Soon, the only sound was of rain tapping against the windows. It was soft and melancholy. For a while I sat like that, my head in my hands, then I remembered the phone. I quickly grabbed it from where I’d stashed it.
The blue light was glaring. Only at forty-eight percent now.
I couldn’t write Grayson directly, but I could log in to my secret Insta. Maybe if I whispered him direct messages, and I yelled the world my thoughts…he would hear one of them.
I know it was a long shot.
He was Grayson Crowne.
He didn’t check his DMs, but it’s all I have.
Four
Dear Atlas,
I don’t know if you’ll ever see these letters, but I pray you do. I’ve never been someone who prayed before, who put their hopes in the hands of fickle gods, but I’ll pray to every god living and dead because I don’t want you to worry. I can’t breathe if you think I abandoned you.
Or worse.
I’m safe. We’re both safe.
It was never supposed to happen this way, Atlas. This static, dead silence between us like the rustle of leaves on an empty autumn day. You are my heartbeat and you’ve been ripped from me. When I put my palm to my chest, it’s blank. Two weeks is nothing in the blink of eternity, but it’s everything in the slow ache of heartbreak.
Are you bleeding?
My secrets and thorns hurt and I lie awake wondering about yours. I’m alone in this room that feels older than poetry itself. It smells like night rain, and the stars are hidden beneath the dark, somber clouds. I only have a single, waxy candle for blurry light.
And also, I guess, the light of this bright, blue phone which really feels out of place here, Atlas. Like I should have found some old parchment to write you with. I guess then we could really be like the poets we spoke of, sending illicit letters with fire-marked edges.
I keep thinking about the first thing I want to do when I see you again.
Kiss you. Hug you. Leap into your arms. Really, I just want to talk to you. You’re the only one I ever could talk to, the only one who ever listened.
And then my heart breaks because…I won’t be able to talk to you.
Because…Atlas, I lied.
Is this how I tell you? Like a coward?
I need a coward’s courage to tell you. You’re thousands of miles away, a continent is between us, and there’s no way for me to see the ache in your eyes.
It’s a selfish confession.
All of the weight gone, none of the consequences, because I don’t know if you’ll ever even see it. You are Grayson Crowne, after all. You have tens of thousands of people sliding into your DMs. Why would you notice me?
I’m on the hard floor, Atlas. The old planks creak every time I slightly move. I don’t want to get in bed. I don’t want this night to end, because if it ends, that means tomorrow will come.
One step closer to being reunited with you, but also…one day closer to him. To them.
Because I lied to you, Atlas.
I?
?m not his wife.
Not anymore.
I’m his mistress.