Page 12 of Far From You


  confused

  I’m not ready

  for Blaze to leave,

  but he says

  he needs to run an errand

  for his mom.

  I tell him

  to hurry back.

  He’s only gone

  for a minute.

  I laugh.

  “I knew you couldn’t stay away long.”

  He smiles.

  “Claire’s here.

  She brought you doughnuts.”

  I think of her

  standing there,

  doughnuts in hand.

  I want to be happy,

  but instead

  I feel my heart

  droop like a daisy

  at night.

  She didn’t

  want to make up

  before.

  She didn’t want

  to talk it out.

  She didn’t want

  to be my friend.

  I broke my phone

  because of her.

  A phone that could have

  saved us

  from all

  that we endured.

  I don’t get

  why she’s here.

  She thought I was dead,

  so now she loves me again?

  “I’m not ready to see her,” I tell him.

  Because it’s the truth.

  I’m not.

  time to start stitching

  A little while later,

  Dad walks in

  carrying Ivy.

  I squeal

  when I see her.

  He places her

  in my arms,

  and I can’t believe

  how good

  and strong

  and healthy

  she looks.

  “Ali,” he says, “I need to tell you how sorry I am.”

  My eyes move

  from the baby

  to him.

  I can tell

  it’s hard for him.

  “I pushed you away,” he continues.

  “You remind me so much of your mom.

  And it hurt, I guess.”

  “I didn’t exactly make it easy for you.”

  It’s not all your fault.”

  Ivy is kicking her legs,

  waving her arms,

  and looking at me with her

  big, beautiful eyes.

  Thankfulness

  oozes from my pores.

  She is here.

  She is strong.

  She is fine.

  “It’s so weird how much I love her now,” I say.

  “I guess something good did come out of being lost.

  I’m just sorry it took a stupid crisis.”

  “I don’t think it matters how hearts are mended, Al.

  Just that they are, you know?”

  I think of Claire,

  going home,

  an expert mender

  when it comes to clothes,

  but unable to mend

  her broken heart

  without my help.

  She has the needle,

  but I have the thread.

  “Can I borrow your phone, Dad?”

  the best medicine

  Blaze and Claire

  walk in

  at the same time.

  Claire is still holding

  the bag of doughnuts.

  And Blaze is holding

  a brand-new,

  supersweet

  guitar.

  “Blaze! Seriously?”

  He puts it in my lap

  and gives me a kiss.

  “Figured you’d want to start writing.

  And playing.

  I know that’s how you deal with stuff.”

  I look at Claire.

  “I’m sorry, Ali,” she says.

  “You can write whatever songs you want.”

  I smile at her.

  “No.

  You were right.

  People don’t want to feel sad all the time.

  I’ve learned I sure as hell don’t.”

  She comes over,

  gives me a hug,

  kisses my cheek,

  and hands me my

  doughnuts.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she says

  with tears in her eyes.

  “Me too,” I tell her.

  “And I’m sorry too.

  For everything.”

  She hugs me again,

  and when she stands up,

  she says, “So come on.

  Pass out the doughnuts!

  I’m starving.”

  I strum on my guitar,

  then hand it to Blaze

  so I can eat.

  Doughnuts

  Music.

  Love.

  It doesn’t get

  any better

  than this.

  clear skies

  Ivy and I

  are both released.

  Vic has to stay

  a little longer

  because she lost some toes

  and needs to start

  rehabilitation.

  When I visit her

  before we go,

  she’s holding

  her sleeping baby,

  and the picture

  of the two of them

  is just how it should be.

  She pats the edge

  of her bed

  and asks me

  to sit with her.

  “I don’t know how you did it,” I tell her.

  “Me neither,” she says.

  “I just walked and walked,

  even when I didn’t think I could go any further.

  It’s a miracle the search team found me.

  I think an angel was looking out for me.”

  When she says that,

  I can only nod

  because I know

  it’s true for all of us.

