We're All Mad Here

A couple of teenage girls deal with the fallout of a close friend's suicide.

The ancient speaker system crackled to life, “Before our regular announcements, we would like to have a moment of silence for sophomore Jessica Alder, who took her own life over the weekend…”

 

I cursed under my breath. I didn’t need to hear the rest of the announcement. Abruptly, I stood up from my desk and speed-walked out of the classroom, shouting “Diarrhea!” on my way out the door in a haphazard effort to explain my behavior.

 

I made a beeline for the nearest staircase. Ash’s advisory was on the same floor as mine, but I knew she wouldn’t be there. I huffed as I ascended the stuffy staircase in my high-heeled boots, but I didn’t stop for breath. Before long, I reached the roof, where Ash was already waiting in our usual spot. Except this time, there was no Jess with her. I swallowed my own feelings and made my way over to her.

 

She was hunched over, staring glassy-eyes at her folded hands through a veil of shoulder-length brown hair. I took a seat on the block of concrete beside her and placed my small, brown hand over her peachy ones. Our hands were about the only thing about us that was the same size. Her body dwarfed mine in every other way.

 

We sat that way in silence for several minutes before she finally spoke, her voice flat, “They called her Jessica.”

 

I nodded and brushed my thumb over hers to show that I was listening.

 

“They couldn’t just chop off the last two syllables and call her Jess like everyone who loved her did?”

 

“They’re asses,” I agreed, and we sat in silence for a few more minutes before I ventured cautiously, “Did she… say anything?”

 

Ash shook her head.

 

“Sorry,” I said, even though I knew there was nothing I could have done to change the circumstances.

 

“Did she say anything to you?” Ash asked, almost in a whisper.

 

“Why would she say something to me but not to you?” I asked, “She’s your girlfriend.”

 

“Was.”

 

“Was. Yeah…”

 

She shook her head, “No, I mean… was. She broke up with me.”

 

“What? When?”

 

“…Friday,” her face contorted as if in pain.

 

“You were holding hands on Friday.”

 

“After school Friday,” she took a shaky breath, “She said we couldn’t be together anymore. She said she was tired of hurting me.”

 

I frowned and squeezed her hands gently, unsure how else to respond.

 

“What if this is my fault?” Ash muttered.

 

I spun to face her, “Are you serious right now? What could you have possibly done to cause this? Nothing! The answer is nothing!”

 

“But what if I did? What if I could have stopped her if I’d just seen it coming? What if I said something that made her feel guilty? I could have apologized. I could have fixed it.”

 

“Listen,” I said sternly, “Everyone thinks things like that when someone… when s**t like this happens. It wasn’t your fault, okay?”

 

She nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced.

 

“Do you wanna just bunk school for today?” I suggested.

 

“Yeah,” her voice cracked as she said it and tears filled her eyes.

 

~*~

 

The next day during lunch, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun to face a girl whose outfit looked like something constructed by a colorblind clown. “Can I help you?” I asked, glowering at her over the neon blue rims of my glasses.

 

“Mololuwa Fatade, right?” she said with a naïve grin on her freckled face.

 

I raised an eyebrow, “You gotta work on your creepy stalker game if you’re gonna walk up to complete strangers and call them by name. You’re missing my other four names.”

 

“Oh, I just like trying to learn people’s name’s during attendance! We’re in the same advisory and chemistry class.”

 

“Well, that’s a s****y way to learn my name, since the class roster always leaves out all the cool names that didn’t come from my boring parents. It’s Molouwa Oluwafemi Ayotola Oyindamola Ife Fatade. Or, y’know… Mo.”

 

“Oh, that’s cool!” she said, “My full name’s April Elena Paige Noseworthy, but you can call me Lirpa. I saw you leave during the announcements, yesterday, and I wanted to make sure everything is okay now.”

 

“Yep. Everything’s fine, here. It’s not like anyone died or anything,” I snapped, turning back to my lunch. Seconds later I heard Ash’s tray clatter to the floor as she stormed off silently, leaving our table askew in the process.

 

“S**t,” I hissed to myself, then stood up to face Loopy or Lirpa or whatever the hell name she wanted us to call her. “See what you did!” I snapped, keeping my voice down only to avoid drawing attention to myself before I could come to Ash’s aid. I saw her eyes widen, but I left before she could respond. I wiped a splatter of ketchup off of the puffy sleeve of my dress as I speed-walked through the cafeteria, my mary janes clacking on the tile floor.

