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I shake my head. “Where’s the fun in that?”
He laughs at my pathetic attempt at a joke. “Okay,” he agrees, “the floor is yours when you want.”
“Thank you.” I stand there a second longer before taking my seat. I feel nervous but excited about my idea. I have Ben to thank for it, though. It was his words in the last note that gave me the idea. I just hope I can execute it right.
I wait nervously for everyone to arrive and take their seats. Ryder speaks for a few minutes, but I don’t really hear what he says because the blood’s rushing so loud in my ears. When he finishes speaking, he looks across at me and tilts his head, giving me a significant look.
I take a deep breath and stand. I clasp my hands together, my thumbs rotating around each other with nerves.
“Hi, guys,” I say awkwardly. “I … I know Group isn’t really talking about our losses, but in order to explain what I want you to do I need to tell you about Ben.” I take a deep breath and look to the lofted ceiling, giving myself a moment to compose myself. “I’d known Ben while we were in school, but we never really knew each other. Not until college, anyway. From the moment we started hanging out I knew he was different, that what we had was special. We soon began dating and years later became engaged. I put off the wedding because Ben was studying to be a doctor and completing his residency, working crazy hours, and I was starting an event planning business. We finally set a date for this past February, but Ben died in January. A drunk driver t-boned his car.” I clear my throat, trying to get control of my emotions. “He hung on long enough to make it to the hospital and for the doctors to attempt surgery, but he died on the table.” My eyes meet Ryder’s, and he watches me with an encouraging smile. He doesn’t judge me, and for that I’m grateful. “He was such a good person and for months I’ve been so angry at myself, the world, at everything because he died. I’m still angry,” I admit, “but not as much as I was, so I guess that’s progress. Anyway, I’m getting side-tracked. Ben always left me these notes on paper cranes he made. He was making a thousand before our wedding. In Japanese custom, a thousand paper cranes being made by one person before a wedding gives that person one wish to be carried to the heavens—usually the wish for a happy and prosperous marriage.” I press my lips together. “I guess it’s ironic that he’s in heaven now.” I sniffle and pick up the sheets of paper in all different colors. “In one of the notes Ben left for me, he told me that on the days where I feel like I can’t keep my head up to do something nice for someone else. In his memory, I want to start something and I want you guys to help. I’m calling it The Paper Crane project. Like Ben did, I want us all to write notes on them. Positive things. And then make the paper cranes. If you don’t know how to make them, that’s fine. It’s easy and I’ll teach you. This means a lot to me, and I hope you guys will help.” I take a deep breath and sit down, my cheeks suddenly heating with embarrassment as everyone stares at me.
Ryder brings his hands together and begins to clap, his lips quirking into a closed mouth smile.
Everyone else begins to clap too and my face breaks out into a grin. Tears fill my eyes, but for once they’re tears of happiness.
“That’s an excellent idea, Blaire,” Ryder says, standing and walking toward me. He bends down in front of me and reaches for a piece of paper, choosing a green piece. “Green’s my favorite color.” He winks and stands back up, holding out his hand. “Marker me.”
I laugh and hand him one. The others get up and come to me too, selecting a piece of paper and grabbing a Sharpie. My heart feels full and happy looking at them write their notes. I feel like I’m honoring Ben and his memory in some small way, and it makes me feel good. He might be gone, but he’ll live on in the paper cranes, and hopefully I can spread around the kindness he extended to everyone he met.
I begin writing my own notes. Most are simple, like: You’re beautiful or You are appreciated, but something I’ve learned is that sometimes only a few words can make someone’s whole day better.
One other person in Group, a woman named Ivy, knows how to make paper cranes, so the two of us take the time to go around and help everyone learn how to do it.
When I get to Ryder, he smiles up at me from where he sits on the floor with his legs spread out and sheets of paper scattered between them. “This was a great idea,” he tells me. “Seriously. I think we should do this every class from now on.” He laughs lightly.
I warm at his words. “Really?” He nods. “Thanks,” I say and sit down beside him on the gym floor. “I’m happy I can get everyone involved in something that means so much to me. I thought it might help us all to heal if we focus on the positive and putting a smile on someone else’s face.” I shrug and cross my legs.
“Mhm.” His tongue sticks out between his lips as he writes. He lifts his eyes to mine as he recaps the marker. “Okay, show me what I need to do. Origami was never my forte.” He chuckles.
“It’s easy,” I tell him, reaching for one of his pieces of paper.
“Not that one.” He quickly snatches it back.
My brows furrow. “Why?”
“Because it’s special.”
I shake my head. “Okay then.” I pick another one, and this time, he doesn’t object. I show him what he needs to do and he follows along, step by step. He gives it a decent shot but the neck of his crane is a bit limp.
“Show me again.” He hands me another piece of paper and I go over the instructions once more. This time, he makes it perfect. He holds it up proudly in his palm, looking at it from each angle.
He lowers his eyes to mine and says, “Beautiful.”
I duck my head shyly, letting my dark hair fall around my face like a curtain. The look in his eyes told me he wasn’t talking about the paper crane.
“I think you’ve got it,” I say and move on to help someone else, but I still feel the weight of his gaze. It settles over me like a warm cozy blanket, one I want to wrap myself in, but I can’t let that happen. I pretend not to notice him watching me and stand in the center of the circle we formed on the floor to say, “I thought we could each take our paper cranes with us and leave them in random places. On a restaurant table, a parked car, you get the idea.” I clasp my hands together and emotion clogs my throat. “It means a lot for you guys to participate in this.”
Murmurs go around the group and I go back to helping people finish before we have to go.
When group ends, I gather up the paper cranes I made and go to stuff them in my purse, but there’s already one in there.
For a moment, my heart stops and cries Ben, but I know there’s no way that’s possible. I take out the paper crane and lift it up.
It’s green.
I unfold it, revealing the words written on it.
In elegant handwriting, it says:
