31. Petra

Chapter thirty-one

Petra

MARCH

Days pass, as boring as before. While Reed was here, Swift River blossomed full of life and color. In his absence, there’s only my nosy family and long days at the grocery store. I fall into my old routine, minus the DKP audios. I cancel my subscription, unwilling to replace the real, warm, funny Reed with a fantasy in my head.

It used to be that my imagination would fly straight to Galin whenever I had spare time. While I still love it there, more of my free moments are stuck on Reed. What did he have for breakfast? What is he recording today? What geographic wonder is he exploring, and is there anyone sitting next to him? Does anyone tell him how beautiful he looks when draped in sunshine? I miss his arms around me, his smug smile, his midnight confessions.

When the ache hits, I pull up the photo he sent of us in front of the waterfall. There aren’t shadows in either of our faces there. I want to tell him about my day, or ask him about his. I want to make up imaginary lands with him and watch his dimple appear when he laughs. But he doesn’t call.

Livi calls repeatedly, but I send each one to voicemail. I’m not ready to hear how I should’ve handled things.

Papa sits with me late at night, after Bella Vita closes. We don’t speak about Reed or Natalia, but instead Papa slips quietly into Italian and shares his childhood memories while living in Parma.

He’s a good storyteller, and I soak up the moments we have together, but my chest aches, even in his company. No amount of antacids, family remedies, or late night stories makes it fade.

Swift River, as a whole, is taking the gossip seriously. I’ve always been sweet Petra, kind Petra, heartbroken Petra, poor-thing Petra . Now I’m slutty Petra . They assumed a lot about me and Nate—that I wasn’t enough for Nate to stay. I wasn’t, but Reed taught me that Nate also wasn’t enough for me.

So I let people think some guy blazed through town and I ended up in his bed quicker than dandruff. I stay silent, saving all the best parts of Reed for myself. The occasional woman leans over the conveyor belt and says, “Good for you, honey,” and I smile back unabashedly. No more shame.

Family dinner comes and goes, and I force myself not to retreat to the corner. Tommy pours me a glass of wine, and we huddle together on the sofa and take turns making Hailey laugh. “Did you ever call Annamaria?” I ask quietly, so no one else can hear.

Tommy shifts under the weight of my stare. “Yes. I’m dating Jasmin. Only Jasmin.”

“I’m proud of you,” I say, and Tommy meets my smile with his own.

Livi must tell the group chat that Reed flew home, because Silla texts me the next morning.

Hey, Troni. Haven’t heard from you. How are you holding up?

I’m fine

Yeah, you sound super fine. Talk to me.

I switch my phone to silent and tread back into Galin, where the pretty pastels and bright, sunny afternoons chase away my gloom. My writing method shifts in a monumental way. Instead of living vicariously through Natalia, she and I work together. I appreciate her journey instead, watching her learn and grow.

I dive into my earliest installations, editing them with a practiced eye compared to when I’d written them. Something foreign moves through me, and I can’t place it. Optimism, determination, ambition? None of those words quite fit.

I’m pondering it as I get ready for work, but my phone chimes with a text from Reed, and all my thoughts derail.

Hey Pet. Call me after your shift?

It’s been six days, but his words still linger in my ear. It’s not fair, not fair , because text should be a layer of defense against him and his voice that makes me melt, but it’s not. I wasn’t delusional enough to assume he’d call me when he landed, but the week apart confirmed my suspicions. Naked people don’t stay friends, and I’m not about to be his booty call.

I don’t text back.

Instead, I send my first four installments of Natalia’s series to a local print shop. It’s my first time printing any of my work, and anxiety builds in my stomach. What if I see it and hate it? But with Reed gone, I need something tangible. A dream that’s within reach. I need to hold hope in my hands.

Zia Carla corners me at the register—I swear she shops for gossip, not groceries. “Will you come to the rosary tomorrow, Petra? Maybe reconnecting with God will bring you clarity. Help you find your path.”

I bristle, but I’m saved from answering when an unfamiliar blonde rushes up to the register. “Sorry, but someone’s alarm is going off in the parking lot!”

Perfect timing. Maybe God does remember me.

I smile at Carla before I turn to the girl. She’s striking, with light blue eyes and a lithe figure I haven’t had since I was eight. “What kind of car?”

“A white one?” she guesses with a smile, and I laugh.

“Hey, Ray?” I call over to him. “Could you help Carla to her car and also check out the car alarm that’s going off in the parking lot? I’ll broadcast it. ”

“Sure thing. Carla, how’re your boys?” Ray takes her arm and walks her to the doors.

“Sorry,” the girl says, grabbing a soda and a candy bar. “I’m not observant. I can barely remember my own.” She shrugs before turning and taking a selfie right in the checkout aisle. Her wide smile is contagious, and I scan her items with a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m not either. Most days, my yellow scrape is the only beacon I need. Do you want a bag?”