 

I caught up to Ash in the hallway. I grabbed her shoulder from behind, which was a mistake that earned me an elbow to the nose.

 

“Listen,” I said, “Ash, I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

 

“Please leave me alone,” she growled.

 

“I said I’m sorry! What more do you want?”

 

“I’m not mad at you. I just need you to go away,” she hissed through gritted teeth, then disappeared behind the nearest door, which happened to be the faculty men’s bathroom.

 

“Fine!” I threw up my hands in defeat, “That’s fine. Have fun in the men’s bathroom. I better see you in English class or I’m calling 9-1-1!”

 

I heard her retch into the toilet and figured it was time for me to get back to the cafeteria.

 

~*~

 

Ash showed up to English class, so I didn’t have to call 9-1-1, but seeing her walk into the room was not as reassuring as I had hoped.

 

“Coat and gloves indoors? Really, Ash? They heat this school like an oven,” I whispered as she took a seat beside me at the back of the room.

 

“I got a chill. Maybe I’m coming down with the flu,” she grumbled back, settling into her seat and adjusting her earbuds beneath her hood.

 

“Yeah, okay,” I said, not believing a word of it, “lucky for you, Ms. White doesn’t give a crap. Good pulling this off in geometry next period, though.”

 

Ash responded by turning the volume up on her iPod.

 

~*~

 

“I’m coming to your house,” I informed Ash as we left the school.

 

“Do your parents know?” she said, her voice void of emotion.

 

“Do they ever?” I retorted.

 

She shrugged.

 

“So,” I asked, “What’s the real deal with the coat and gloves?”

 

She shrugged again.

 

“I call bullshit. Our school is a 4-story-tall boiler room, and you barely remember to wear gloves even when it’s literally freezing outside. I have no idea why you put on a coat and gloves halfway through the day, but it’s not because you were cold.”

 

Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and whipped off one of her gloves, holding her hand inches from my face. The knuckles were bruised and bloody, just barely scabbed over, as if she’d been punching a brick wall. “That’s why,” she said calmly before replacing the glove.

 

“Yikes,” was all I could respond with.

 

The rest of our commute was very quiet.

 

~*~

 

Much to my annoyance, clown-girl made a point of sitting next to me the next morning in advisory. She was wearing a hat that looked like it was straight out of a Dr. Seuss book and a blouse made of so many different fabrics that it somehow managed to clash with itself.

 

“Sorry about yesterday!” she said, an unnecessarily chipper ring to her voice.

 

I tried to ignore her by taking a swig from my water bottle, which didn’t exactly contain water.

 

She wasn’t easily deterred, though. She handed over a piece of printer paper with a sketch of what appeared to be her giving me a hug. “I’m Sorry for Your Loss” was written at the top in calligraphy.

 

“Cute,” I said, “But here’s the thing. Just because my trio is suddenly missing a member doesn’t mean I’m taking auditions for replacements.” I returned the picture to her desk.

 

She frowned slightly, but made a quick recovery, “Oh… that wasn’t how I meant it to come across at all! I’m sorry! Well, if you ever want to hang out, just let me know. I see you reading manga before class all the time, so I thought maybe we could talk about that or something.”

 

“Yeah, well your friendship proposal could not possibly have worse timing,” I scoffed.

 

“…also, I like your hair bow?” she added, a hint of caution creeping into her voice.

 

I sighed in resignation, “Thanks. I got it at a cute little booth at ComicCon.”

 

She gave me a small, almost wary smile before the bell rang and the conversation ended.

 

~*~

 

The wake and funeral were that weekend. Several of our classmates showed up to the wake, but none of them had actually known Jess when she was alive. I had to restrain myself from snapping at a few of them when they came by and offered their condolences. My attempt at self-restraint was less successful when a couple of girls from our grade came up and offered to pray for us.

 

“Thanks,” I sneered, “but that won’t be necessary.”

 

They walked away quickly, looking scared.

 

I could tell Ash was out of sorts, because ordinarily that would have earned me an elbow in the side and a glare. Instead, she just glanced nervously after them with a frown on her face.

