Page 26

Luna Moth by Maya Hawke

I rub my feet into the sand as I watch my friends run around the beach, and for some reason, all I can think about is my family.

The last time I saw them was right before I left for England, and like my friends, I didn't keep in contact.

The last thing my mother told me was that I’m destined to be alone.

Those words have stayed with me over the years.

Sure, I wasn't the most forthcoming child, and I didn't really tell my parents much of anything. I kept to myself of my own accord, and I don’t regret that.

They barely knew my friends, and any interaction we had back then was awkward at best. I could always hear it—the disappointment in their voices when we interacted.

I wasn't who they wanted me to be, and they didn't like who I became on my own.

Not only did I disappoint them by not going to medical school or getting a good job like my brother did, but I followed my dreams. I knew they would see my path as a waste of time, which is why I didn't bother telling them when I changed my major.

I knew there would be a conversation coming that I didn't want to have.

Instead of that, I got a passive-aggressive text, and that was the end of it.

We never spoke of it again, even when I graduated.

That’s kind of how my relationship with my parents has been my whole life. We don’t really talk about anything. Whenever I was struggling, all I was told to do was try harder. Never mind the fact that I already felt like I was trying ten times harder than everyone else to do the simplest of things.

That would always happen when I was younger, too.

When my parents were mad at me for whatever reason, none of us would talk about it, and then a few days later, a new notebook would show up on my bed, or something they thought would cheer me up.

Life would continue as if nothing had ever happened, and nobody would ever bring anything up.

Therapy has been helping me rewire my brain to actually talk about things, and since being medicated, my thoughts have become less scrambled and all over the place.

I block out time specifically on my planner for things I need to do, and they actually get done.

Lists with things I can check off is the greatest adjustment I’ve made for my brain to actually have motivation to do certain tasks.

I’ve done all this work on my own, and part of me wants to mend my relationship with them at some point like I have with the girls.

I want them to be able to understand my brain. I want to be the family I wished we were when I was younger, but we all have to be willing, and I don’t know if they’ll feel how I do.

I know I’m a disappointment to them, but I still can’t help but wonder if they’re proud of me.

I can’t help but wonder what they would say if they saw me now.

I’m older. I look a little different. I finally found my own sense of style.

I’m basically a grown adult—a real one, not just a kid pretending to be one.

I wonder if I tried to repair my relationship with them, if it would be of any use.

Would they actually sit down and listen to what I have to say?

Would they be willing to hear me speak, or would they do that thing a lot of adults do and assume I’m na?ve because I’m young and the world hasn't jaded me yet?

I don’t know how to tell people who think that way that your experiences are what shape you—age doesn't really matter. I’ve grown so much in the past two years. I want them to be able to see me for who I am now. I want them to be proud of what I’ve become, despite them not believing in me.

“Amelia!” Grant shouts from across the sand. “Do you want to be on my team for cornhole?”

I come back to reality, digging my hands into the sand to ground myself. “Sure! I’m not the best at cornhole, though. Are you sure you don’t want Leo to be your partner?”

“Oliver is about to teach him how to surf. Well, attempt to teach him.” Grant smiles. “He’s not a great teacher, but Hads is out there too. I don’t care if you’re good or not; all we have to do is win.”

“Who are we playing against?” I ask as I get up.

“Me!” Paige smiles as she comes over to us. “I finished my book, and I need to get my legs moving.”

“Let’s go,” Grant says as he practically pulls me over to the boards in the sand. Paige and Grant say nothing as they head across from me, and I’m about to ask who Paige is playing with, but my question is answered when Henry appears next to me .

“I guess we’re board partners,” he says, definitely not excited about that.

“Grant, are you sure you want to be on that side? Isn't this side better for your throwing arm?”

He shakes his head. “Nope! I’m okay over here.”

Of course he is. I'm going to have a talk with those two later. Anyone with eyes can tell what they’re doing, and it’s not my intention to hurt Henry more than I already have.

They’re trying to get us back together, I’m sure. If by some miracle they're not doing that, then whatever they are doing is cruel. The point of this trip is to celebrate Paige and Oliver, not to make me and Henry talk about what went down at the airport all those years ago.

I don’t know if we’ll ever discuss it, but Henry has mentioned he wants answers.

I just don’t know when he wants to actually talk.

The only time the two of us have been alone besides the elevator was when he spilled coffee on himself.

I know I owe him a conversation, but is now really the best time?

“Can you really not bear to stand next to me for a simple game of cornhole?” Henry whispers under his breath, and I suddenly feel like sinking into the sand.

“No, I just figured you would be more comfortable with Grant over here instead of me.”

“Stop assuming things about me, Amelia. You don't know me well enough anymore to be able to do that.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I agree.

“Are you guys ready?” Paige calls out from the other board.

“Yeah!” I say as I swing my arm out. “Bride’s team goes first.”

Paige throws the first few, and we play a few rounds, the four of us shouting taunts across the sand at one another.

Just being back in Henry’s orbit has made me feel off my axis, and I’m sure it’s noticeable.

After a few more tosses, we’re down to the wire.

Grant needs to make it into the hole and another on the board.

Paige has to do the same. So far, neither of us has points this round because Paige and Grant have tied what they’ve gotten.