“That’s okay. I’m only getting something because I have to use your bathroom—the gas station was just —no .” She grimaces. “I’m trying to hit some waterfalls in the area on my drive south.”

“Monty’s not known for his cleanliness,” I admit. “Have you gone up to the waterfall loop? I was there the other day. They’re running fast from the recent rain. Only if you have someone with you, though. It’s not a great idea to hike alone.”

She blinks her huge, blue eyes at me. “Who do you usually go with?”

I press against my sternum and the rough pang that vibrates there. “Oh. I had a friend but…it’s just me for now. My brother might be up for it.” I take a moment to consider the truth of it. Tommy’s pretty athletic, and we’re growing closer every day.

“Wish I had a brother to hang out with. I’m just passing through, but who knows? Maybe I’ll be back sooner than later.” She smiles as she passes me a bill, and squints to read my nametag. “Thanks for the tip, though, Petra. I’m sure you get this all the time, but you have beautiful eyes.”

“Oh, thank you. Nothing like yours, though. You’re gorgeous.” I’m sad that she’s not sticking around. Reed only knew me from what I decided to share. I’d love to have other friends like that. People I connect with, not because of proximity, but because of a shared camaraderie. I hand her the change and her receipt with a smile. “I hope you have a great trip wherever you’re headed. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks. You too.” She smiles at me and heads for the bathroom .

The afternoon drags. Each tick of the clock is one minute closer to holding the kingdom of Galin in my hand. I can’t wait to run to the print shop to pick it up. But the store grows busier, and Ray finds me a half hour before my shift is over. “Nancy called in sick. Could you stay an extra couple of hours? Maybe you want to make some up from calling out last week?”

Guilt sits in my stomach. I wasn’t sick, and Nancy covered my entire shift for me while I was at the beach. “Yeah, no problem. I can stay until a replacement comes in.” Ray squeezes my arm in relief.

But by the time I finish my shift, the print shop is closed. I swallow my disappointment as I walk to the car. I squint at it from several spaces away, where something glints in red on my window. I grit my teeth at the bright lipstick streaks that spell out whore. The judgment in this town is unreal.

I turn, though I know the culprit is long gone, and slump against the side. “Maybe I just wanted some dick!” I huff. “How terrible would that be?”

Better than half-falling in love with some guy in a week.

At least Reed would be proud that I said something about wanting dick in a public parking lot. I laugh, and there’s a warmth in my chest that has me aching to text him. He takes away the power of the lipstick on the window, and I grin as the sanitizing wipes in my glove compartment smear it beyond recognition.

I manage to hold on to my blasé attitude through the night and into Sunday morning. There’s no follow up text from Reed, and hurt mixes with relief. I knew it wouldn’t take much to get him to lose interest, and dangling unrealistic possibilities in front of me would only prevent me from moving on.

I don’t go to Rosary, but I do spend the day away from my laptop. I leave my headphones at home and follow a small hiking path to a nearby waterfall, embracing the fresh air. Reed’s voice echoes in my head, pointing out forest features that send my imagination soaring .

I want to tell him about the Marionberry fairies, or the Walloping Woodpeckers who are the service detail to their Queen. I lean against a tree, typing out the whole story to him of the queen’s thwarted assassination attempt by the cruel leader of the scrub jays.

I swallow the thump in my throat and delete the block of text, stuffing the phone in my pocket.

After I regroup with a toffee iced coffee, I head to the print shop, where Georgie Faulk is working behind the counter. “Petra!” he greets me with a smile.

“Georgie.” I smile right back. At seventeen, Georgie still has a round face that hasn’t matured as fast as the rest of him. He’s tall and stocky, with a mischievous but sweet smile that makes his face cherubic. “I heard Darin had to pick you up.”

His cheeks darken and he throws me a sheepish grin. “Yeah. Apparently senior pranks have a legal limit.”

“What did you do? Don’t tell me the rest of them hung you out to dry?”

“We might’ve let a bunch of goats and pigs loose on campus over in Herinsford. They ate…everything. Bushes, grass down to the root, banners, posters.” He bites back a smile, not sorry about messing with our rival school. “Their football field was covered in shit.”

“Georgie!” I reprimand, but we both laugh. “Well? What’s your punishment?”

“Community service. We borrowed Big Billy’s animals, so we all have to help out on the farm.” I imagine Big Billy’s mustache twitched in approval when he found out how his ‘borrowed’ animals had been used. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind, Petra. I kind of saw what you were working on. I won’t say anything, but it’s pretty cool. Something my little sis would like.”

“Thanks.” Warmth builds inside me. Maybe she would like it. Maybe Natalia could make a difference—could be loved by someone more than just me. I smile at him as he hands me a paper bag with my spiral-bound copy heavy inside. “See you around, Georgie.”

