Let Go

Chapter 11

Chapter 11~

The breeze is gentle, and kind.

Like you were.

It's gone in an instant,

Almost like you were.

But I enjoyed it still.

Also like you.

I may not be able to see the wind, but I know it's here.

I may not be able to see you, but I know you're here.

And when the wind leaves, I know I'll feel it again.

And when you left, I know I'll see you again.

Someday.

Someday.

From my rooftop I glance over at the field of wheat, just on the next street. The golden stalks flow in the breeze. Big white clouds fill the sky. It's warm. In the distance I see a few cars on the highway. My street is empty, and quiet, as usual. I take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. I keep my eyes closed as emotions filter in my head. Today marks four months without Lana. I lift my hand up and wipe a stray tear from my cheek.

Soft music plays from my phone next to me. I sign my name under my poem and then set my pen to the side. I slide the back of hand across my cheek, wiping the salty tears from them.

"Mind if I join you?" A voice below me asks. I look down and see my favorite pair of blue eyes.

"The key is under the mat." I tell Luke, so he can get in. He locks his car and walks onto the porch, then into the house. I wipe my eyes quickly, hoping they don't show I was crying. Soon Luke joins me on the roof, and I cover up my poem, hoping he won't see it. He sits close to me, and leans back on his hands. It's quiet for awhile.

"I heard about last night." He says quietly, his eyes looking out at the field.

"Oh." I reply quietly, "Are you mad?" A small chuckle shakes through him.

"Why would I be mad? I'm just glad you're safe." A faint smile sticks to his lips. His eyes look at mine, then look down at my lips, then back to my eyes.

"I was just scared what you were gonna say if I told you." My eyes scan his face.

"If?" He prompts.

"If." I shrug, looking back out over the field.

"You mean you might not have told me?" He sounds slightly hurt, and I know I said the wrong thing.

"No- I mean, I just, I was just scared you would get mad." I say quietly. There's a short pause.

"You can tell me anything you know. You don't have to be scared." He says gently.

"Anything?"

"Anything." He confirms.

It's time to tell him, or anyone at this point. Maybe I'm just crazy. Maybe my emotions are getting in the way of my thoughts. Maybe I just can't think straight. Or maybe I just need to get this off my chest. To somebody. Anybody.

There's silence.

"Abby?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot." I say, watching the wheat move in waves.

"Why was there a razor laying on your dresser?" He sounds worried.