Burn Before Reading(90)

It takes me a few tries, but I finally find the right streets and take the right turns. The houses become familiar. Unlike the first time I came here on the back of Wolf’s bike, all the leaves are gone from the trees, all the flowers brown and wilted and dead. It’s amazing how the world just loves to smack me in the face with sad metaphors these days. I park on the street across from Seamus’s house.

I take the paper bag in my arms and walk up to his door. After a few rings of the doorbell, I wait. I almost turn and run back to the car twice – what am I even doing here? What if the brothers are here by some stroke of unluck? I don’t think I could face them. Would they tell Seamus what I’d done? Would he hate me?

My fears are dispelled when Seamus answers the door, his glasses making his smiling eyes look huge.

“Ah! Miss Cruz. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” I cross the threshold. He tries to steer me towards the kitchen for tea, but I stand my ground in the hallway. “I just came to give this back to you.”

I hand him the paper bag, and he unfurls the wrapping inside to reveal the sky-blue dress. He shakes his head.

“No, no no. I won’t take this.”

“There’s no way I can repay you,” I said. “And – And I messed up. Taking care of the brothers. You asked me to, and I messed up, so. I don’t deserve this.” I can’t meet Seamus’s eyes, my own riveted to the floor as I sigh. “I let…a lot of people down.”

Seamus is quiet, and then; “You’re awfully young to sound so old, my dear.”

“It tends to happen,” I say. “When you mess up everything real badly.”

“Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad –“

“It was,” I insist. “It was the worst. I’m the worst.”

He’s silent again, and then; “Well, if you’re the worst, then you absolutely must keep the dress.”

“Why?” I blink.

“So that every time you look at it, you’re reminded of your mistake, and are inspired to become better.”

“I –“

“But for me,” He interrupts smoothly. “That dress has a very different meaning. For me, that dress is a reminder of just how pretty and happy you looked in it. And when you came out here,” He motions to the living room. “And the brothers saw you, they too became a little happier. Why, I never think I’ve seen Wolf quite as dumbfounded as he was in that moment.”

My heart twists around. “Dumbfounded isn’t happy.”

“No. But at least it’s something other than sad.”

Something other than sad. I knew the value of that. Something other than sad was a good day, for Dad. Something other than sad is what I’d kill to be, at this moment. Seamus puts a gnarled hand on my shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, my dear, life is very long, and memories are very short.”

“But –“

“Whatever you did can be undone,” He says. “It may take months. It may take years. But as long as there is breath in your body, there is a chance to make up for what you’ve done. It will be slow, and difficult. But some would say it’s worth it. If you care about the people you hurt, you cannot run away. That would only cause you more pain. You must be kind to yourself.”

“I can’t. I ruined everything.”

“Perhaps. But if you are powerful enough to ruin everything, then perhaps you are powerful enough to make it right again.”

I’m struck quiet. Maybe, just maybe, he’s right. Maybe I can see everyone else’s problems so clearly, and not my own. Maybe all the textbooks in the world can’t make me turn my knowledge in on myself. The longer I wallow, the deeper I inflict guilt and shame on myself. The deeper the cuts go, the harder it’ll be to think positively about myself ever again. I’m not all bad. I know that. I love my Dad. I love Mom. I love – “Wolf,” Seamus says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Dread petrifies me, but I break out of it. I can’t lock up. I have to move forward, even if it’s just one aching step at a time. I whirl around to face Wolf, his leather motorcycle jacket and gloves as black as his windswept hair. His eagle brows knit when he sees me, jade eyes burning laser-hot holes in my forehead. He’s looking through me, not at me, like I don’t exist.

“I see you’re busy, Seamus,” Wolf says, his voice quietly ablaze. “I’ll come back later.”

He turns and makes for his motorcycle on the curb. I dash after him.

“Wolf, wait –“

He keeps walking, never once stopping. I try desperately to catch up with him.

“Wolf, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. About everything.”

He puts his helmet back on, lowering the visor without a beat and settling into the seat of his motorcycle. I might as well be the wind, a blade of grass, something inconsequential.

“I know you can’t forgive me,” I say quickly. “I know that. And I don’t want you to. But I’ll work hard, I promise. Even if it takes a year, four years, ten years – I’ll keep working hard to be a better person. And then maybe someday – ” I swallow, my throat closing up. Don’t cry. Not now. Be strong. “Maybe someday, you’ll talk to me again.”