This Close to Okay(89)
A Sunday Afternoon in Louisville at the Speed Art Museum
Rainy. Halloween. Tallie hung around the Brancu?i until 1:15, walking over to visit the Chagall, the Pollock, and the Picasso beforehand. She had her daughter, Andromeda Lee, slung around her; Andromeda, who was now three months old. Tallie had adopted her from a teenage mother in Louisville she would stay in contact with and took the baby home a day after she was born. Her family and girlfriends had thrown Tallie and Andromeda a bringing-home-baby party, showered them with clothes, chiming plush animals, and bamboo blankets, soft and small. Nico was there, too, filling her home with so much love, swelling her heart.
Nico was there more often than he wasn’t, the three of them making a nest in her bed, a new family in her home. And Andromeda looked every bit a celestial being—tufts of black curls, glowy gold-brown skin—a baby girl made of starlight. Nico was entirely smitten, calling her popje in a moony, bite-size voice he used only for her.
*
Tallie swayed to keep her daughter sleeping and satisfied by the Brancu?i in the gallery bustling with families and couples, docents in the doorways. She looked one last time, thinking of how much of a blessing it’d be to see Rye’s lilac puff floating through.
*
There was a gold canvas gift in Rye’s truck. He’d painted it for Tallie—the color of her energy. He saw her immediately, through the crowd. She’d cut her hair. Gold was how he felt when he looked at her, how he felt when he thought about telling her he was taking Lionel up on his offer of investing in a restaurant. She was magnificent under the gallery lights. Sfumato, a tender work of art. When she turned, he could see Tallie had a baby slung around her with lavender fabric. She swayed by the Brancu?i as if blown by the slightest breeze. He whispered her name.
*
Rye.
Rye was there with sunflowers, and he was real. His eyes weren’t haunted; he looked healthy and good. She wanted to run to him and tell him. Instead, she watched his mouth move from across the room. Was he saying her name?
*
When he got to her, he said hi and smiled. “You don’t know how good it feels to see you.”
“You don’t know how good it feels to see you. You stopped talking to me.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been responding, but…I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.”
“Happy birthday, Rye. And wow, you look really—”
“You do, too. I—”
“This is Andromeda, my surprise.”
*
Rye put one hand on the lavender half-moon curve of Andromeda’s back, his finger in her tiny fist.
The baby, sleeping, squeezed it tight.
(See. There is soft light. There are small mercies.)
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Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
I’m a firm believer in holding fast to good, lovely, beautiful things as much as I can in this world, even when times are hard. I want to comfort my characters when they are sad, depressed, or grieving. I love filling my books with coziness, warm drinks, and sweet conversations, even when I am making my characters’ worlds crumble around them. In life, I try my best to look for the light and to look for small mercies, even when things are dark and scary. It’s important for me to leave this book on that: a hopeful note. If you are looking for a sign of hope, a sign of light, a sign to hold fast, please let this be it. New mornings mean new mercies! And if things do get too dark for you, please speak up and reach out for help. You are not alone. You matter. You are so loved.
x,
Leesa
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
Acknowledgments
Big love and thanks to my agent, Kerry D’Agostino, for being sunshine and for every little bit of hard work, patience, care, and thoughtfulness you pour into this world. Big love and thanks to my editor, Elizabeth Kulhanek, for being so incredibly lovely, fantastic, and such a joy to work with. I couldn’t ask for more, really. To papers under pillows and kindles of kittens!
Thank you to everyone at Curtis Brown, Ltd.
Thank you to my beyond amazing publicist, Linda Duggins, for being the best. XO! Thank you, Alli Rosenthal and Alana Spendley, for being so wonderful to work with. And many thanks to Barbara Clark, Tareth Mitch, the art department, and the legal department at Hachette Book Group and Grand Central Publishing.
Special thanks to my dear friend and lieve schat, Stephanie Graf, for answering my questions about the Dutch language.
Special thanks to my BFF, Elisabeth Clem, for the X-Files inspiration always and forever (among other things we could talk about all night).
Special thanks and love to Wendy C. Ortiz.
I listened to Jake Gyllenhaal sing “Finishing the Hat” from Sunday in the Park with George about a million times while writing this novel, so I want to thank Jake Gyllenhaal and Stephen Sondheim for that. “Look, I made a hat!”
Oh, Sam Cooke, my heart. Thank you, Sam Cooke.
And thank you to Vincent van Gogh for his art and letters. I treasure them and him in a very special place in my secret heart where no one can touch them.