 

Unsurprisingly, our classmates were conspicuously absent from the actual funeral. The only sign of high school students present were Jess’ twin brother, Max, and a tell-tale fuzzy purple hat.

 

“What’s she doing here?” I hissed to Ash, who just shrugged in response. I wasn’t going to let it go so easily, though, “I’mma go find out.”

 

When I approached Lirpa, she stood up to meet me and began to babble on in a hushed voice, “Oh good, I’m glad someone else from school is here! I was so surprised when I came in and realized nobody our age came!”

 

I narrowed my eyes, “What I want to know is why you came to a complete stranger’s funeral wearing a fuzzy fedora.”

 

If she was hurt by my statement, she didn’t show it, “Well, I figured a lot of people would be feeling down and they could use some cheering up. I didn’t want to take the attention away from your friend, though, so I picked a hat that wasn’t too flashy.”

 

I looked her up and down contemplatively, then revised my strategy and said, “You should’ve picked a green hat. It was her favorite color. Come on, we’re sitting over here. Ash is gonna play a song for Jess at the end, so she could probably use some cheering up so she doesn’t chicken out.”

 

“Oh no, I guess it was a bad hat choice after all! Guess I’ll have to fix it with something green,” she said, producing a green marker from her tie-dyed purse and immediately setting to work drawing cat whiskers on her face with it. The green didn’t show up very well against the terra cotta brown of her skin, but I couldn’t help but appreciate the effort.

 

“Nice. Now come on, let’s get back to Ash before the ceremonial bullshit starts,” I said, motioning for Lirpa to follow me.

 

When we reached Ash, I quickly filled her in as Lirpa situated herself, “Hey Ash, this is Lirpa. She just drew green cat whiskers on her face because it’s Jess’ favorite color, and I figured we could use a little positive energy up in here, so she’s gonna sit with us now.”

 

“Can I borrow your marker?” was Ash’s only response.

 

“Of course you can!” Lirpa said, presenting the marker to her with a smile.

 

“Thanks,” Ash said simply as she began lovingly drawing a series of music notes around her left wrist, dotting eat note with a tiny heart instead of an oval.

 

“What’s what?” whispered Lirpa.

 

“The beginning of the song Ash and Jess wrote together,” I whispered back, “She’s gonna play it in a little while.”

 

“Ohhh,” replied Lirpa, an intrigued reverence in her voice.

 

~*~

 

The next few weeks went by in a blur.

 

At one point, Ash caught me drinking at school and poured my spiked Gatorade down the toilet. She said something about alcoholism and her parents’ divorce and made me promise never to do it again. It was a surprisingly dramatic reaction from someone who had spent most of the week sleeping in class with earbuds in.

 

In addition to her newfound habit of sleeping through class, Ash began wearing arm-warmers on a daily basis, even as the snow melted and gave way to a very wet spring. The closest I came to bringing it up was to whisper, “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” as she picked at the scabs beneath her arm warmer during English class. What else could I have said? She wouldn’t have listened any more than I did to her alcohol lecture.

 

Somewhere along the lines Lirpa started sitting with us at lunch. Most days we sat together in silence, eating our respective lunches and reading our respective books, but somehow her presence evolved from irritating to comfortable with hardly a word spoken.

 

Lirpa and I got into the habit of sitting together in advisory, too. We talked more, there. Our conversations were mostly limited to anime�"never anything serious�"but it was a nice reprieve from the hushed weight of being around Ash.

 

~*~

 

One day, maybe a month later, Ash said something unexpected over lunch, “Mo, you wanna come to church with me this Sunday?”

 

“Oh hell no!” I reacted on impulse, “I didn’t waste half my freshman year trying to get kicked out of Catholic school just to turn around the next year and go to church of my own free will! Besides, didn’t you say you were never going to church again after your dad left? What changed?”

 

Ash looked hurt, though I’m not sure how she expected me to respond. “I found a new church. It’s not like my dad’s church. This one is UCC. They’re an open and affirming congregation�"the pastor is a lesbian! Mom is taking me on Sunday. I just… figured I’d extend an invitation.”

 

“Well, I’d love to go!” Lirpa piped up, “The people at my family’s Friends congregation are super nice, but they’re all so… old.”

