all that we were losing (2)

Continued from all that we were losing (1)

Our feet take us to a small bookstore down the block. It’s a small, independent shop. We met the owners once and they agreed to stock Anthony’s books before he found a major publisher. He grabs my hand as we make our way through rows upon rows of books.

“This, this was the first book. I’ve come out with so many others but nothing beats the first book. And on page…” He flips through the book furiously. “Seven, on page 7 you see…”

“Me, in a hoodie.”

“Yes, and then…” he puts the book back into the shelf and scans for the next title. “This came out the following year. On page 14, you see…”

“Me, in another hoodie. Yes, I’ve seen all this before.”

“You say you knew I stopped loving you when I stopped drawing you. I offer irrefutable evidence that I never stopped.” He puts the book back and scans for the next one. It’s sealed so he looks around for a bit then tears the plastic off the cover.

“You can’t!”

“Oh yes, I can.” he says, an alarming amount of confidence in his voice. “Whatever, I’ll pay for it. Here, what comes after 7 and 14.”

“21?”

“Turn to page 21.”

“I’ve seen this before,” I say, leafing through the book. “I know I’m not…” 

“Look again. If you unfold it…” All of a sudden, it felt like someone threw a bucket of ice water over me. There, behind an inconspicuous fold in the paper was something that wasn’t there before. This drawing in this book that has been sealed in a box in my attic all these years, that has haunted me in my dreams for years, it was here all along. There, in the corner of page 21 was someone I never thought I would see. You’d miss it if you weren’t paying attention but if you lift the flap you will see what was hidden – a little boy with sullen eyes, sitting all alone in a black hoodie.

“What? How did this happen? I saw the drawings with my own eyes.”

“There were revisions and I added that in before we hit press.”

“Wait, no. That doesn’t make sense. We had broken up long before the first copy was printed.” He nods, eyes wide, lips spread into a closed-lip grin like he was saying I know. He must be so happy to be proving me wrong.

“What can I say? I never stopped.” There was something about the way he said that. It made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

“Stopped what?” I ask, shaking in my boots. “Drawing me or loving me?”

He looks me straight in the eye and for a second, it felt like he was home. “When you love somebody, truly love somebody the way we did, do you ever really stop?”

---

We make our way to the counter in silence. The person at the register barely looks up, scans the book and upon recognizing it, he offers a signed copy. 

“No, that’s okay. This copy’s fine,” he says, a knowing smile on his face. I offer to pay but he waves my hand away. “You’ve bought enough of my books. Think of this as a gift. For my number one fan. Thank you for supporting me.”

I thank him, put the book in my bag, and we make our way out of the bookstore.

“Looks like it’s starting to rain again,” he tells me. The first drops of rain begin to fall.

“This awning won’t fit the both of us.” He takes his phone out and I can see he’s booking a ride.

“That’s okay. I need to get home anyway.” He opens his bag and brings out a bone-dry umbrella. “Here, take this. You might need it.” I look up, confused.

“You mean you had an umbrella all this time and you didn’t say anything?” He smiles at me, that reassuring smile I used to know when he was mine.

“I wasn’t stranded, I just… didn’t want to waste the reunion.”

“So you… You mean… Ugh. You’re crazy.”

“No, you’re crazy,” he says. “That’s my ride. Catch you later?” He runs across the street, waving at the driver, his boots making large splashes on the concrete. He nods one last goodbye as he gets in the car. I stand there under the awning with a borrowed umbrella, all of my feelings, and some of the blame, with only one thought in my head. 

I practically run home, the wind feeling fierce between my legs and in my lungs. I had to see it. I didn’t have a second to waste. I get home, drop my drenched things on the living room floor, and fly up the stairs to the attic. There, in a box marked Do Not Open was the answer to a five-year-old question.

On page 7 of the first book, a boy in a black hoodie watches some kids playing.

One page 14 of the second book, the boy in the black hoodie cheers for the winning team.

On page 21 of the third book, behind a hidden flap, the boy in the black hoodie sits all alone.

On page 28 of the fourth book, the boy in the black hoodie is walking away.

On page 35 of the fifth book, the boy in the black hoodie is barely in view.

On page 42 of the sixth book, the boy in the black hoodie is almost a shadow but you can still make out his figure.

On page 49 of the seventh and final book, the boy in the black hoodie is waving goodbye. In my head, I can still hear him. When you love somebody, truly love somebody the way we did, do you ever really stop?

I sit in the middle of my dusty attic, surrounded by a circus of plastic wrappers, books, and memories. I’m not crazy. I know this ship has sailed. But I also know that because I once loved him, truly and with all my heart, there’s no way I could ever stop. 

I never really stopped.

♫: Carly Rae Jepsen | Roses (2016)

🎉 HAPPY 100,000 STREAMS! This episode is out a few days early because I’m celebrating a milestone for this show. As of this moment, tsiwyh has been streamed 100,000 times! This was just a little project I started in my bedroom two years ago. I know you have a lot of choices when it comes to podcasts out there so every time you stream, tweet, or tag me in an Instagram story, it really means a lot to me.

Thank you for always being there. I hope that I can continue telling you the stories i wish you heard.