Page 8 of Penn
I remember the night I met her. I remember every star in the sky that night. I remember the moon, and all the sounds, and the heat. The fucking oppressive heat. I remember us. And I don’t believe for a second she means to tell me no, to say no to a possible futureus, but I’m a real man and I know thatnomeansno. Even if it doesn’t—it fuckingdoes.
It fucking sucks.
“Okay,” I sigh. “If that’s what you want, Hearth. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Thank you, Penn,” she says quietly as I turn to stride out.
“Yeah. No sweat.”No sweat?
Fucking idiot, Penn.
I leave the hospital, mentally kicking myself, and honestly, her too, the whole way to my truck and back to my home.
I try not to believe it was Fate that brought us together the way that it did. Fate can’t possibly be that goddamn cruel. But something, however sick and twisted that something was, did bring us into each other’s lives in that moment, in that place, and now we’re forever linked together.
She knows it too.
Four
Hearth
“Grab a clasp for me, Hearth. I think this one’s about done, don’t you?”
I reach behind me and fish one out of the storage tray. The necklace Mom just made is a Gigi stripe pattern made of pink, blue, and green seed beads. It kind of matches the bracelet I’m working on—a gold one, with dainty enamel beads dotted throughout, in the same colors Mom chose for the necklace, plus a little pop of orange.
Yep, we are sitting together on the floor in her living room making jewelry. Good lord, we are wholesome.
“It’s pretty,” I say, spying the necklace, as I hand the clasp over to her. “Not your usual style though.”
“It’s for you.”
“What? Aww. You shouldn’t have.”
She smiles, in that motherly way that, coming from anyone else, would be placating. But from her it’s warm and kind. “I figure you can wear it on your date with Penn.”
“Aw youshouldn’thave.” I give her a lamby expression.
“Oh what’s the problem? C’mere, let’s see it on you.”
I loosen out the sigh from my chest as we stand up together and go look in the mirror. My eyes seize up again as they land on my face.It’s rude to stare, I almost seem to have to remind myself. As if it isn’t even me who is looking back. I drop my gaze to the necklace that falls just right, and the colors look great on my skin tone.
“I love it. Seriously.”
“I know. I do too.”
Such a Mom answer.
I don’t know if I’ll get used to that reflection.Thatperson. It doesn’t look like meorfeel like me. I never realized how much it mattered what I looked like. How much the me I saw on the outside was the me I identified with. It’s discomfiting…to think I don’t really know who I am on the inside. To not feel like myself just because I appear different—which is so counter to everything I ever thought I believed.
And honestly? It makes me feel like a terrible person.
Both the necklace and bracelet are so…beachy. So Miami. So fun. There’s no phoenix rising from the ashes. No butterfly metamorphosis. No half-moon or sun or star to remind us how short life is, how fast it all goes, how much it all doesn’t really seem to matter down here on this rock. Just color and vibes and fun.
I love us for that.
I still have recovery ahead of me, mostly physical therapy after being in the hospital for so long, but at least I’m home. The thing that stinks about being home is that Penn can’t as easily visit me here. Not without it being kind of…awkward, and having to be planned. Which has not happened. Visiting me was a burden I could take off his shoulders by finally coming home.
Mom tries to convince me that he meant it, that he doeswantto see me again. Like on a “date.” Why he would want to, I have no earthly idea. I am convinced that he only came to see me in the first place because he felt some professional pull to do so. He was the only other person around when the accident happened, so maybe he just felt hehadto know that I was going to be okay.