“If you want predictability, here’s what you can expect from me going forward: I can be me. You can be you. And I won’t ever tell you to stop because it’s why I’m in love with you.” I flinch and clench my eyes shut. Only for a short second. I’m still driving. I can’t believe I said that! But now that it came out of my mouth, I know I said it because I mean it.
“Don’t say that, Huff,” she says with melancholy.
“Why? Because it’s true? Because I’ve known since the second grade that there would never be another girl for me?” I groan with frustration. “Fuck, River. I’ve loved you since we sat together and you passed me half your graham cracker at snack time. Me and you. The Hudson River. It’s dirty. It’s big. It’s a landmark that’s hard to miss, and it describes exactly how I feel about you.”
Silence. Deafening silence.
Suddenly, she says, “Did you really just call me dirty?”
“I called us dirty.”
“And big,” she adds.
“And I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care if you want to stay just friends and I have to walk you down the aisle at your wedding as your man of honor because you’ve fallen for the wrong guy who isn’t me, or you decide you want to become a nun and take a vow of celibacy, or you tell me you’ve discovered you love women because your sorority is, in my opinion, way too fucking into each other. I don’t care. I’ll be by your side until you take your last breath, no matter what you choose.
“But make no mistake, I’m hoping that your last breath is used to tell me how much you’ve loved our life together. And our six kids. And ten dogs. I love dogs. Also, turtles. Shells are useful. But you already know my position on that.”
A long, static-filled silence is broken by soft sobs on the other end of the phone. Those turn to blubbers and hiccups.
I’m wondering if I’ve pushed for too much, too soon. Maybe she needs more time to warm up to the idea of us being a real possibility. I know I do, but after this last week, I can’t deny things changed for me. It all started when I realized I’d give my life for her. Now I see my feelings were there all along. I simply didn’t believe I could ever deserve her. She’s pretty fucking awesome.
“Fuck you!” she belts, jarring me in my driver’s seat. “Fuck you, Huff! You stupid sonofabitch!”
I force myself to keep my eyes on the road. “Ehhh…what?”
“Why now? Huh? Why are you saying all this now?”
“Because it needed saying. Before it’s too late.” God forbid she becomes a nun. Oh stop. You know what I mean.
“Dammit! Huff,” she barks, “no more perfect answers.”
“Or what?” I ask.
“Or-or—”
“How about telling me what you want.” Not a question. It’s a demand. I’m tired of walking through life on eggshells. I’m done with that. “I know what I want. Do you?”
“I want—I—I need to say things, too, but I never imagined doing it like this.”
“Like how?” Because I don’t see why it matters. I’ve made myself clear. I want her. Does she want me back? Speak, woman! Speak!
“There’s all this bad, bad stuff happening, and now there’s this stupid hurricane and—”
“Hurricane?” And she’s only just telling me this? “Stay put. I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Huff, you can’t go.” Mom’s nails dig into my arm like a python’s fangs. Total death grip. “No one’s even had time to evacuate. Their governor issued a shelter-in-place order thirty minutes ago!”
“Mom, I have to be with River.” I jerk my arm free.
“Their airport is shut down, Huff,” Dad states, like he’s won another argument today.
“I don’t need a plane,” I say—and instantly regret it. The expressions on my parents’ faces say they think I’m nuts.
Maybe I am. Fuck it. I most definitely am.
“You-you think you can fly?” Dad mutters. “You know that’s impossible.”
Surprise. I’ve already thought that a million times. I convinced myself that miracles don’t happen, that no one was listening to my pleas for a better life. I’ve looked over that cliff into the abyss, and you know what? Something bigger than me was staring back. So I can either live in denial, or I can accept that not everything in life makes sense. And, yes, that I have abilities I can’t explain.
I look at Mom and then Dad. “I don’t need explanations anymore. I don’t need to know why beautiful people like Joy die, or why idiots like me live. All I need to know is that I’m here for a reason. And this,” I sweep my arms over my body, “is real. This really happened to me. So I might be completely out of my fucking head—”
“Language, Huff!” Mom barks.