Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“But this crayon, and these greeting cards, letters ’nd stuff from your aunt…” she pointed to them all sprawled about, “and these photographs and letters are all pieces of a puzzle you’re trying to solve. But the biggest piece is missin’! The things we hold tight to ain’t ’cause we love things… inanimate objects. It’s because of how they make us feel. Nostalgia is the addiction to a feeling we experienced from long ago because of a THING. A song. A place. A smell. A taste. It’s what we treasure and we’ll remember those feelings forever.
“…I’m forgettin’ her.” His eyes stung with moisture. Never in his life did he feel so comfortable with someone. Never in his life did he feel so exposed and understood.
“Those feelings can’t be erased by bad memories or Alzheimer’s, Caspian. Feelings are like layers of paint on our soul. They are permanent ink. They can fade, but they’re never fully gone. You said the memories of your mama are getting fuzzy and that worries you ’cause that’s all you got. That’s not all you got, baby. You got the feelings.”
She ran her thumb along the side of his face and he exploded from the inside out.
“You got the way her smile made you feel. How her mouth curled and crimped, and her teeth looked all glossy and on full display. But that ain’t the point. It’s that it was your mama, and she loved you, and she made you FEEL important. Cared for. Created from the blood of her very heart. When she was gone, you no longer felt important, cared for and loved. You felt invisible. Forgotten. Silent. You spoke no evil…”
“…How do you know this? Jesus!” He extended his arm and squeezed the air, grasping nothing but holding so much. “How do you know me the way you do?!”
“’Cause I’ve held onto things, tryna maintain a feeling, too…”
Chapter Nineteen
“Here’s the bridge.” Azure pointed to the underside of an overpass as she and Caspian walked below it during their afternoon walk.
It was a gray day, the drizzly rain constant, but somehow that made it more beautiful. This man’s love was naked. He was raw with her, but delicate with his rawness. A look would flash across his face—more proof he was holding things within. As the weeks passed, he spilled more and more. Tales of him and his best friends, the trouble he’d gotten into, his achievements, his learning curves. His deep yet complicated relationship with his aunt. He’d expressed to her that his podcast was personal—his labor of love. Nevertheless, it had made him a sensation. The man now had true crime fans. A following of epic proportions. Yeah, his love needed no sauces or relishes, no bread or side dishes. Naked and raw. She could stomach this. It was fine all by itself.
They were dry beneath the overpass as the slow drizzle plip-plopped onto puddles, filling gaps in the asphalt.
They began taking walks together a couple days a week. Hand in hand, a time to decompress and talk. To love on one another in a new way.
“My Aunt Angel hated drivin’ over bridges.” He looked up at the cobblestoned ceiling, then around at the walls decorated in crude graffiti. “She said it made her nervous.”
“It was one of my favorite spots to just be and chill with my friends.” She pointed to an area she used to spray paint over. “My name was here. Now someone tagged it with a gang sign.” She swallowed a thick swell of irritation while dragging her finger along the obscenities written in sky-blue spray paint.
“Were you playin’ hooky when you came here?” Caspian asked.
“Nah, I would do it on days off, after school, things like that. Did you play hooky a lot?”
“All the time.” He laughed before backing her into the cold concrete wall. She could feel the coolness against her head, her skin, threatening to seep through the protection of her jacket and clothing and brush her bones.
“…Mmmm…” He groaned, dragging his chin and lips along the side of her neck. His lower lip caught her thin gold chain and he sucked it a little, then allowed it to fall lightly back against her skin. Wet and warm. His big hand rounded the other side of her throat and heat embraced her from the feathery touch of his kiss. When he released her, they locked eyes, neither saying anything for a long time. All she could hear was their breathing and the rain falling into the puddles.
“Azure, I’m crazy about you… and I’m also just crazy.” There was no laughter. No smile. No ‘gotcha.’
“Yeah?” Bending down, she picked up a wet orange leaf and turned it about between her thumb and forefinger.
“Yeah. I think the world of you. I look forward to talkin’ to you, seeing you, being with you. You understand me on levels that have never been reached by another woman. And you said ‘yes’ to me bein’ crazy. You said I was too good to be true, and I am.” He gripped her chin, staring intensely into her eyes. Her heart galloped. “I see a therapist every two months.” He pressed his lips against hers again, then released her.