I wait until I’m in the car before I unwrap it.

Tales of Galin: Natalia’s Pixie Power by Petronia Diamante.

Before Reed, I never would’ve dreamed of using my full name, but it feels right. A world-changing name , Reed said, though he’s the one who changed my world. I brush my fingers over the title.

Natalia, Natalia, Natalia. Her name doesn’t shatter me. Finally, I have a memory of her that’s more than grief, heartbreak, or bitter dreams. This is my love for her in ink.

The weight of it hits me. I’ve done something incredible. I took an idea and made it real. I finished it, unlike how I never finished school, or got married, or raised Natalia. Not all my dreams are outside my grasp. Not anymore.

The tears climb up my throat before I can check them, and Reed’s voice fills my ears. Just cry, baby.

And I do. I bury my head in my hands and sob. The sunlight bakes into me as tears pour out. Each one is a drop of grief, depression, anger, fear—all the emotions that held me hostage and tied me down over the last nine years. Each breaks the hold they had on me.

I want to share this with Reed. He knows what it means to create. Knows the terrifying and thrilling knowledge that it will be in someone else’s hands. That my words will live outside of me. I glance to my side, expecting to see my best friend joined at my hip, but there’s just an empty space. That’s what he is. A sexy best friend, definitely, but someone who saw me, called me out on my lies. Held me. I hope he felt seen, understood, and valued, too.

But Reed is a world away. In a pathetic and desperate effort to be closer to him, I get a waffle from Imelda’s Diner and nibble on it in my car while I reread Natalia’s story. Galin is as vibrant as ever: Natalia’s little woodland village, her pastel unicorn, even the way I imagined she’d look at eight years old. All of it is vivid in my mind.

It’s a short read for an adult, perfect for the ten-year-old bracket, and packed full of adventure. The obstacles are huge for little Natalia, but she and her friends use kindness with a warrior’s ferocity to overcome them.

More changes need to be made, but since I have a large number of installments written, I can weave bigger arcs throughout the series. Its flaws don’t diminish its beauty. These winged pages will carry Natalia’s name into the future, instead of whispered quietly through tears in the dark.

Hope fills the place inside of me that was cold and empty. I curl up on the seat, with my book tucked to my chest, and fall asleep in full sun. Warm and whole, all on my own.

When I wake, the sun sits low on the horizon. I park in the street, surprised to see so many cars in front of my parents’ home. I arm myself with my manuscript, but hesitate on the porch. My family might hate it. Worse than that, they might not want to remember Natalia, or understand what she means to me. I hide it in my tote to share later, when I’m ready. If I’m ever ready.

Laughter spills out the front door, and I steel myself in the hallway.

“Troni!” a voice squeals. I’m engulfed in a tight hug, and Silla’s smiling face presses to mine. She’s emphasized her tight curls, with a short haircut that makes her appear even more mischievous than before. We could’ve passed for twins as children, but now we’re complete opposites, from hair to clothing to confidence.

“Silla.” I clutch her shoulders and blink back fresh tears.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me.” Silla laughs weakly, and I nod against her.

“I’m ecstatic. What are you doing here? It’s not Sunday! Where’s Josie?”

“She had to work. But Livi and I decided it was time for a visit. It doesn’t have to be Sunday to have family dinner, you know? I’m staying tonight, and I’ll head back to Seattle tomorrow.”

Silla drove four hours to be with me. “Thank you,” I say, pulling her in for another hug. Second to Reed, it’s her I want to share Natalia with. But before she can let go, everyone barrels into us with hugs, as though we’ve all been apart too long. Maybe we have been—me disconnected by my grief, Silla by distance, Tommy by secrets.

As one big Diamante family, we take a collective inhale. Everything fits into place, though there are gaps around the edges—Reed and Josie—and those passed on: Nonno, Nonna, Zio David, Natalia. But the links around me are strong. I shouldn’t have neglected them when all they wanted was to help carry my burdens.

Like a dam, I burst open, all my feelings pouring out into their arms. “I’m sorry.” I sob through tears that blind me. “I cut myself off. I forgot how to lean on you. I lost myself. I’m so sorry I forgot how to be part of this family.”

“No need to say you’re sorry, stellina, ” Papa says, rubbing my back.

Mama squeezes my shoulder. “The words you’re looking for are, ‘I love you.’”

It’s been too long since we’ve said it.

“I love you,” I say, and then Livi does, and then it echoes all around me. There are murmurs over and over, like the Rite of Peace at church. Even Antonio and Lilly’s little voices join in, giggling, unsure of exactly what we’re doing. Our chorus merges into one, and love moves through us like magic.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Sunday Mass comes to us, and church lives in our kitchen.