Lost Girls(79)

“Hey.”

What do you say to the boy you fell in love with between middle school and the near-murder of one of your closest friends?

“I thought you weren’t ‘good for me.’” That’s what came out of my mouth. I think it surprised both of us.

“I made some mistakes, but I can try to be better,” he said awkwardly. His magic way with words faltered, but the expression in his eyes melted my heart. “Besides I…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

A breeze blew through that tree and the notes spun around me. I wondered how many of these poems were new, like the one about that day in the hospital, how many of these had he written since we broke up.

“Maybe we can start over,” he said. “Wanna go for a ride?”

I glanced back at the house, at all the girls who were yelling go, and my dad and my mom who were nodding, and my little brother who was grinning like he had a clue what true love really was.

It was this.

It was second chances. And forgiving. Over and over.

“Yes.” That’s what I said, but inside, I was saying, yes, always, yes, definitely, yes, and why did you wait so long and, by the way, yes, so let’s go, okay.

And a few minutes later we were on his bike, my arms wrapped around his waist, my head nestled in his shoulder, the smell of his shampoo like sunshine. We were flying, faster and faster, wings spread wide. Together. We were together and he was here and he had been in love with me, even before I knew it.

Like ravens and swans, different but the same, wings spread wide, feathers catching the sunlight and the wind, we flew up one mountain road and down another.

He was back and we were together again.

And this was a day that I would remember for the rest of my life.