random hookup. He was someone you could have spent the next 57 years with. I had thought I was emotionally invincible. My heart laughs. A heart’s laugh sounds a lot like a waterfall. Everything can hurt you, Will, my heart says; why do you think you erected walls around yourself and let few people in? I let him in, I say. I loved him, I tell my heart. I love him. And not just a greeting-card aisle kind of love. I mean a spend-every-day-with-him kind of love, a for-worse-or-for-better kind of love, a – and my heart interrupts me. I know, Will, my heart says. I feel what you feel, you know. He helped you know yourself. You built those walls around yourself, not to keep others out, but to trap yourself inside. Those walls he wanted to tear down, he couldn’t tear them down. You had to climb up and out. And you did. You are out. And you didn’t die. Holly doesn’t hate you. You didn’t lose Avery. You won’t lose Aurora. But I lost him, I say. Maybe, says my heart. I love him, I say. Still love, not loved. I know, Will, my heart says. My heart knows what I haven’t told Holly. Want to go to Paris?, I ask my heart. We’ll drink espresso and covet cigarettes. We’ll take naps under the Eiffel Tower. We’ll walk the length of the Seine. We’ll spend an entire day at the Louvre. We’ll pray and light candles at Notre Dame. We’ll hunt gargoyles and the headstones of famous people. What did Carrie (my psychiatrist) tell you about making plans to take spur-of-the-moment, expensive trips?, my heart asks. We don’t need Paris, Will, my heart says. Spend time with your family and with yourself. Letting me heal here will have the same result as letting me heal in Paris. Besides, I don’t speak French. Maybe we should learn, I say. Oui, my heart says. Oui is about all the French my heart and I know. I am not broken, my heart says. We are not broken. How do you know? I am only hibernating, my heart says. Soon, it will be spring. And I trust my heart because it is my heart and how can I not trust it?
Henderson
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