“There’s no timeline on chasing happiness.”
Sutton scoffs. “Did you read that on a fortune cookie?”
I rest my elbows on my knees, staring out at the water. “Grams died, and we’ll be graduating soon, and…it wasn’t impulsive. More overdue. I realized she wasn’t the one I’d spend forever with a long time ago. It was stupid—selfish, really—of me not to tell her that sooner. I was trying to protect her, to do the right thing.” I rub my jaw. “I don’t even know anymore.”
Sutton is silent. I can’t decide how I want her to reply. But I know disappointment—or disinterest—will break something more fragile than my heart.
She’s hope.
Ever since I met her, she’s been hope. Hope that the twisted circumstances that led me here weren’t just the result of a lot of messy decisions I had no control over, just like her. That things never feeling right with Ellie doesn’t mean I’m incapable of experiencing all-consuming love, just because my parents had the polar opposite of a fairy-tale ending.
“When?” Sutton finally speaks. “When did you realize?”
I look over at her, watching her play with a stray thread dangling off the hem of her shirt and chew her bottom lip.
I debate how honest to be. And then I just go for it.
I can’t count the number of times Grams told me, “It’s never too late to leap.”
Telling Sutton the truth feels like an acknowledgment of Grams’s impact on my life, how she was more of a parent than either of my biological ones.
I’ve also never been sure I could let Sutton leave Brookfield without telling her this truth. Without admitting I fell. And that’s exactly what it was—falling. You can’t control a fall. Or prevent it. Not once you’re already in motion.
“Probably when I saw you glaring at the Cheerios.”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. I take it as an encouraging sign.
“I’d never felt that way before, just looking at someone. Still do, every fucking time.”
It’s hard to admit.
A relief to say.
I scoff.
Smile wryly.
Sutton hands me the notebook with an exhale that suggests my honesty is an inconvenience. “You can read the first page.”
I flip the yellow notebook open, running my fingers across the harsh grooves indented in the paper from her pen strokes.
Some words are crossed out. Others are underlined.
Music notes line the scribbled margins.
I smile every time your car pulls up
Wearing that stupid hat you love so much
Secret smiles and the songs we both like
Each drive, I wish you’d never brake
You make me feel special, the world spins slow
Life likes to stand in our way, you know
So much to feel, yet nothing I should