  Outside the window

  there is blue sky,

  sunshine,

  and fluffy white clouds.

  In a few minutes

  I’ll be out there

  again.

  Will I ever

  think of the world

  the same

  again?

  Will I ever

  squeal in delight

  at the sight of snow

  again?

  Her voice jars me

  from my thoughts.

  “Thank you, Ali.

  For taking care of her.”

  I reach over

  and grab Ivy’s

  little hand.

  I don’t want to worry.

  I don’t want to be sad.

  I have so much to be happy about.

  So I smile and say,

  “Next time I baby-sit,

  can we have a pizza delivered?”

  helicopter dog

  Cobain

  is there

  as I open the door,

  and I think

  he might lift himself

  off the ground,

  his tail

  is wagging

  so hard.

  discoveries

  It’s dinnertime,

  and Dad asks me

  if I want to

  help him make enchiladas.

  I see the can of sauce

  on the kitchen counter,

  and I remember the jingle

  we made up

  together.

  As soon as I

  start singing,

  he joins in.

  “Sweet Fiesta Verde Sauce,

  Verde Sauce,

  Verde Sauce.

  Sweet Fiesta Verde Sauce,

  Frankenstein’s lip gloss!”

  We laugh when we get

  to the final line,

  and I tell him

  enchiladas sound great.

  But then Ivy cries

  and I instinctively

  reach down
r />   and pick her up

  to comfort her.

  After a few seconds,

  her mouth curves into

  a big grin.

  “Dad, she smiled!

  She smiled at me!”

  I talk

  baby talk to her

  and she keeps smiling.

  “That grin’s bigger than the Cheshire-Cat’s,” Dad says.

  And then I remember.

  “Did the car make it back here?

  Or the stuff in the car?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Not yet.

  Why?”

  My brain is thinking,

  trying to remember

  if I have another copy.

  “Can you make dinner by yourself?

  Ivy and I want to look for something.”

  “Of course,” he says.

  When I find the book

  on my bookcase,

  I flip through the pages,

  wondering how

  I will ever know

  which part is

  Mom’s favorite.

  Something about

  yesterday.

  Flipping

  skimming

  flipping

  skimming.

  And then

  a mark in the book

  catches my eye.

  It’s underlined.

  Did she do that?

  Has it been there this whole time,

  and I never noticed?

  I read the line out loud.

  “‘…it’s no use going back to yesterday,

  because I was a different person then.’”

  “I guess it means

  everything’s always changing,” I tell Ivy.

  “Nothing’s ever the same.”

  I stop and grab

  a piece of paper,

  lyrics coming at me

  faster than my hand

  can write them down.

  Inspired.

  As I write,

  it’s as if Mom is there

  next to me.

  She understands.

  She always did.

  And suddenly

  I feel the need

  to go to my closet,

  get the painting she gave me,

  and place it on my desk.

  “You know what?” I say to Ivy

  as I think about our time in the snow.

  “The more you can share,

  the less lost you feel.”

  flying through the rabbit hole

  a song

  by Alice Andreeson

  Everything’s always changing.

  Nothing stays the same.

  Yesterday’s gone forever,

  I’ve got memories and my name.

  But like Alice I grow bigger,

  and I shrink back, yes, it’s true.

  It’s the ebbs and flows of life,

  it’s the rabbit hole we go through.

  But with angels we will make it.

  And with angels we will fly.

  We will keep on going forward.

  We will fly, yes, we will fly.

  We will fly, yes, we will fly.

  Friends will keep us happy.

  Our family keeps us warm.

  We’ll party through the good times

  and hold tight through the storms.

  Because with angels we will make it.

  And with angels we will fly.

  We will keep on going forward.

  We will fly, yes, we will fly.

  We will fly, yes, we will fly.

  Wonderland is here now.

  Don’t know what we might see.

  Yesterday’s gone forever.

  But my future’s up to me.

  What a future it will be….

 


 

  Lisa Schroeder, Far From You

 


 

 
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