Big ones.
For my money, my company… and my future.
Where I'll be, what I'll do, when I'd do what.
The only thing I never allow myself the luxury to ponder is who I'll be with when I do it. But it doesn’t matter. It’s always a pair of Baxter Blues that I imagine.
"Miss Pham, you have a small package," the hotel front desk clerk tells me one day, on my way back from the short walk my doctor suggested I take every day. With my stitches out, and my wound steadily healing it's now a matter of getting my energy back.
I take the package with a mixture of brimming excitement and dull fear mixed in my chest.
Although I know my attacker is safely behind bars, I still haven't gotten used to the idea that he won't be coming out from behind a dark corner with a knife to my throat asking for more money.
But I also don't know anyone who doesn't like a mystery package.
Perched on my bed, I stare at it for a few minutes before carefully untying the bow, and watching the four sides of the box fall open.
Inside, is a single brass skeleton key tied with a ribbon. And a small handwritten note.
I don't need to get up close to know that it's in Kingsley's handwriting, it was always one of the things that I loved about him. Beautiful loops, elegant letters. I would sometimes sit next to him in bed while he filed out contracts and traced the letters with my fingers, our legs intertwined.
Picking up the card, with my heart tumbling deliriously in my ribcage, I take a deep breath before his voice plays in my head as my eyes read the words.
Luna,
This is yours.
I guess she always was and I was just playing custodian for a while, but I've now put the paperwork in your name. Fittingsince I named her for you even before I knew you. Please take care of Clair the same way I know she'll take care of you.
I hope you'll occasionally hear me in the summer breeze and think of my eyes when you see the first crystal blue waters of spring, melting from the mountain glaciers.
I know I'll always think of the way you looked sitting on the pier at sunset, the wind in your hair, face upturned to the colors of the sky. Happy. The only way I ever want to think of you.
And I hope you'll always think of me this way -yours.
K.
A teardrop falls as I read the last letter.
And know that even if I don't know where my life is going, and with whom, I know where I'll be.
Forty-Seven
Luna
My walks get longerby the day.
Some days, I start at the crack of dawn, right when the fire has died down and the crisp air nibbles at my cheeks, whistling in from outside. I refuse to close the windows. I didn't come all this way to shut nature out.
Some mornings, my cheeks are damp when I rub my eyes awake, the morning dew carrying moisture in the air fresh from the lake to condense on my eyelashes overnight.
And I wake smiling.
Reaching for him.
Sometimes the smile dies in an instant.
But most days I turn onto my side, and pretend he's right there under the blankets, listening to me talk about the book I've been reading, or what I think I'll buy at the market today.