 

“Sure, if you’d like to. Give me your address and we’ll pick you up,” Ash shrugged, shooting a disappointed look in my direction.

 

I gave her an apologetic shrug, as if to say, “Sorry, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

 

~*~

 

The next Monday, Ash showed up to our smoking spot on the roof with Lirpa in tow.

 

“What’s she doing here?” I asked, scrambling to conceal the cigarette I’d just lit.

 

Ash narrowed her eyes, “I just thought we could use some company, and so could she.”

 

“Wow, look at the view! I’ve never been up here, before!” Lirpa exclaimed, looking around in wonder.

 

“It’s a grimy roof on top of an equally gross 100-year-old high school located in the armpit of Providence,” I said, then turned to Ash and added under my breath, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

 

“It’s fine. She’s harmless. She just came here from homeschool at the beginning of the year, and she still hasn’t made any friends. I thought maybe we should get to know each other better,” she whispered back.

 

“What’cha talking about?” Lirpa interrupted before I could argue, strolling over and taking a seat in Jess’ old spot. I felt an unexpected flare of anger but pushed it down.

 

Trying to relax, I retrieved my cigarette and relit it, offering it to Lirpa, “D’you smoke?”

 

“No thanks.”

 

“Alright,” I said and passed it to Ash.

 

~*~

 

Lirpa’s presence on the roof became an increasingly regular occurrence over the coming weeks, though she only joined us there during lunch or what she referred to as “throw-away” classes�"which basically translated to gym and health, which she had taken during homeschool but had to retake because the credits didn’t transfer.

 

One morning, though, she showed up on the roof during fourth period, when we all had chemistry together. I looked up from the poem Ash was showing me on her phone screen, “What brings you up here? I thought chemistry was on your Do Not Bunk Under Any Circumstances list.”

 

Lirpa frowned, “I’ve got some bad news, guys.”

 

I felt Ash’s body tense up beside me. I raised an eyebrow, “What kind of bad news?”

 

She hung her head and held out two pink slips of paper, which I plucked from her hand. One had my name on it and the other had Ash’s.

 

“Mrs. Agosti says she’s had enough of you two bunking chemistry. She sent me to give you both detention slips, since she knew I’d know where to find you,” she explained, “Sorry guys.”

 

“Lunch detention, today in room 316…” Ash read.

 

“Oh!” exclaimed Lirpa, “That’s Señor Navarro’s room! I have Spanish with him. I can walk with you to his room if you’ve never been there.”

 

“Sure,” I agreed.

 

Lirpa explained that she had to get back to class before she got in trouble too, so we bid her farewell and returned to what we were doing.

 

Half an hour later, we made our way to the stairs, where Lirpa was waiting for us. Her hat for the day was a Mad Hatter hat, which made me smile despite the prospect of spending lunch with a pissed-off teacher.

 

“Still can’t believe Mrs. Agosti sent you to give us lunch detention,” mused Ash, “I guess we deserved it, though. It’s been like three days since we stepped foot in chem.”

 

I snorted, “I’m surprised it took her this long. The teachers here are pushovers compared to the teachers at my old school. Can you imagine what it’d take to actually get kicked out of this place?”

 

“Alrighty, we have reached our destination,” Lirpa announced, stopping outside a door covered in handmade Spanish travel brochures, presumably created by one of Mr. Navarro’s Spanish classes, “Brace yourselves. He hates bunkers with a vengeance.”

 

“Duly noted,” I said as I reached for the door handle. I was not expecting what happened when I opened the door, though.

 

“Sorpresa!” shouted Mr. Navarro, a heavyset Dominican man in his 30s, as he tossed confetti out at us.

 

When Ash and I turned to Lirpa for an explanation, she threw her hands in the air and shouted, “April fool’s!”

 

“Have fun! I’ll be back in half an hour. Please clean up before you leave,” said Mr. Navarro before leaving down the hallway.

 

Ash and I just stood there, dumbstruck, until Lirpa whisked us inside. I plucked pieces of confetti out of my springy hair and the lacy trim of my blouse as I took in my surroundings. Several desks were pushed together and covered in a tablecloth as a sort of makeshift banquet table, which was loaded with pizza and snacks. Above the desks was a banner that read “Happy Un-Birthday!”

