Fortuity (Transcend 3)

She clears her throat, sitting on the end of the bed as I run my fingers through my wet hair. “What you said earlier …”

“It was desperate … hopeful … but mostly desperate. If you’re never ready, then you’re never ready. I just had to say it so I could leave without any regrets.” I try to put her mind at ease before she chews a hole in that sexy lip of hers.

Gracelyn plays with her bracelet and nods. “Before … everything.” She laughs a little. “Before Brandon. Before I had the chance to fall in love. I dreamed of you. You didn’t have a face or a name. Your voice was simply a medley of my favorite love songs, the whisper in my head when reading my favorite poems about love. You were the reason I woke up two hours before school to do my hair and makeup in hopes that some boy would give me a second glance. It was you … the idea of you. The dream of you. The promise from my adoring mother that someday I would find my Romeo. When my brain managed to think about something other than hockey or boys … my heart was still thinking of you.”

She curls her hair behind her ear and risks a quick, almost shy, glance up at me. “It’s hard to believe that Brandon was nothing more than something … someone I had to experience to find my way to you. And now it’s hard to understand how you’re here. Yet, you’re leaving. And six months ago, I would have loaded up my car and followed you anywhere and just … figured out how to deal with my past one day at a time, but I can’t follow you. And you can’t stay. And that’s okay. It means we have people who need us … need us to do the right thing more than we need each other right now. So …”

She blots the corners of her eyes. Her bravery is just as beautiful as she is. “I’m going to focus on doing right by Gabe. And in my free time, I’m going to work on these memories that still haunt me. And if some unforeseen path brings us together, I will feel blessed beyond words.” Her red eyes meet mine. “And if it doesn’t, I want you to know … you’ve been everything the ten-year-old version of me dreamed you would be. And more. So much more.”

I don’t know what to say. I had no idea we were coming to San Diego so this woman could stitch up every single one of my wounds, kiss every scar, and remind my heart that it has an infinite capacity to love. Swallowing past the boulder in my throat, I run my hand across her dresser to a stack of photos.

“Don’t look at those!” Gracelyn jumps up and reaches for them, but I hold them up out of her reach.

“What do we have here?”

“Ugh!” She steps back and covers her face. “Kyle used to take photos. Candid ones and never anything flattering. My mom brought them from home. She’s been going through some old boxes of his that they still have, looking for things that Gabe might want. For whatever crazy reason, she thought I’d want those. I don’t. They will get burned.”

I grin, flipping through them. A young, long-haired Gracelyn with ten times as many freckles. Several with her tongue out, but not at the camera. He caught her sticking her tongue out at someone else. There’s one of her with her fingers in her ears. One of her sleeping on a blanket in the sun, drool all down her cheek.

“Stop!” She shakes her head. “They are terrible. It was my first summer home from college. All of my freckles had converged into one big freckle face. So embarrassing.” She covers her face.

“This one.” I set the other ones down. “I’m taking this one.”

“You’re doing no such thing.” She reaches for the picture, but I turn away from her. “Fine … at least show me which one so I can accurately plan my level of embarrassment if you show it to anyone else.”

“It’s this one.” I hold it with both hands up in the air so she can see it, but not actually reach it.

“My eyes are closed.” She rolls her eyes.

“You’re giggling. I can almost hear it. And you’re wearing a bikini. The sun is on your beautiful face. It’s … perfect.”

Her smile fades a little as she takes a second look at it. “I was trying to get some sun, and Kyle kept standing in the way, making this huge shadow over me. I was getting pissed off. He tried to apologize. I wanted nothing to do with it—stuck my lip out in a permanent frown. He bet me ten bucks he could make me laugh. I said no because I knew it meant he’d tickle me. He said he could do it without laying a finger on me. So I agreed.” She continues to study the photo, her smile slowly recovering.