Keepsake: True North #2

  “I wish Zach could have known the stronger me. The healthier one,” I told her.

  “But he can,” she said gently. “Every time you confront the things that scare you, it’s a step back to feeling like yourself again. Right now it feels like you spend all day talking about your sorrow. But it won’t always feel like that. Every time we stare it in the face, it becomes a little more banal. Pretty soon you’ll bump into your sorrow on the street, and just give it a little wave. It will still be familiar, but not so startling.”

  “I’m going to kick it in the shins.”

  “Have at it,” Dr. Becky said with a smile.

  The antidepressants turned me into a slug. I fell into bed before ten and could barely drag myself out of bed in the morning. My expensive team of experts took their time tinkering with the medication and dosage.

  “You won’t always need the meds,” Dr. Becky promised.

  I hoped she was right, because they made me feel even more like an invalid.

  To be fair, my parents were lovely during these difficult days. Somehow my mother was a model of restraint. She didn’t nag or hover. And the toughest question she asked me during the first week was which comedy I wanted to watch with her on TV.

  One time I woke up screaming, and she just sat down on the edge of my bed and held my hand. She didn’t look terrified anymore. I think I’d managed to burn through all our mutual terror already. We’d moved on to a place where the worst had already happened, and all there was to do now was pick up the pieces.

  Every night I went to bed alone in my old childhood bedroom. It was bigger than the room I’d had in the bunkhouse. And quieter.

  I missed Zach terribly. I wanted to call him just to hear his kind voice in my ear. I wanted to get into my car and drive up to the Shipleys’, just to get one more of his hugs.

  But I didn’t do it. I wasn’t ready. If I saw Zach again, I needed it to be at a moment when I didn’t need him for a crutch.

  On my hardest days, the ones where I couldn’t stop crying, I worried that day would never come.

  31

  Letters

  Dear Lark,

  According to these instructions from your doctor that Ruth pried out of your mom, we can only reach you by writing letters on paper, and we’re supposed to stick to happy, casual topics.

  That’s easy for me because you’re my happy thought.

  Don’t feel obligated to write back. I really mean that. I’d rather you just concentrate on feeling better. But I think of you whenever I walk into the Shipleys’ kitchen, or pass the door to your room in the bunkhouse. So I thought you might want an update on what’s happening here.

  Audrey is back! Griffin is so smiley it’s like his face is broken. Kyle teased the crap out of him the first few days, but of course Griff doesn’t care. By the way—Audrey loves the kitchen in the bungalow. She cried when we showed it to her. That shade of ivory paint you chose for the woodwork looks great, by the way.

  We’re picking the last of the late season apples this week and next. Then Kyle and Kieran will go back to their parents’ place, and Griff and I will spend all day pressing cider. The first barrels of the season are almost ready for bottling.

  It’s cold in the mornings now. When I let the cows into the dairy barn, you can see the puffs of their breath from those big velvet noses. And Griff sent the male calves off to freezer camp, so we’ll be eating (humanely raised) veal soon.

  The calves were really cute, though. Griff always looks a little extra grumpy on the day he sends them off to the butcher. And Dylan found two or three different reasons he couldn’t be around when we loaded them onto the truck.

  I’m going to sign off now because Audrey is in the kitchen making her famous braised pork enchiladas and Dylan wants to set the table where I’m writing.

  By the way, May is at the other end of the table, also trying to write you a letter. She keeps tearing off sheets of paper and crumpling them up into balls, though. So I’m thinking you might be waiting another week to get hers.

  All my best,

  Zach

  * * *

  Dear Lark,

  At Thursday dinner Maeve asked me to read her a story. Ruth has this basket of children’s books she keeps for Maeve. So I read that one about the red hen who asks all the other animals to help bake the bread, but they won’t say yes until it’s time to eat it.

  Maeve pointed at the chicken and told me she was a “red sex-linked, maybe a Golden Comet, except the feet are wrong.” I laughed my ass off because I’ll bet most toddlers can’t name the species of their storybook chickens.

  Then on Sunday I took Ruth to church, and Father Peters read from Thessalonians. “For even when we were with you, we gave you this rule: The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat.”

  Funny, right? I don’t know what message God is trying to send me, though. I picked about a million apples this week. Maybe He wants two million.

  We had a dusting of snow last night. It’s melted already, but Dylan got excited and waxed his snowboard. Every year he asks me if I want to learn. Maybe this year I’ll say yes.

  Audrey has been testing pastries for the coffee shop that she’s opening with Zara. There’s an apple turnover so good it made me want to cry. But my favorite thing so far is a pumpkin whoopie pie with cream cheese frosting.

  Now I’m hungry again, darn it.

  In other news, Chastity already got a seasonal job working at the pharmacy in Colebury. Isaac has to drive her there for now, until she can take driving lessons and save up for a car. I told her I’d help her find a junker, and that Jude and I would help fix it up.

  I hardly recognize Chastity. They took her to the salon for a trim, and she got a buzz cut instead. Leah is amused. She says that Chastity’s M.O. is to spend each day showing Paradise Ranch her middle finger.

