Sweet Forty-Two(59)

“You think I’m beautiful?” She sounded put off.

I nodded. “You are.”

“I’m a lot of things, Regan. Beauty is for the soft spirited girls, not the soft-bottomed ones.”

“Take a compliment, will you? It won’t hurt, trust me.”

“It might. Let’s go.” She stuck a toothpick in the center of the two cupcakes she’d placed on a plate and pulled out plastic wrap.

“What are you doing?”

She wrapped the cupcakes in the plastic wrap. “You put the toothpicks in so the plastic doesn’t ruin the frosting. It’s not as fun to lick frosting from plastic as you might think. Kind of kills the mood.”

“Where are you taking those?”

“With us.”

“Us?”

“Yes. To the pier by the playground. You’ve got a letter to open.”

My stomach dropped and writhed and dropped some more.

“Now?”

She sighed a playfully irritated sigh. “This is the moment we’re standing in, isn’t it? Follow me.”

Georgia picked up the cupcake plate and walked to the interior door.

“I thought you said the playground?”

“I have to get the letter from my car.”

My heart did jumping jacks. “Oh ... I’ll ... head down to the pier, if you don’t mind.”

She turned around and put her hand on mine. “Go,” she whispered.

I walked through the garage and across the street, standing on the rock wall for a moment, the way I’d seen Georgia do a few weeks ago. I stood with my chin lifted high, eyes closed, palms open.

“Please,” I whispered, “don’t let this kill me.”

I leaped down and walked down the beach and onto the pier. It was well worn, loved in its day, for sure, but that day had long passed. It seemed to only be suitable for foot traffic, now. Every muscle in my body shook with anticipation, dread, fear, and longing. That was the piece that had kept me from trashing the letter as soon as I received it. The longing. It was the last piece of Rae just for me. Once I read it, that would really be it.

“Hey.” Georgia spoke as soft as she could to be heard over the buffeting wind.

I turned and found her setting the cupcake plate on the railing. “Hey.”

She held the envelope in her left hand, and she reached out, holding it gently. I took it, the vibrato in my hand resonating through the starched and stiff square. I cleared my throat, never looking at Georgia, and turned to walk toward the end of the pier.

“Regan, wait!” she called after me when I was about twenty feet from her.

She caught up to me and before I could ask what she wanted she lifted on the tips of her toes and threw her arms around my neck, squeezing me in the tightest hug I’d had in a long time. My throat pinched shut as I was overcome with emotion. Human contact. And, she smelled like cupcakes. I hugged her back with as much strength as I could pull from behind the line of anxiety and breathed her in.

“I thought you said I had to open and read the letter before I got a hug.” I smiled into the softness of her hair.

“Sometimes,” she choked out, “you need to be convinced that it really will be okay.”

She dropped her arms and I took a step back, taking her hand. “Will you sit next to me?”

“I—” she started, but I cut her off.

“Please?” I cleared my throat to avoid falling apart before anything happened.

She nodded, threaded her fingers between mine, and followed me to the end of the pier.

“You’re not going to jump, are you?” She twisted her lips and cocked her eyebrow.

I appreciated her apparent need to cut through heaviness with humor. “We’ll see.”

She laughed, appreciating my identical need.

We sat with our feet dangling over the water. I looked at the envelope and before I could convince myself otherwise, I loosened my hand from Georgia’s and ran my index finger along the sealed enclosure.

“That part’s over.” Georgia leaned into my arm.

I nodded, unable to speak. I pulled the card from the only home it’d had for the last seven months and immediately started laughing and crying at the same time. The front of the card had a cartoon violin with a face on it, and arms coming out of the sides, one hand up on the neck of the instrument and the other holding a bow and laying it across the strings. It was adorable, and funny, and thoughtful, and everything I missed about Rae staring me right in the face.

“She’s too much.” I wiped away tears, still smiling, allowing myself to speak in the present tense. Just once more.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Georgia wipe some tears away from her pink cheeks. “I’m going to let you do this part by yourself. Is that okay? I feel like I’m intruding.”

“You’re not intruding, but it’s okay.” I knew she’d be only a few feet away. And, I had a letter to open.

Georgia squeezed my shoulder as she stood and as her footsteps grew softer, I opened the letter:

Regan,

Kind of looks like you, right? Kidding.

I was in the campus bookstore this morning trying to find a replacement book for that damn poetry class I’m taking, and I came across this. I just had to send it to you. I’ll see you again before you get it, but there’s something romantic about mail, isn’t there? No one sends mail anymore.