Sweet Forty-Two(80)

She nodded and I took it back from her, rolling it into a telescoping tube and sliding it into the bottle. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out Rae’s card.

“What are you doing with that?” Georgia arched her eyebrow skeptically.

My voice shook, even though I was certain. “She wrote her love letter to me, and I wrote mine back. They belong together in here.” I rolled the card up as tightly as I could so it would snuggle inside the rolled up song. Finally, I put the cork on it, pressing as hard as I could, until my thumbnail turned white.

“Regan,” Georgia’s voice rose in panic as I stood, “what are you doing?”

I held out my hand, helping her up with a sweaty palm. “Walk with me. Please.”

Her short legs moved quickly to keep pace with me. “Don’t you think you should ... think about this?” She seemed to figure out my plan pretty quickly, though what else was one to do with a corked bottle and a whole ocean?

“I have. For eight months, three of which I spent trying to forget about her in Ireland. I don’t want to forget about Rae, Georgia, but I need to say goodbye.”

“You can’t throw that f*cking letter in the ocean. That’s insane!” Her hand trembled as she tugged, begging me to slow down.

We reached the end of the pier and I stood with my eyes closed, filling my lungs with salty fresh air.

“Seriously, Regan, you can’t throw her letter away.” Georgia’s voice was pleading.

I faced her to find her pale and nauseated looking.

“I’m not throwing it away. I’m just ... sending our love into the universe. Maybe someone will find this. Maybe not. If they do, I want them to know what our love was. If no one ever sees it, then we’ll know. Rae and me.”

I brought the bottle to my lips, kissing the cold glass once. Georgia held my hand tighter, resting her head on my shoulder; her breathing was even as she seemed to wait.

“I love you, too,” I whispered, my lips still against the bottle.

I reached my arm back, and, as hard as I could, I threw it into the ocean where it bobbed, rather undramatically for a few moments, before a series of large waves took it under and out of my view.

I stared for a minute at the spot I last saw the bottle, filled with the part of my soul that belonged to Rae, and the part of hers that had belonged to me.

“Are you okay?” Georgia’s voice came from nowhere and reconnected me to our clasped hands.

I peeled my eyes away from the ocean. From my past. Georgia looked unsure, nervous, maybe, as she locked eyes with me and waited for my answer.

With a smile I pulled her into a hug. “I think I’m ready for those cupcakes now.”

She didn’t try to berate me with the ins and outs of my psyche that created my bottle-tossing idea. She simply nodded and led us back to the land-end of the pier, where our cupcakes waited.

We sat silently on the edge of the pier, fumbling with the paper wrappers and finally biting into the gorgeous therapy.

The salty air around us made them all the more sweet.





Georgia

As I waited for my mother in the waiting room on Wednesday, I thought back to my morning on the pier with Regan a few days before.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I teased.

“Eating a cupcake? How do you do that wrong?”

I rolled my eyes. “God! Stop! Eat the cake part first, like this. Save the frosting for last. That’s the point of a cupcake, you know ... it’s a vehicle for the frosting.”

I’d laughed until my sides hurt as he took the entire top of the cupcake in his mouth at once.

“Mmmm. No. You’re wrong. It’s always better to have the sweetest part first.” He licked his lips, and my eyes followed every move.

“Why are you such an optimist?”

At my question, he just shrugged and said, “There’s no good reason to be anything but.”

He chose happiness the way people choose to put on clothes in the morning.

Thinking back to the way he played his violin for Rae on that pier, I knew I had to be fully honest with him about my mom, my life, just ... everything. I didn’t have to, I suppose, but I wanted to. My phone buzzed with an incoming text. I smiled at his name across the top.

Health inspector here. Everything’s good so far. Hope you’re doing okay.

Thank you so much! I texted back.

Everything is okay ... right?

I instantly felt bad about being so vague about the “appointment” I had that was keeping me from an important step in the opening of my bakery, which was only two short weeks away.

Everything’s great. We’ll talk when I get back, K?

Just as I sent the text, the nurse came out to let me know my mother was ready to be released. It was going to be her last appointment for a couple of weeks. She was feeling stronger and more in control of herself than she had since I was a little girl. The hours immediately following the appointments were still tough. Effects of the anesthesia and varying degrees of memory loss were difficult to navigate.

Once my mom and I were in the car and on the road, I turned the radio down.

“Mom?”

She slowly rolled her head in my direction, seeming to be more tired today than usual. “Yeah?” she asked with a yawn.

“Is it okay if I bring you back to my place for a little while? I need to meet with the health inspector, if he’s still there. You can rest in my bedroom, if you’d like.”