More Than Forever(103)

"Cameron."

She lets out a low whistle. "Cameron's an artist?"

I take my time and settle my emotions, then stand back up and take in the room. A full-size mural on opposite walls take up the entire space. The other two walls are filled with single page sketches. I move closer, wanting to take them in. "He picked up a pen," I whisper to myself. There are so many sheets of paper, so many sketches. So many memories of us. The river behind his house, our dock by the lake, the front porch of my house, Filmore, a close up of the pegs of his bike, my brothers—each on separate pages, my cabin—everything. He took everything that ever mattered to us and he made his art. "What's this one?" Rose asks, pointing to one that I missed. It's bigger than the others, and framed behind glass. I walk to her so I can see it clearer. "Oh my God," I sob. I lift the frame off the wall and grip it to my chest. Then I sit on the bed and run my fingers over the glass. It's my room, the one he envisioned for me. The walls are filled with books, the fireplace is burning, the armchair is still there, but the little ones are gone. They've been replaced with a draft table. And underneath the sketch are the words that tear my heart in two. 'None of this matters without my forever.'

"What's with the sunrise?" Rose asks, pulling me from my thoughts. She's standing in front of the mural with her back to me.

She looks over her shoulder while I wipe my never-ending tears. "It's the sunrise and sunset," I tell her. "He says it reminds him of our love." I struggle to speak, but I push it down and continue, "Because it's eternal—the rise and fall of the sun. It's forever. Just like us."

***

I leave campus and drive back home. I end up at the one place that I know will help. And I speak to the one person that I know can fix me.

"Mom," I whisper. "I need you."

I lay the flowers in front of her headstone and sit in front of it. "I'm scared," I tell her. "And I'm broken."

I sit for an hour, shedding more tears, wondering how it's possible that tears can keep flowing when your heart is left dry. Then I reach into my bag, pull out pen and notebook, and do something I haven't done since before she passed away.

*Untitled*

By Lucy Lovesalot.

...

-CAMERON-

She was supposed to be on campus yesterday, but I haven't heard a word. She hasn't contacted me, or Micky—so Jake tells me. If she's seen her room, surely someone would know. I've left Rose as a last resort because I don't know if she knows anything that happened to us this summer, and I don't want to be the one to tell her.

"Dude," Minge says, walking into our room. He lifts a package in his hands to show me. "Have you seen this?"

I narrow my eyes before getting off my desk chair and taking it from his hands. Sitting on the bed, I look at the newspaper wrapped package with my name scribbled on it in Lucy's handwriting.

"So... I'm gonna go... and uh... do... something else," Minge mutters.

I glance back up at him. "Thanks man."

He nods before leaving the room and shutting the door after him.

I wipe my hands on the bedspread, waiting for my heart to stop thumping. On the first breath that doesn't feel like a thousand hammers to my chest, I slowly rip it open. It's the Back to the Future hoodie she had in that picture she texted from New Jersey, a model Delorean, and a folded note. The thumping of my heart starts again, but I don't wait for it to settle. I unfold it and read the first line.

Untitled - by Lucy Lovesalot.

I laugh once, and then stop myself, because I have no fucking clue what her next words will do to me.

******

This is a story of a boy, and a girl, falling in love.

Or at least it should be. But it's more than that. It's a story of a boy and a girl who fell so hard in love that love was the only thing they knew. And for so long, that love was enough. That love was their everything.

They shared their dreams, their hopes, their plans for their future. They shared it all, and in doing so, they gave themselves each other. Not just in the physical sense, but in all the other senses possible. Then one night, after sharing their most intimate possession, the girl got scared. She worried that maybe someday the boy would not be there, and this broke the girl's heart.

"You're wrong," the boy told her. And then he proceeded to tell her his thoughts, his dreams, and what he envisioned for their future. Kids. He wanted a perfect little house, with his perfect little wife, and their perfect little kids.

And the girl—her heart swelled at the thought of it. Not just of their future, but of their now. And the eternal love the boy showed for her.

And then one day... it was over.

Just like that.

They shed a thousand tears, over and over. And when it was done, they shed a thousand more.