 

“Like it?” Lirpa said with a delighted grin.

 

“Holy s**t,” Ash murmured almost reverently.

 

“This is awesome!” I cheered, “I love Alice in Wonderland!”

 

“Omigosh, me too!” Lirpa gave me a high five.

 

“How did you…” Ash stammered.

 

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard,” Lirpa said casually, “I just asked Señor Navarro if I could borrow his room during lunch, and then I got permission from Mrs. Agosti to miss chemistry so I could set up the surprise during Señor Navarro’s prep period.”

 

“Color me impressed!” I said.

 

“I was trained by the best! My mom’s a master prankster,” Lirpa explained proudly.

 

“Well, she taught you well,” said Ash as she helped herself to a slice of pizza. Lirpa and I joined her in stuffing our faces. It was the lightest I’d felt in months.

 

Once we had cleaned up and bid Lirpa farewell, Ash and I headed to English class. Before we reached Ms. White’s room, Ash turned to me and asked, “Hey, Mo, do you wanna come to my house this weekend? I could use your help with something.”

 

“Sure,” I replied, “I have work at coffee hell until Noon on Saturday, but I can come over after that.”

 

“That’s perfect,” she said, reaching over to pluck a piece of confetti from my sleeve. The tenderness of the gesture sent a shiver down my spine.

 

~*~

 

When I arrived at Ash’s house on Saturday, she immediately ushered me up to her room and motioned for me to take a seat on her bed.

 

“So, what’s this mysterious project you needed my help with?” I asked.

 

She grabbed a folder from her desk and sat down beside me, “This.”

 

“What is it?”

 

She opened the folder to reveal a disorganized assortment of photos, art, and poetry. All of it was related to Jess. “I volunteered to make part of Jess’ memorial spread in the yearbook. Her parents are making the other half.”

 

“And you want me to help?” I guessed, taking in all the memories laid out in front of me.

 

Ash nodded.

 

I hesitated, my eyes darting from photo to photo. Finally, I reached over and plucked a photo from the folder. It was of the three of us at a concert last spring. Jess’ hair was dyed a vibrant green and mine was pulled into a series of loose, short twists adorned with powder blue bows. We were all smiling, our arms around each other, and Ash was planting a kiss on Jess’ cheek.

 

“Remember this?” I said, handing the photo to Ash.

 

“The Paramore concert!” she declared, a twinkle in her eyes, “Man, how long has it been since we went to a concert?”

 

“What about this?” I said, pulling out a photo of Jess right after what she described scornfully as the ‘Moustache Trimmer Bowl Cut.’ It was such a disaster that she gave up and shaved it into a faux hawk a few days later.

 

“And this poem!” Ash pulled the sheet of lined paper out and gazed at it lovingly, “Remember when we first got together? She took me out to that open mic night and read this for me. It was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me!”

 

“Hey, I don’t remember this one,” I said, pulling out the next poem in the stack. I gave it a quick read-through and burst into laughter, “Whoa, I don’t think this one will get past the yearbook censors!”

 

“You had to read the whole poem to figure that out? It’s literally titled ‘Between Your Sheets’!” Ash gave me a playful shove. She was blushing.

 

“Did you guys ever…”

 

“Nah,” Ash ducked her head sheepishly, her cheeks deepening from pink to maroon, “We talked about it a lot, though.”

 

“So I guess we need to narrow this down to half a page worth of stuff, huh?” I said, changing the subject. I was glad my skin was dark enough to hide my own blush.

 

“Yeah. I guess we already know what to start the ‘absolutely, positively not’ pile with,” said Ash, plucking the poem from my hands and setting it aside.

 

We spent the next several hours sorting through memories, deciding which memories to share and which to keep to ourselves. It was dark out by the time we’d narrowed the selection down to a poem, two photos, and a drawing.

 

“When does your last bus come?” Ash asked.

 

“I dunno, I’ve got maybe half an hour left,” I said. I wasn’t too concerned about the possibility of getting stranded at Ash’s house overnight. Regardless of whose house I slept at, I would get pestered to go to church in the morning. At least at Ash’s house the pestering didn’t involve being called a disrespectful young woman and other similarly uncreative insults. Couldn’t I have gotten one of the cool Nigerian dads who fights for civil rights or tells funny stories from when he was my age? Apparently not, because all mine has ever talked about is God and respect.

