Andshe was crying again. I reached into my pocket to grab one of the tissues I’dstarted to keep stocked over the last few days.
“Iknow, KJ. I know,” I soothed, reaching over to blot at her tears.
“Yeah,well … I don’t know if I do anymore,” she whispered, grabbing my arm. “I keepsayingit, I keepthinkingit, but I don’t know if Ibelieveit anymore.Goddammit, Devin. I’ve spent my entire life, telling myself that my dad was agoodperson, and now that he’s gone, I can’t believe it. I don’t … I don’t knowhow I can, when …”
“Don’tthink like that, Kylie,” I said, stopping her. “That type of shit—”
“Weweren’t enough, Devin!” she shouted over me, and I watched the remaining bricksof her exterior crumble into dust. “How good could he have been when we weren’tenough to keep him alive? Fuck, wetried. We tried so fuckinghard.We dideverything, we got him into rehab, we tried to keep him clean,andnoneof itwas good enough. None of it did a fucking thing.We were only prolonging the inevitable, and what the fuck was the point ofthat? We should’ve just let him fucking kill him—”
Iquickly rolled against the ground and grabbed her wrists. I held hertight, andshook her. “Stop.” I didn’t shout, but the wordbit at her tongue, shushing her, and her breath hitched. “Don’t you fuckingdaretalk like that.”
Herlips were pinched between her teeth, more tears fell silently to the ground.They watered the grass and nourished the daisies. She swallowed a sob, thenreleased her lips, letting them fall open as she gasped.
Iloosened my grip, but I didn’t let go. “Tell me about the daisies.”
“What?”
“You’venever told me about the daisies you always had in your room. I want to knowabout them now.”
Sheswallowed. She licked her lips and diverted her eyes to one of the swayingflowers, inches from her face. “My dad used to send them to me.”
“Why?What was the significance?”
Shebit her lip, fighting against its uncontrollable quivers. “It was just that … Ialways loved them. On our walks, he’d pluck them for me on our way back fromthe beach. I’d carry them home and put them in a cup of water. It got to thepoint that whenever it was my birthday, or Valentine’s Day, or … the first dayof school, or even if I just had a bad day, I’d come home and there would be abouquet of daisies waiting for me.”
Ihovered over her, watching the shifting of her eyes and face, seeing the oldmemories making her smile and making her eyes twinkle beyond the tears. Then,the realization that she was never going to find a bouquet of daisies waitingfor her again making her lips tremble. Making her eyes storm with despair.
“Theonly time I didn’t get my daisies was when he was in rehab or using,” sheadmitted, and in a whisper, she added, “The daisies made me feel like he wasokay. I just felt like … like as long as he thought to send them, he could oneday be okay.”
Oh,fuck.I released her wrists and sat up. I pressed the thumb and forefinger of onehand to my eyes, and I breathed away a rush of emotion. I composed myself andcleared my throat. I turned back to her, allowing my hand to reach out to herhair. To stroke through the flyaway purple threads that had fallen away fromher bun.
“Kylie,look around us,” I said, keeping the control in my voice despite the torrentialdownpour in my heart.
Shetook a glance around her, eyeing all the daisies that swayed in the gentlebreeze. One dipped on the wind, touching her forehead, and I caught the gentletwitching at the corner of her mouth.
“Thisis why I believe in Heaven, Kylie,” I said, and she looked back to me, staringwith bewildered eyes that had already begun to regain their sparkle. “I mean,come on, do you really think it’s just coincidence that we would stumble uponthis field of daisies today, of all days?”
Shereleased a water-logged sigh, sniffling as the tears commenced their race tothe ground, but her lips found her smile.
Itook her hand in mine. “Your dad wassick, Kylie, just like you said.That’s all. That had absolutely nothing to do with you or your mom. Hedoeslove you, youareenough, and heisokay.”
Shewrenched her hand from my grasp and reached her arms out to me. I pulled heroff the ground, pressed her body against mine, and with her chin nestled intothe crook of my neck, she whispered, “Thank you, Devin.God, I don’tknow what I would do without you. I love you so much.”
Iexhaled, silently begging the twinge in my chest to just knock it off as Isaid, “I love you too, KJ.”
Imeant it—I did love her, but not in the way that she loved me. With thosewords, spoken in her voice, circling my brain, I had to remind myself that itwas unrequited. That it wasn’tmutualand I was alonein that ship, and it was sinking.
Therewas a song in this moment, and I decided I would write it. I would pour myheartache into that notebook I kept in my guitar case, specifically for momentsjust like this, and I would write the best damn song I had ever written.
Butbefore I could get to mytruck, andwrite the songthat would possibly change my life, I held Kylie. I felt her smile against mycheek, felt her fingers dig into my back. I could feel her heart slammingagainst my chest, pulsing with her love for our bond and those flowers, and Idecided then and there that she would never go another week without a bouquetof daisies on her table.
CHAPTER FOUR
2008
Kylie
There were many thingsI had come to acceptin my life.
