Paris Wills is a dreamer. His father always said he got it from his mom, an artist who was unlike any other. Her virtue was painting, and Paris' is poetry. No matter where he is, Paris finds inspiration for his poems.
In the summer after his sophom...
I wake up and look over at my phone, which blinks 9:05 AM. It takes a moment for me to realize that Gray is no longer in my arms. Frantically, I rush out of bed and down the stairs, horrified that something's happened. I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and my throat is dry with fear, wondering if Gray has hurt himself. Then, I see him in the kitchen, dressed in a tank top and shorts, two Starbucks drinks in his hands. Gray must've grabbed the drinks after stopping by his home to convince his parents that he spent the night there.
"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Gray exclaims cheerfully, setting the drinks down on the kitchen counter before putting his hands on my naked waist and pulling me in for a kiss. The taste of whipped cream and caramel hit my lips and I'm shocked to see Gray in such an optimistic and preppy mood, especially after what happened last night. He pulls away a moment later, grabbing a strawberry green tea infused lemonade that he knows I love. My Dad always made me strawberry lemonade when I was younger, and it reminds me of the time when we were a family and ate meals together. I can't believe Gray remembered I shared that memory with him.
Nevertheless, I'm still troubled by how joyful Gray is compared to earlier this morning when he was weeping in my arms. I sit down at the countertop and sip on my drink, staring Gray up and down to make sure he's alright.
"You're getting a little belly on you, Paris," Gray says with a booming chuckle, tickling my pudgy abdomen. I look down to see I've gained a few pounds that jut just a few inches out from my once frail figure. I guess I wasn't eating all that much before Gray came into my life.
"I'm proud of you, baby. You look healthy," he explains, nipping at his green straw and taking a large gulp of his venti Frappuccino.
My heart melts at his exceptionally sweet words, turning my cheeks red like sugar-coated candies, but I'm not convinced everything is as cheerful as it appears.
"Are you alright, Gray? After last night, I wasn't expecting you to be so-"
"Happy?" Gray interrupts with his signature smirk, setting the coffee down to stare right into my wide black eyes.
"I've decided to get rid of Tessa's collar. I think it's time I let her go. Not forget about her, but move on. You're right - there's nothing I could've done to save her. She was old, and I know she's at peace now."
I nod, taking another sip of my drink before coming up with a brilliant idea:
"I know the perfect place for us to go."
***
I take a quick shower and come out of the bathroom to find jeans and a hoodie folded up nicely waiting for me. Gray must've gone to grab them from my house. I smile from how kind and considerate he is before slipping into them and hopping downstairs, ratting up my wet black curls. Gray is waiting with his almost empty coffee, licking the foamy whipped cream off the lid, which makes my heart jump with a little too much excitement. When he realizes I'm watching him, Gray fumbles with the lid and it falls to the ground. He picks it up and runs to the sink, tossing the cup in there, hoping to avoid making eye contact with me. However, I manage to catch a glimpse of his fiery red face in the shining reflection of the kitchen window.
"So, where are you taking me, Paris?"
Gray turns around and his face is a little less flustered. He extends his hand for me to take, and I snatch it, trailing along behind him as he races to the truck, practically leaving me in the dust of his tracks. When we get inside, I notice patterned auburn hair covering the bench seat, surely Tessa's, and I know it must hurt Gray to see the car covered in her fur. Maybe one of these days we'll vacuum the truck, but all in time. Gray needs to decide when to make the next step, and he's already making immense progress by letting go of Tessa's collar, an item so near and dear to his heart, an item that always reminds him of her.
I direct him to this little trail on the mountainside that my Mom and I would hike sometimes. She periodically enjoyed searching the trail for supplies for charms and trinkets she made in her free time. I would always tag along, carrying a little wicker basket to store all the stuff she collected. There's this little stream towards the end of the trail, the perfect place to send off Tessa's collar.
As soon as we park, I slowly lead Gray down the steep hilly trail that bends down into a trickling gray water stream. Little fish flutter past, sending ripples through the surface. Brown wrinkled leaves float in all sorts of aerobatic poses, curling in strange shapes and angles. Gray is holding the maroon collar in his hands, playing with the silver dog bone shaped tag that has TESSA etched into it. I put my arm around Gray's shoulder, soothing him by rubbing his back slowly. He knows it's alright to cry in front of me, that I'm not going to judge him. No matter what happens, he'll still be the Gray I know and love. Nothing can change that. I want to be as strong for him as he was for me.
Taking a deep breath, Gray kneels down in the muddy brown dirt and gently sets the collar in the stream. It bubbles in the dark water, slipping under the current as it drifts away with the fish and leaves and all the other things the forest lets fall into the stream's careful little clutches. Gray stands up from the ground, wiping the slick dirt off his jeans with a long-winded sigh, glossy tears peeking out of his luminescent green eyes. I let his large, broad frame sink into me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders as he sobs quietly into the crook of my neck. I don't care that his tears are getting on my neck. I don't care that Gray's crying on the last Thursday before the school year. All I care about is making sure he feels safe in my arms, the way he's made me feel safe in his arms since the moment he appeared on my doorstep with pink carnations in his hand and a determined smirk plastered on his gorgeous face.
***
We've been sitting in his truck for the past ten minutes. Gray is drying the tears from his eyes and staring down at the trail below the windshield, the two of us wondering where Tessa's collar has gone, and where it might end up. Gray's hand is holding onto mine tightly, too afraid to let go. I'm staring over at him, tracing the lines of his jaw with my eyes, seeing how tense they are, quivering in a hopeless attempt to hold back more tears.
Gray sits there for a minute, thinking over what he's about to say. Then, he turns to me, looks me straight in the eyes, and replies, "My parents always told me Tessa was our Guardian Angel. Neither of them is religious, but I still liked the thought of a protector watching over us. In these past few days, I realized they were right. It wasn't a tall tale my parents told me, it was the truth. Tessa protected us. When I grew up, when we moved, when I met you. She guided me and my parents through so much. I may not know exactly what this whole Universe is about, but I know Tessa was watching over me through every single moment of my entire life. And she'll keep watching over me, over us, for years to come."
Maybe we don't know all the answers. Maybe we never will. Still, we can find comfort in the faith we have for the knowledge we don't. If we all had a little more faith in our lives, we might notice all the Guardian Angels guiding us along the path we're destined to take.
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