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“Making a bunch of playlists. Mac was going to make us listen to ‘Mary, Did You Know?’ during the party tomorrow.”
He snorted out a half-smothered laugh. “What?”
Ryan sighed, but said fondly, “If she ever starts thinking about becoming a party planner, we all need to gently dissuade that idea.”
Chavez laughed again. “Finally. One area your girl doesn’t dominate in.”
I was so awake for this conversation, and I was mentally preening. Please, say more about me. Let’s hear all the good stuff.
I heard the click on my phone as Ryan must’ve changed the songs again. A different one came through the speakers.
“Who’s that one by?” Cris asked.
“Tom Walker. ‘For Those Who Can’t Be Here.’” Ryan ran a hand down my side before getting up. “Let’s do those inflatables downstairs. We won’t have to worry about them tomorrow, and I don’t know what you and Maren are doing tonight, but I want to reserve the basement. Mac wants to do Christmas movies tonight.”
“That sounds fun. Is that a you-two thing, or could Maren and I join?” They went downstairs and their voices faded.
I rolled to my back, stretching out as I opened my eyes.
The room was magical with the soft glow of the lights, and just above on the ceiling, right where I lay, the guys had hung glowing snowflakes with rolls of cotton attached to the ceiling so it gave the idea it was snowing inside the room.
Ryan chose this song for me, letting me listen to it by myself.
Willow. . .
When I felt her in the past, I didn’t know if it was her.
If she spoke in my head.
I had made the decision a long time ago that I didn’t care. If I felt it was her, it was her. I wasn’t going to second-guess it.
I picked up my phone, clicked on the song so it would repeat, and lay back down, listening to the words.
When I told my secret to my counselor, that the note wasn’t Willow’s, that it’d been mine, there was a freeing feeling I got. But I never told Maren last year.
In a way, I’d gone back into the closet. Ryan knew. My family knew. They were the only ones who mattered, or that’s what I thought at the time.
This time was different.
I was approached by so many outlets for interviews, for advocacy options. I’d lost count of how many offers came in. It was all overwhelming, and I’d not made any decision because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.
But people didn’t hate me. They didn’t blame me. They didn’t look at me like I was sick, or weak, or how Kellie thought about me. There were negative responses, but I didn’t pay attention to them. The overwhelming majority was good.
It’d been me telling the world.
That’d been my truth, and it was out. I had nothing else holding me back, nothing else that I was hiding.
Listening to the song lyrics on repeat, I knew some of it wasn’t accurate.
A buzzing sensation went through me, filling me up. It felt happy. It felt content. It felt like her.
Willow was listening to the song with me. She was here, I just couldn’t see her.
I added the song to my personal folder that was titled, Songs for Willow. It might be her new favorite one. And just then, the decision to do the interviews clicked. I was going to do them. All of them. I was going to talk about my truth, and I was going to talk about Willow. It was going to be about both our journeys.
Willow mattered. I mattered.
It felt right.
