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She closed her eyes as a particularly loud boom of thunder rattled the window. The stitches she’d spent so much time working on had been strained under the pain of his reappearance. They’d been ripped asunder by the words she’d hurled at him in anger.
Words she now deeply regretted. No matter how hurt she had been by his decisions, no matter how sad she had been by knowing he would never feel the same way about her as she felt about him, she had been deliberately cruel to the man she loved.
Lovers implies love. We didn’t love each other.
“I can hear you thinking from here.”
Evolet looked over her shoulder to see Constanza watching with an alertness she hadn’t seen in a long time. She moved to the bedside and reached for a pillow.
“Fluff that pillow and I’ll never make my hot chocolate for you again.”
A small smile pulled at Evolet’s lips. “Now that is a dire threat.”
“Everyone keeps coming in to check my water, check the volume on the TV, fluff my pillows.” Constanza huffed. “You can only fluff a pillow so many times. They’re keeping an eye on me.”
“It is a hospital, Constanza. And you did have a nasty fall.”
Constanza’s eyes softened.
“I fell. But I’m here.” She reached over and grasped Evolet’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”
A lump formed in Evolet’s throat. “I was scared.”
“I was, too.” Her silver head dipped, her voice lowering. “I know sometimes I slip away. I know it happens more than I’d like. Every time I come back and realize I’ve forgotten for a while, it feels like I’ve lost another piece of myself.” She looked up then and smiled, tears gathering in her eyes. “But then I see Samuel or I see you, and I take joy in those moments.”
Evolet slowly sank down into a chair. She leaned forward and smoothed a curl back from Constanza’s wrinkled face.
“How do you do it?” she asked. “How do you stay so strong?”
“I don’t always. There are days when it’s hard to get out of bed, moments when I come back from wherever I drift off to and I feel angry or confused or sad. But there’s no guarantee that life will be perfect, child.” Constanza cupped Evolet’s cheek, her skin cool and dry, a balm against the heat of sorrow and anger. “In fact, it would be quite boring. I’ve told you of my life before I came here. So much loss, but so much joy, too. I am more resilient, and happier, because of the hardships I faced.”
Half an hour later, after Constanza had fallen asleep, Evolet slipped downstairs and out into the night air, her adoptive mother’s words of wisdom whirling inside her head. The thunderstorm still grumbled in the distance, but the rain had abated to a light mist that added a mystical air to the shops and restaurants that lined Madison Avenue. Golden light spilled out the windows of a bakery. A florist carried buckets overflowing with tulips and roses inside as he prepared to close for the night.
She sat on a bench under a blue awning. In the building behind her, babies were being born. People said their final goodbye to loved ones. Hope was given, and hope was taken away. In front of her, she watched people walk by, many clutching umbrellas, some sporting raincoats and a few braving the elements, dashing to and from jobs, dates, nights out with friends.
The world moved on. She needed to, too.
Even after she’d let Constanza into her heart, she’d kept it closed to everyone else. She’d told herself the temporary nature of her work gave her the flexibility to pursue her music career. That it had let her keep herself distant had been an added bonus. It had also served as an excuse to keep the members of the Apprentice Symphony at arm’s length. She’d made progress over the past months, yes. But those had been baby steps, easing in without taking any true risks.
The one thing she had told herself she did without inhibition had been her music. But even that had been a lie. She had acquired the skills needed to play, yet she’d held herself back, hidden the passion she’d felt in the subway tunnels behind what she thought professional orchestras would want to hear.
She stood and moved to the edge of the awning. She watched the florist pick up another bucket, this one teeming with scarlet roses. A couple petals fell onto the sidewalk, bloodred against the rain-splattered gray concrete.
She’d hidden her passion for Damon, too. Oh, she’d loved him, had let herself feel more than she’d ever thought she would. But she hadn’t told him. She’d kept it tucked safely away, a secret only she knew.
One step took her out into the rain. Soft drops felt cool on her exposed skin.
She hadn’t even given him a chance. She’d waited for him to make a move, waited to see some confirmation that he might be feeling more. She had wanted all the joy, the pleasure that came from loving someone and none of the pain.
Perhaps, if she’d told Damon how she truly felt, he would’ve told her he didn’t feel the same. Just the possibility of it left her shaken. But it would have been like the other moments she’d shared with Damon: her childhood, her music, the impact Constanza had had on her life. As she’d unburdened herself, the wounds she’d thought carved forever into her heart had begun to heal, enabling her to take those tiny steps that had already enriched her life so much. Whether Damon would have welcomed or returned her feelings was only part of it.
Still, she’d never given him the chance to tell her. And perhaps, in light of his coming down to the hospital today, there was a chance. A foundation, however small, they could build on to create something more. It might be a summer, a year, maybe longer. But she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she wanted to try.
She stepped back under the awning and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She would give him, and herself, a few days before she did anything rash like she’d done tonight.
She punched a number into her phone. There was one thing, though, that couldn’t wait.
A male voice answered. She swallowed hard.