  Getting sleepy now. I’m writing this from my bunk, and Kyle started snoring already. A week from now I’ll be alone in here. I’ve fired up the masonry heater so it’s nice and warm. I’ve started studying for the GED, so the quiet will help with that.

  Be well, Lark. Look kindly at yourself. That’s all I ask of you.

  Best,

  Zach

  * * *

  Dear Lark,

  I started this letter a hundred times, because I want to show you some love in a way that’s not a burden. My quandary: I don’t want to ask your forgiveness at a time when you’re already going through a lot.

  But I am sorry. You were offended that I kept a secret from you. It didn’t feel good, trust me. So I’m just going to try to explain why.

  Having you as my friend and roommate in college was the best thing ever. From the minute we met I loved you as a friend. You made college more fun every single day. And no matter what shenanigans we got up to, I knew you had my back.

  That’s just priceless. I love you so hard for it.

  So when I started to realize I was attracted to you, it scared me. I wasn’t expecting that to happen, and I had no idea what to think. Honestly I just hoped it would go away. I dated boys. And of course I fooled around with that girl down the hall.

  That incident didn’t help, either. I did it because I was trying to have an “aha!” moment about sex with girls. I thought I’d love it or hate it, and then I’d learn something important about myself. But it was just meh, because I wasn’t very attracted to her. So I became more confused, not less.

  Whenever you and I were together, though, I never worried. We were friends and that was more important than anything. I always knew you loved me. I also knew you’d never love me that way.

  The year that dad died you were AMAZING. Seriously. I was so blindsided and afraid and mad and sad. It was an awful, awful time. But you were just there. You hugged me and steered me through the funeral. Afterward, you collected notes from all the classes I’d missed. I wouldn’t have made it through that semester without you. Not kidding, here. I would have dropped out and set myself back a semester.

/>   I’m so, so grateful. Pass the tissues. :(

  But I only loved you more after that. I didn’t tell you how I felt because I didn’t want to scare you off. If our friendship had dimmed even 1% from my confession, that would have been unacceptable to me. So I just sat on this big secret. I swallowed all these feelings knowing that it was a big lie of omission but I didn’t feel like I had a choice.

  Believe me, I never doubted your worth as a friend. Not for two seconds did I worry that you’d reject me or anyone else for being queer. I know you better than that. If the object of my attraction would have conveniently been anyone else, ours would have been an easy conversation.

  I just didn’t want to make it weird between us. So I ended up making it weird between us. Ugh. I’m so sorry.

  Part of the work I’ve been doing in AA is talking about my bisexuality. Some of my drinking had to do with not wanting to face that. The more people I talk to, the more I hear that crushing on your best friend is a queer rite of passage. So thanks for making me a cliché, babe. :) Thanks a ton.

  I know you’re going through a lot, so I don’t feel like I should ask anything of you. But all I want is this: when you’re ready, please let me know that we can get past this? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was in my heart. Please forgive me.

  Love always,

  May

  * * *

  Dear May,

  I’m not feeling very eloquent yet, but I had to respond to your letter. I love you so much, and I’m sorry to have ever inadvertently caused you any pain. I don’t blame you even a little bit for keeping your secret. There’s no Best Friend Clause which requires you spill your guts when you’re not ready.

  I probably would have done the exact same thing.

  If one of us owes an apology, it’s me. I came to Vermont with a heavy burden. There probably is a Best Friend Clause which demands that if you show up at your best friend’s front door feeling like a grenade with the pin pulled, you should probably warn a girl.

  So the moment when Daphne spilled your secret was a moment when I just couldn’t handle one more emotion. I felt like the most toxic human alive. Like I’d spent the last two months just inflicting all my issues on your family. And Zach. :( To hear that I’d also hurt you made me feel terrible.

  But reading your letter has reminded me of something important. I forgot about that time after your father died, and how much you needed me. I’ve spent the last couple of months hating my own neediness and feeling terrible for it. But of course I didn’t judge your moment of need at all. I was happy to be there for you.

  The circumstances weren’t the same, of course. But my doctor has been trying to convince me to cut myself a break. To stop feeling so much guilt.

  Your letter just made that a little easier. So thank you.

  Again, I apologize for trying not to let you know how bad things were with me. I thought I could shove it under the mat and pick apples and forget.

  You mean so much to me. That will never ever change.

  Love,

  Lark

  P.S. Please tell Zach that his letters are perfect. They lift me up completely. I’m not quite ready to write him yet, because I haven’t sorted my emotions well enough to make any damn sense. But every letter makes me want to give him a big squeeze. —L

  * * *

  Dear Lark,

  It’s almost Christmas. Daphne is home on break, and she’s decided she’s speaking to me again. It may have something to do with whomever she’s texting all day long. She smiles at her phone like she just won the lottery.

  The Shipleys got a big tree and set it up in the corner of the dining room. It smells fantastic.

  Did I ever tell you that my first Christmas was just four years ago? We didn’t have Christmas at the ranch, because there’s no mention of celebrating Christmas in the bible. (Did I also mention that the people who raised me didn’t know how to have fun?)

