Bloom

I'll Pray for Your Love

I have decided to stop trying to figure out H's story until I find him, and he can tell me himself. We'll see how long that lasts. The last entry made both Reign and I cry. It was so heartfelt, and I could feel H's longing through his words. He wanted L so bad, he wanted L to be only his. One and only. He wrote that on his diary, and it all makes more and more sense the further I read.

Reign is convinced I have this all wrong. She thinks I'm missing something, but it's not like she has any ideas on what the real story is. I still think I have most of it right, I have a feeling that I understand him and his writing and their story. But she's right. Something is missing.

It's too frustrating to try to figure it out when all I have to go off of are some old photos and diary entries. What if I take these things to him and he tells me to fuck off? He doesn't have to tell me his story, he could be angry that I went through his things. Maybe he's not who Grammy remembers, and he'll be upset that she sent us to him. There are just too many unknowns.

I tried to call Grammy, but she's been busy on her trip, she's coming home in a month so she's taking it all in. She says it's her last trip there, but she wouldn't tell us why. I didn't push because I didn't want her to feel bad about having to explain herself to me, but she promised to call back.

"Hi Grammy," I say into the phone. It's late and mum is asleep. Reign is out or I'd tell her to come talk with me, try to get something more out of her as we piece together the puzzle of H's life. She has a part in it, I just don't understand what it is.

"Hi, doll, how are you?" She chirps brightly.

"I'm alright, I guess," I start. "How's Italy?"

"It's lovely," she sighs contently. "Your grandfather and I used to travel to Italy all the time with some of our friends,"

"Is that why you still go so often?" I ask.

"Have you spoken to H yet?" She asks changing the subject faster than I can process.

"Um, no," I admit. "I will. Just haven't gotten around to it,"

"You shouldn't snoop in other people's things, Darcy Anne," she scolds. "I told you he would tell you what you want to know, and he will,"

"I don't know anything, Grammy, I was just looking, that's all, I wasn't trying to be nosy," I defend.

"He should get to be the one to tell his story," Grammy says firmly.

"I know, I know, just give me a few more days with the diary, I like to look through it and the photos, it's fun seeing you young," I tell her.

"You've had it for weeks, Darcy, you need to—"

"A few more days, two weeks tops, that's all I'm asking for," I plead even though there's nothing she can do to stop me.

She sighs heavily. "I'm not answering questions you may have about it," Grammy says. "I promised them that it was their story to tell,"

"Promised who?" I ask frantically, that's the first little clue I've gotten from her in so long.

"What did I just tell you?" She snaps.

"Sorry, Grammy," I mutter. "What are you doing today?" I ask in an attempt to change the subject.

"I'm going to the places that we used to go together. I want to relive the memories one last time," she says fondly.

I wonder if she means with my grandfather. I don't dare ask; I know it'll upset her. I know how much she misses him and her life with him. I know she misses being young like in these photos and the life she made with her friends. Still, I hope she means she's reliving the memories they made together before he died.