I wasn't sure he'd come, but when I see Nick leaning against the railing, I feel unbearably grateful. A snag of wind catches in his hair, ruffling it just so. He's peering out at the water, like Clair and I did so long ago, only a few feet from where we painted each others' faces. It feels like a lifetime ago.
A lifetime and forever ago.
I have a hard time walking that last few feet to meet him. He just looks so beautiful against the rail, bathed in sunlight and memory.
My eyes sting from it. From the way he's waiting for me. From how we've torn each other apart. From how I want to lean against him (and Sam and Lacy and Jay) and have them lean against me.
"I'm sorry," I say.
Nick glances up, studying me. "I know," he says, "I am too."
Somehow, there's nothing left to say.
The pain is still there, lying just beneath the surface, but for the first time in a long time, it seems bearable.
When I look over this, I know this is where I should leave it. Both figuratively and literally. I have no more words. I can't say I'm not broken. Honestly, I think we all are in some way. But I can talk to Nick without the... I dunno, the anguish? I had before.
Maybe that's enough for now.
And I saw you today. I knew it was you, so when you slipped away from your things for just a moment, I hid this beneath the book you were reading.
I hope you'll forgive me.
YOU ARE READING
Minnesota Goodbyes
Teen FictionM., a college sophomore, is haunted by the events of a year ago that ended another girl's life. In an attempt to clear her conscience, she writes her confession down in a battered notebook addressed to a stranger. This search for redemption is far m...
