Elastic Heart

“So, Nami, there are millions of Namis experiencing the same pain as you. There are millions of Namis going through your exact situation. You are never alone.” I didn’t know how to respond, so naturally I looked away. In truth, it was probably the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me.

It had only been a few days since Law had shown up bloody and begging for redemption, but it felt like forever ago. Time was weird like that. When you didn’t sleep, the days stretched on and on, almost feeling like they never ended. My relationship with Law was lost somewhere in that time. We hadn’t defined it, but we hadn’t destroyed it either.

Since then, he hadn’t texted or called. My phone stayed silent, dead like a brick in my pocket. I remembered wanting the buzzing to stop and now that it had, I was at a loss. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was impossible to deny: I missed Law. I tried lying to myself, I tried constructing a fence of denial, but each time I reached for my phone to check the time, the pang in my gut reminded me of the truth. I missed Law.

I missed his texts. I missed his obstinate force. I missed his stubborn will. I missed him. I could have easily picked up the phone and called him…

I shook my head and stuck my key in the lock. That morning I’d left to go steal some heat from a grocery store. I’d left to get warm but I’d also left to forget. Once upon a time I’d run from my old apartment because it was riddled with memories. I’d seen Morris everywhere I went. While avoiding hypothermia at the grocery store, though, I realized something: I saw Law everywhere.

I saw Law in my apartment. I saw Law on my couch. I felt him against my skin. I heard him in the wind. The yearning I had for him was so visceral that I almost wished for Morris again. It was so much easier to hate. Hate was fuel but love was fire, and it was slowly burning me up inside out. I kicked the door open, ready to drown myself in some whiskey, but the sight I saw stunned me to the spot.

Flowers. Flowers everywhere. I put a hand to my mouth, shocked. Dandelions covered my couch and chair. The golden crowns were like small suns in my apartment. They made my dismal, dingy living room shine. There were so many of them that they smothered the floor and made it invisible.

It was beautiful.

After months of psychological torture and abuse, though, my first instinct was to run. I saw the display and assumed it meant something terrible.

I reached behind my back and gripped the doorknob, ready to sprint out of my apartment and ready to flee, when I noticed a card lying on the couch. My hand still held the knob but sweat now made it slippery. What if this was some kind of trick? What if Morris was sending me a message?

As my thoughts started to spiral down that slippery, knife-infested slope that had been my home the past few months, I exhaled. I released the bad thoughts, the breath feeling like noxious gas. Releasing my grip, I stepped into the apartment. Getting over Morris wouldn’t be easy, but I had to start somewhere. Still, that didn’t mean I couldn’t bring my gun along for the ride.

I pulled out my .22 and walked to the couch, picking up the card like it was an explosive. It was cream colored and textured with no identifying features. Just as I was about to open the card, my phone rang. My heart skipped a beat when I saw who was calling and I stumbled, nearly dropping my gun and the card.

“Hello?” I asked, answering on the first ring.

“Did you get my flowers?” Law’s heady, deep brogue was evident even through the crackle of my shitty phone.

I glanced around my apartment. “You sent these? Why?”

“I’m trying to apologize, Nami.” I frowned even though I knew he couldn’t see it. The flowers were extraordinary and breathtaking, but they were just flowers.

“You think a couple of flowers can fix us?” I whispered the words because I almost didn’t want him to hear. I wanted to say I loved the flowers. I wanted to say I was ready to trust him again. I wanted to throw all the shit and garbage that had piled up between us out the window and just roll around in the dandelions.

“No.” Law paused for a minute. “But they’re a start.” I picked up a fully formed dandelion. Its head was round and wispy. Where had Law gotten so many? I thought they were beautiful, but most considered them a weed—not to mention it was the dead of winter in Utah. I blew the head, watching the wisps float away.

“It must have taken a while to get these,” I said at last.

“It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Over and over again Law had said I was worth something. When I felt useless, he showed me I was useful. Still, a glare the size of an eclipse hung over our relationship, and its name was Morris. Law had lied about so many things, I wasn’t sure where to begin unraveling. “Nami, let me show you something. Let me prove to you that I’m in this.”

“I don’t know…” My fingers trailed across the flowers.

“I’ll pick you up in thirty. Dress for cold weather.” Law hung up the phone, leaving me with that cryptic statement. I was ready to huff and sigh, ready to forget him along with his secrets, when I remembered the letter in my hand. I opened the card and read.

Dandelions for my Dandelion. I would pick a thousand of these everyday if it showed you how much you’re worth.

“So what is this? A kidnapping?” I asked as Law opened the door of his Range Rover for me with a grin. I slid inside, frowning.

“Do you know of many kidnappings that start out like this?” Law shut the door and made his way to the driver’s seat. “I’d be a pretty shitty kidnapper if I let you know where we were going first.”

“You haven’t told me where we’re going,” I pointed out.

Law started the engine and pulled away from the curb. “Boston.”

“Boston?” I rounded on him. “What the fuck is in Boston?” When he’d said, “Dress for cold weather,” I’d thought he was taking me up to Park City. A thirty-minute drive, a romantic cabin—something to go along with the huge display of dandelions. I’d even worn some lingerie. Well, what I considered lingerie: black underwear.

Seriously, what the fuck was in Boston?