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The world felt off after I’d pulled her close. Instead of caring about my goal to stay away from her, I thought of everything I could do to make her smile. I should have excused myself to another room to give her space, to givemespace. Instead, I stood, looking for something to make music for her.
I found one of Amma’s antique snow globes on the side table. It was of kids playing in a scenic village. On the bottom was a tab to wind it to play music.
“Here,” I said, gently setting it on the table. “This isn’t the same, but it works.”
“I haven’t seen this thing in forever,” she said. “Does it still work?”
I wound it up and a simple version of “Frosty the Snowman” played.
“It’s better than nothing.”
I was rewarded with a grateful smile as I set it back down. “This helps.”
Her eyes fell to the puzzle, and I couldn’t help but think about the hug again. I needed to stop, but every moment I got to touch her was all that was on my mind.
Slowly, she separated all of the edge pieces. She and Amma had always been organized by their puzzle building while Nick and I worked on the easy-to-connect pieces, like Santa’s face. Nick was abysmally bad at them, so I usually handed him pieces that went together.
Stella and I had always been the ones who were the most efficient, but this time I didn’t reach for any pieces. I was too busy thinking of her.
“You gonna help me?” she asked. “I can do this by myself, but it’s more fun when I don’t have to piece together the center.”
“Yeah, sorry. I got distracted.”
She glanced up at me and our eyes met. For a second, we only stared. Then she broke the contact and went back to the puzzle. I followed suit.
She had half the edge down within ten minutes, and I had the sled built in the same amount of time.
I was pulled out of my concentration when she snapped a photo. “This is a calm moment,” she said. “It’ll be nice to remember.”
“My hands might ruin the shot.”
She glanced at them and looked back at the developing photo. “No, I think it will be fine. The photo is turning out great.”
I didn’t know how hands could look great at all, but I didn’t question her.
“Is it this quiet where you live?” she asked after we lapsed back into silence.
“Sometimes. It’s still a park, so every now and then, someone’s rowdy, but oftentimes it’s just nature and the occasional hiker.”
“It’s nice. I’ve lived downtown for the last two years, and it’s so loud sometimes.”
“Living in the city always drained me.”
“I thought I liked it, but everything feltgrayafter a lot of it. Being here feels right.”
“You’re feeling better?”
“Not all the way. I’m still a little sad about wasting two years of my life with Reed. But I’m finding things to take photos of again, and I’m laughing too. I didn’t realize it then, but I gave up way too much of myself while with him. And when the usual comments started, it only got worse.”
“What usual comments?”
“About how I’m too much. About how I dress or how I act. He’s the fourth guy in a row who I was a problem for.”
“Fourth?”
Her eyes drifted up to me. “Don’t act so shocked. I’m sarcastic, loud, and colorful—at least when I’m myself. It’s not exactly what people are looking for in a long-term partner.”
I could only stare. How could someone look at someone as bright as her and call hertoo much?How could they ever ask her to change a single fucking thing about herself when she was already so damn perfect?