“You’ve got this.” Paige is hyping herself up for her final shot. When she misses the board entirely, Grant smiles at me. He throws and makes it on the board. Now, it’s up to me to close out this game.

“Alright, Amelia, bring it home for us, okay?” Grant smiles at me before I hear Henry scoff beside me.

I look over at him, and I can tell that was a reaction he didn't mean to say out loud.

“Something to say?” I ask, my voice low so only he can hear it.

“No. Sorry,” he says as he shifts the beanbag from hand to hand.

Suddenly, the sand feels coarse beneath my feet, and I can hear my blood pumping through my veins. I somehow throw my shots, but Henry and Paige end up winning. As they celebrate, Grant comes over to me.

“Do you need some water?”

I nod, unable to form words to speak.

“Here,” Grant says as he pulls up one of the beach chairs for me, and I sit down. “Are you good?”

“Yup,” I say as I choke the words out. “Swell.”

“You always were a terrible liar.” He smiles at me before looking at the sand. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Why would you want to talk to me, Grant?” I snap at him, regretting it immediately. “I didn't mean to sound so—”

“Cruel?”

I laugh, and my mind starts to settle. “Yeah.”

“And as for why I want to talk to you, it’s because I’ve missed my friend, Amelia, and you look… Well, if I’m being honest, you look like shit right now, and I want to help however I can. ”

“Even after I left and never looked back? Even after you almost died and I didn't even call to ask if you were okay? I’m a terrible person, Grant. I don’t deserve any kindness from you.”

“You’ve made mistakes, Amelia, and you’re aware of them. I’m not going to give you more reasons to hate you than you’re already giving yourself.”

I take a deep breath as I take a few more sips of water, the coldness bringing me down from whatever weird spell I just had.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here, Grant, and I’m sorry I didn't call. I should have, but—”

“Hads told me everything. She told me about your diagnosis and the conversation all you girls had in the hotel room.” Grant grabs one of my hands and smacks it. “That’s for leaving.” He gives one of my hands a squeeze. “And that’s me being proud of you for finally talking to someone.”

“It helped more than I thought it would.”

“It always does.” He hands me another bottle of water. “How are you feeling about all of this? I know you’ve made your peace with the girls, but how is it being around Henry? Is that what’s causing this spiral of yours?”

I’ve always loved Grant’s ability to get the point.

He’s also one of the most hopeful people I’ve ever met.

In the back of his mind, I’m sure he’s hoping Henry and I will work out our shit so we can eventually be together again.

I don’t know how to tell him all his hope is for nothing.

I’m sure Henry wants closure so he can move on without me.

Hell, I don’t even know if I’m in a place emotionally and physically where I can handle a relationship. For now, I’m focusing on myself like I’ve been doing for the past nine months.

“It’s weird. Uncomfortable is the only word that comes to mind. Did you know he was going to be here? You are the best man, after all. ”

He nods. “Well, Oliver invited him, so I was aware he was going to be here. I think most of us were unsure if you were actually going to show, so we figured it would be fine. Obviously, you’re here, and we’re happy you are, but we never anticipated what would happen if you were both in the same vicinity again.

You two seem to be okay, despite the tension. ”

“Tension?”

“In my eyes, it's obvious.”

Of course it is. “There’s nothing between Henry and I.”

“But there used to be,” he raises his eyebrows at me. “With the way you guys left things, there’s got to be some unresolved feelings.”

“What would you do if you were Henry in this situation?”

He takes a moment to think about it before he opens his mouth.

“I would want to know why you left. I would have a thousand questions about the relationship, and I’d want answers as soon as I could get them.

Hell, even as myself, I have a lot of questions for you, but I’m not trying to overwhelm you.

You two loved one another, and then you smashed his heart to pieces.

If I were him, I’d want to know why you played with my feelings like that, just to end it the way you did. ”

I guess I should have known that. I have some questions I’d like to ask Henry myself, but I’m too scared. I don’t want to know the answer to some of them, but I know at some point, we’ll be talking about all of it, and I can’t do anything to prepare myself.

There were a lot of reasons why I did what I did.

Fear. Impulsivity due to an undiagnosed condition.

Wanting to spite my parents and prove I could be successful and have a career despite not following the path they wanted for me.

More than anything, I wanted to prove to myself I could have a life outside of the place I grew up in, surrounded by loneliness and people who didn't really know me until I got to college with the girls.

Well, I succeeded in spiting my parents, but I also lost the only true people I ever had around me, and by some miracle, I got them back because I’m putting the work in.

“I don’t want to ruin the wedding our shit. If anything, I was going to talk to him after it was all over.”

“Don’t waste this precious time, Amelia. If my accident taught me one thing, it was that. You can’t spend your entire life waiting for the right moment for things to happen. Sometimes, you have to make it happen for yourself.”

“Thank you.”

He hits my arm softly before he pulls me in for a quick hug. “Listen, I know Ella already knocked some sense into you, but we really did miss you, and I hope you don’t run away again. I’d hate for this to become a recurring theme, and I really don’t like having a ghost for a friend.”

“Don’t worry,” I say as I pull back. “The only other time I’ll be ghosting you guys is if I die and haunt you from the grave.”

“That’s fair, but go to Oliver’s house first and scare the shit out of him before you come and chill at ours.”

I laugh as I imagine that. “I wouldn't dream of anything else.”