 

“I guess we should pack this up and finish it later in the week, then,” Ash said, carefully stashing everything back in the folder, “Thanks for helping me with this today, Mo. It made it a lot easier.”

 

“Yeah, no problem,” I said, “Thanks for including me.”

 

Without another word, Ash engulfed me in her soft, thick arms and buried her face in my neck. She stayed that way for a while before loosening her grip and placing a feathery kiss just below my ear. I shivered, clutching her t-shirt for support as a cloud of fog rolled over my brain, but a split second later Ash pulled away abruptly, “I’m sorry! Was that weird? I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“No, it’s not weird,” I mumbled fuzzily.

 

“You sure?”

 

I nodded, and felt her muscles relax as she leaned down to kiss me again, starting with my jaw and working her way around to my lips. I responded by digging my nails into her back and pressing into her kiss.

 

When we pulled away for air, though, the fog over my brain began to dissipate. We sat there awkwardly for a moment before I spoke up shakily, “Okay, maybe that was kind of weird.”

 

“Yeah, definitely weird,” she agreed.

 

“Can we try this again in a year?” I asked.

 

“Yes please,” she flashed me a smile, but I could hear her teeth chattering.

 

We quietly avoided eye contact for a few minutes. Finally, I awkwardly announced, “Well, I guess I should go catch that bus, then.”

 

Ash nodded, “Yeah. See you Monday.”

 

“See you Monday.”

 

~*~

 

Monday was much less awkward than I was afraid it would be. The day was mostly business as usual until the final bell rang and we went to Ash’s house to finish the yearbook spread.

 

I was busy pulling up the digital files of the photos we had selected when Ash asked quietly, “Do you want to talk about what happened on Saturday?”

 

“I guess maybe we should,” I said without pausing my search for photos.

 

“When you get to a stopping point, do you think you could come sit with me?”

 

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound simultaneously casual and gentle. I saved a couple files to the folder and then joined Ash on her bed.

 

“Thanks,” she whispered.

 

“You feel guilty, don’t you,” I guessed.

 

She nodded.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I assured her.

 

“Did we make a mistake?” she asked.

 

“Nah.”

 

“Where do we go from here?”

 

“We wait.”

 

Ash closed her eyes and rested her forehead against mine, cupping a hand behind my neck, “Part of me wants to kiss you so bad, right now.”

 

“Same.”

 

“This is such a strange way to feel.”

 

“You’re telling me!”

 

Slowly, she released her hold and sat up straight. I shivered as her hand brushed against my hair on its way down. I felt oddly vulnerable, which in any other circumstances would have bothered me.

 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, at least,” she said.

 

I smiled, “Let’s finish this s**t up. Jess deserves it.”

 

~*~

 

It was almost a year later. Our breath came out as white puffs in the cold February air as we trekked through the snow. I could feel Ash’s gloveless hand trembling in mine as I brushed my thumb over the raised skin around her wrist, where her sheet music tattoo hadn’t quite healed yet.

 

“Thanks again for letting me come along,” said Lirpa, “Are you sure you’re okay with having me here?”

 

“We wouldn’t have invited you along if we didn’t want you,” I said.

 

“Even though I didn’t know her?” Lirpa asked.

 

“You know us, though,” said Ash, “we’re glad you’re here.”

 

“Besides, we’ll need you to walk our sorry, emotional asses back to the bus stop,” I added.

 

“I can totally do that!” Lirpa replied, her infectious smile returning.

 

We continued on until we reached our destination, a rectangular gravestone with music notes engraved on it.

 

“Well, here we are,” I said, giving Ash’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

 

We all stood around in reverent silence for quite some time. I felt an odd tightness in the pit of my stomach, like I desperately needed to do something but I wasn’t sure what. After a while, it elevated to the point where I almost felt nauseous.

 

Finally, Ash broke the silence. Slowly and silently, she pulled her guitar off her back and sat down cross-legged in the snow, her instrument I her lap. She took a moment to tune it, then said softly, “Hey Jess, I wrote you a song. I hope you like it.”

 

For the first time in over a year, I felt tears well up in my eyes as the tightness in my gut dissolved.