Watch Over Me (28 page)

Setting it down and picking up another one, I scan the words and think about him sitting
at his kitchen table with his head bent over the napkins while he writes the words
that are in his heart. I read through each and every one again and again and let his
words fill my heart.

I love you because you make me smile.

I love you because you trusted me to keep you safe.

I love you because you make delicious cupcakes.

I love you because you're stronger than you know.

I love you because you're beautiful.

I love you because you make me happier than I've ever been.

I love you because you're not afraid to dream.

I love you because someday, you will write your story…and it will be amazing.

When I get to the last one, I look up and stare at the old ones from him I still have
tacked to the bulletin board, scanning each and every one of those as well until I
get to one tacked right in the middle. Goosebumps form on my arms and a chill runs
down my spine when I see a note that wasn't there when I came home from the cemetery
and fell asleep on top of my covers, fully clothed, surrounded by Zander's words.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I get up slowly and make my way across
the room until I'm standing right in front of the board. My vision blurs from the
tears, and I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep the sobs in when I realize I'm not
seeing things.

How is this possible? I crumpled this up and threw it into the grass at the cemetery.

With a shaking hand, I reach out and touch the note to see if it's real. When I feel
the rough texture of the napkin under my fingertips, the hand against my mouth can
no longer contain my sobs.

I let everything out that I've been holding in for so long. I cry until I'm taking
hiccupping breaths and my head aches and my eyes feel puffy. I stare at the note,
the handwriting, and the message, and for the first time in a long time, I laugh through
my tears. I laugh because I'm all cried out. I laugh because my heart feels like it's
going to burst. I laugh because I'm probably going crazy but it doesn't matter. Nothing
matters but the note, what it says, and the impossibility of it being in my room right
now when I threw it away.

Turning away from the board, I race over to my computer, sit down and power it up.

As I wait for my word processing software to load, I wipe away my tears and think
about the words Zander said to me that day in the park with Luke.

"It's the bumps and the bruises, the pain and the fear; it's messy and it's real and
it's not some perfect little story that can be tied up in a bow. It's exactly what
you should write about."

I hear his voice encouraging me to do something I've thought about but never had the
strength to do. I see his smiling face in my mind, and it gives me the boost I need
to do this.

Placing my hands over the keys on my laptop, I type the first sentence—words that
I've repeated over and over in my head. My fingers fly over the keys and the story
pours out of me along with more tears. I make it real and I make it raw, and I expose
every single part of myself that I've kept locked up tight.

For two days I sit at my computer. For two days I relive every part of the last year
and a half, and for once it doesn't break me. I forget to eat, I barely sleep; I do
nothing but type. I type until my fingers are sore and my head aches from crying and
staring at the small computer screen. I type until the very last word leaves me. When
I finish, I look back through what I've done and realize I've written a book. Not
a short story, or a play…a book. An entire book about my life.

I know I should eat something, or at the very least take a nap, but I can't. There's
someplace very important I need to be, and a nap will have to wait. Hitting the "print"
button on my computer, I jump in the shower while the pages spit out, one after another.

When I'm done with my shower and the printer has released the final page, I secure
the stack with a rubber band. Running into my room to grab my purse, I glance quickly
at my bulletin board. Taking a deep breath, I remove the one napkin from the center
of the board and slide it under the rubber band, running my palm over it and smiling,
then quickly turn to my bed and grab the most important one from Zander.

Jumping into my car, I race across town, glancing over at the pages stacked on my
passenger seat every few seconds. I pull into the driveway, and when I don't see his
car, I try not to let it upset me. Grabbing a pen and the napkin from Zander I brought
with me, I quickly scribble a note underneath his words and stick it under the rubber
band next to the other napkin from my bulletin board. Scooping the stack of pages
up into my arms, I get out of the car. With a deep breath, I walk to the top of the
stairs of the front porch. I squat down and place the rubber band wrapped pages right
on top of his welcome mat.

Standing back up, I look down one last time at the napkin with both of our messages
on it.

Three months later.

Sitting at my desk by the window, I finish typing the last sentence of my paragraph
and hit
save.
Closing my eyes and stretching my arms above my head, I work out the kinks in my shoulder
from sitting so long. When I open my eyes again a few minutes later, I glance down
at my computer and smile. On top of my keyboard is a napkin, and I laugh when I read
the words.

I've lost count of how many napkins I have now. I still keep each and every one of
them, but they're no longer tacked to my bulletin board since I ran out of room on
that thing a long time ago. Looking over at the wall where the board used to hang,
I sigh and smile again when I see the only note that hangs there now. It's in a glass
frame that Zander bought for me as soon as he finished reading my story a few months
ago. Getting up from my computer chair, I walk over to the frame and stare at it,
thinking about the day I found that napkin taped to the wall of Dr. Thompson's empty
office, and then the day I found it again. The words don't fill me with confusion
or sadness anymore. When I read them, I think about the impossible and how if you're
lucky enough and loved enough, sometimes incomprehensible, amazing things can happen
to you.

Running my fingertips over the smooth glass, I silently read the words to myself.

I take a deep breath as I smile at the words and the drawing of the stick figure with
arms open wide, dropping my hand from the glass, and back away from the wall. Glancing
over at my computer, I know it's time to do something I've been putting off for far
too long. I quickly walk back over to my desk and lean down, opening up a browser
window and logging into Facebook. I go to her page and the sight of her profile picture
no longer fills me with pain. Clicking on the
Account Settings
menu, I go right to the
Security
section.

"I love you," I whisper as I click
Deactivate Account.

Stepping away from the computer, I take a deep breath before turning away and heading
out into the kitchen.

"It's about time you got here. I slaved over dinner and it was going to start getting
cold," Zander tells me as he meets me by the doorway and pulls me into his arms. I
look over at the table and see that it's littered with Chinese takeout containers.

"Slaved, huh?" I ask with a laugh.