pouring rain out to his blue pickup truck parked on the other side of the building. We climbed in and it felt familiar and comfortable to me, as if I was just in this seat a day or two ago, versus the reality that weeks had passed since I last sat next to him in the passenger seat.
“We have to make a stop real quick, is that okay?” he asked with a raised brow.
“This is your show, I’m just along for the ride,” I replied with a shrug, completely oblivious to his plan. He smiled back at me, and I was in awe of his face. It wasn’t his classic handsomeness that had me swooning – instead it was the way his eyes looked back into mine. I could tell this meant a great deal to him, and I felt proud in some way. He looked so genuinely happy to me, and I wanted to believe deep down that I had anything to do with it.
Within two minutes, we were pulled into a spot at the Sapphire Retirement Living Center. I stared back at him, feeling confused. “Why are we at Grandma Eve’s place? This is our quick stop?”
“We’re picking up a couple passengers,” he said nonchalantly, as if that was enough to answer all the questions I had.
“We’re taking Grandma Eve on a joyride? We can’t just sign her out of here, she needs twenty-four hour nursing care,” I questioned, hoping this wouldn’t ruin his plans.
As we were talking about it, Jodi, my grandma’s day nurse, was escorting Grandma Eve out of the building with a giant colorful umbrella. They made their way to the truck and Lance helped them in.
The Weight of Madness Page 20
