Ivy

I didn’t expect to be here for very long today. But here I am, sitting on Alder’s front porch. In fact, I only stopped by to say goodbye and give him his keys and hat back. I’m supposed to be getting on a plane in a few hours. I’m heading back to California, but I wanted to say a real goodbye. I told him I was leaving a few days ago. He’s sent messages and called, but I haven’t been able to speak to him. I was too upset, angry. At him, my father, at myself. He asked me to stay. I can’t though. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into with me. I come with a lot of baggage, and I may be mad now, but the depth of my feelings hasn’t changed, and his feelings can’t be anywhere near as intense as mine. It’s freezing, though, so I use the key, not seeing it as an invasion of privacy since he gave it to me, and go inside to wait.

Walking into Alder’s cabin, I’m hit with sadness. I expected this, but it’s one thing to expect; it’s another to experience it. I look at the counter where there's a bag of oranges. A twinge pulls at my heart. I know they’re for me. Or they would have been. I go into the back bedroom and let myself breathe him in. I’ll miss him. So much. More than I’m willing to admit to myself right now. More than I’ve ever missed anyone. I can’t stay for what we’ve been doing if there isn’t a destination in mind—as much as I wish I could. It’s time for me to make myself a priority. Put the things I want in life at the top of my list.

And I want someone to share my life with. I want to build one with someone. After so much soul-searching, I think I want to try and have more babies. Alder played an instrumental part in that emotional shift. I’ll always be grateful to him for the softening of the hard edges I present. Even if we can’t have it together. I feel the sting behind my eyes. If he could have given me anything more than what he did—maybe I could have stayed. What’s waiting for me in California isn’t a lot. I’ll have to start from square one, but it’s a fresh start. Maybe that’s what I need. Maybe what Alder and I need is a clean break. I should leave. He isn’t here, and I shouldn’t be either. I stand and hit my knee into that damn nightstand, and I knock his books off it.

The leather-bound notebook has all my attention. It’s open. I’ve seen him writing in it plenty of times, but I’ve never read any of the things he’s written in there. Curiosity is winning as I pick it up from the floor and read. It’s beautiful. Poetic. Page after page, poem after poem. I turn to the last few pages, and as I read, my throat tightens, and my vision swims.

And I will go where you go.

Hang my hat by your coat.

I’ll follow my soul,

so let it be known .

Where your heart is,

there is my home.

It’s dated five days ago. The one before it is the day before.

She forces me to feel real while

Floating in a daydream

She is as grounding as she is mystical.

She is a tether to my instincts

And a spell cast over my bones.

One after another of beautiful poems, things he thinks but never says. Does he truly feel this way for me? Would he be honest with me about what he wants from me? I guess I’ll be missing my flight tonight. I quickly scribble a note to Alder.

If you truly feel this way,

if what you wrote about in here is about me

then I’ll wait for you, where two other lovers’

story may have ended,

but I want it to be where ours begins.

I place it on top of the book and put it on his bed.

Driving up the mountain is a little eerie. It doesn’t feel like it did the last time I was here with Alder. It’s probably just my nervous energy. What if he doesn’t come? After I’ve put myself out there again. That would be mortifying. He’ll come through. I know that he will. If he doesn’t, I’ll deal with that then, but we’re going to be hopeful, . The sky is clear today. I checked the weather for any pop-up storms, and it showed nothing but clear skies. I tried to be as cautious as I could be. As cautious as Alder would be.

When I get to the turnoff, I take one more second to think. Should I really be doing this? Will he think this is as romantic as it is in my head? He may find it odd, and I’ll admit it is a little. I mean, the lore of this place is that two people committed suicide here. That’s not romantic at all. It’s a fucking tragedy. Oh, shit. Maybe I should have thought a little more before leaving the note. I’ll just send him a text and tell him to disregard my note and go back to his house. I park my SUV and pull out my phone, but I don’t have any service.

“Shit,” I say out loud. “Okay, this is fine. I’ll just wait here for a little while, and if he doesn’t show, I’ll leave, and we never have to talk about it again,” I say out loud again to no one. I get out of my car and take in the beautiful view. I’ll probably only be able to last out here in the cold for another hour or so. Especially because the sun sets quicker here, and once the sun goes down, the temperature will follow. I hop onto the hood of my car, watching the clouds float by, and wait.