  I’m taking the social studies GED test right after New Year’s. It’s not that hard, although this is the first time I’ve had homework since I was a kid. I’d avoided this because I thought it would make me feel like a dunce. But it hasn’t. Instead, I’m thinking—heck, I can do this. Why did I think I couldn’t do this?

  Next task: Christmas shopping. For the Shipleys I always get something tasty that they wouldn’t buy for themselves. Last year I bought imported chocolates and champagne for Christmas. But now May doesn’t drink and Audrey brought a bunch of chocolate home from France.

  So I need a new idea. Like, yesterday.

  I know I told you not to write to me. But if you are suddenly struck with a great idea for what to buy them, please feel free to shout it out. I feel like Harry Potter trying to pick out a gift for all the Weasleys.

  Love,

  Zach

  32

  Lark

  Sometimes the end of a stage in your life doesn’t announce itself with trumpets or fireworks. Sometimes it just seeps in, like the smell of snow on the air as fall gives way to winter.

  When I began to feel like myself again, it was a gradual thing. My mind began to become preoccupied with ideas that didn’t have anything to do with Guatemala. And in therapy I stopped arguing with my doctor.

  I didn’t notice the change until I began to get bored. I started choosing movies without any fear that they’d trigger me. (Although they sometimes did.) I began to surf the web, looking for jobs and ideas. My dragons took long naps on their chains and forgot to frighten me with their fiery roar.

  Then one day I picked up my phone and impulsively touched May’s number.

  Maybe if she hadn’t answered, another month would have gone by before we spoke. But that’s not what happened. The moment after I touched the button, she said hello right in my ear.

  “Hi,” I said, startled at my own nerve. “It’s Lark.”

  “Hi sweetie,” she said, sounding every bit as warm and familiar as I would have hoped. “How are things with you?”

  “They’re better,” I admitted. “I know it’s true, because I’m more bored than scared.”

  She laughed. “Okay? That could be a good sign, right?”

  “Trust me, it is. What have you been up to?” The question sounded frustratingly stilted to my own ear. I really did understand why she’d been worried about things getting weird between us, because that would be an unparalleled disaster.

  “Studying for finals. AA meetings. It’s a laugh a minute with me. But we’ve also been planning Griff and Audrey’s wedding.”

  “Yeah? What are they going to do?”

  “An outdoor farm shindig in June.”

  “Nice. In the orchard? What’s the rain contingency?”

  “They’ll rent a tent, but there’s no indoor option.”

  “Risky!”

  “I know, right? Griff will just command the heavens not to rain, and they’ll probably obey, because he’s such a grump.”

  I smiled into the phone, because May sounded like May, not a stranger. There was hope for us yet. “Has Audrey gone dress shopping? Where do you get a wedding dress in Vermont, anyway?”

  “You don’t. We’ll have to come to Boston.”

  “You can visit me,” I offered immediately.

  “Of course.”

  Still grinning like a fool, I confessed my curiosity about something. “Can I ask you a really needy question?”

  “Yeah. Shoot.”

  “Is there any reason why Zach didn’t write me a letter this week? He’s been like clockwork. Every Tuesday I get one…”

  “Oh man. Maybe it’s a tactic to make you wonder.”

  “You think?”

  She giggled. “No. Zach got another flu, the poor guy. He slept for three days straight.”

  “Oh!”

  “He’s okay, though,” she said quickly. “He’s much better today.”

  “Are you sure?” My heart thumped against my ribcage at the thought of him sick again.

  “I’m positive. And the doctor sa
id he’d eventually stop getting so sick every year.”

  “Good.”

  “Why don’t you visit him, if you’re so worried?”

  “Well…” I cleared my throat. “I want to see him. And you of course.”

  “Lark, you don’t have to be careful with me like that. We’re still tight, whether you have a boyfriend or not. That was always true, you know? You were never that kind of friend who ditched me whenever the boyfriends came along.”

  She was right. “You’re too important to ditch.”

  “I know, okay? Jeez. What if you came up here next week? A couple days after Christmas?”

  “All right,” I said quickly. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

  “Do it. Let’s not be weird. Except in a fun way.”

  “Deal.” I laughed. “Maybe I should send a note to Zach first, just to make sure he’s okay with me visiting. He’s been sweet to me with his letters. But sometimes when someone leaves you, it’s better when they stay gone.”

  “Do you want to stay out of his life?” May asked.

  “Hell no. I miss him like crazy.”

  “Trust me when I tell you that he wants to see you, too.”

  “Yeah?” Hearing that made me so happy. Dr. Becky would probably have me examining that reaction later.

  “Oh yeah. He’s not mad, honey. He’s trying to move on, but he still loves you. I think he always will.”

  I closed my eyes right there on the phone, picturing Zach’s smile. If I could see that smile aimed at me one more time, I knew I would do my best not to fuck it up. “Okay,” I said softly. “I’ll visit. Let me talk to my parents and then we’ll iron out the details.”

  “I can’t wait!” May said.

  “Me neither.