Dirty Letters

I hadn’t gotten a single good night’s sleep since ending things with Griffin. I’d have painful thoughts about him drowning his sorrows in women or alcohol. And who could blame him after what I’d done to him? The breakup had put me in a constantly strange mood, one of overall apathy. Without being able to look forward to Griffin’s calls, his letters, his voice, his touch, it was as if I didn’t care about anything at all anymore, didn’t care if the world crumbled around me.

In the midst of it all, though, I’d done something I’d been putting off for years. I’d driven to the nearest tattoo shop and had the sun, moon, and stars tattoo that Isabella had wanted us to get permanently etched onto the inside of my forearm. I’d been “talking” to Izzy more lately and had felt like it was time to finally make that ink a reality.

Doc had just arrived at my house and would be seeing it for the first time.

“I have something to show you,” I said as he sat down at the kitchen table.

“Did you finally get around to painting the Atlantic puffin?”

“No. He’s still on the back burner, as is all painting at the moment.” I rolled up my sleeve and displayed my new skin art. “I got a tattoo.”

His eyes widened. “Oh wow.”

“Isabella and I designed this together. We’d planned to get matching ones. I hadn’t even been able to look at the design, let alone think about getting it, up until recently. I went and had it done a couple of days ago.”

Doc tilted his head to examine it. “It’s very beautiful. Why do you think you were suddenly able to do it?”

“Everything has felt different since letting Griffin go; maybe it’s a side effect of a broken heart. It almost feels like . . . I have nothing to lose anymore.”

“Well, permanently marking your skin with a reminder of Isabella is certainly a huge step toward healing and acceptance. I’m quite proud of you.”

“Yeah. I agree. I’m proud of me, too.” I smiled.

“As for your new outlook after ending things with Griffin, I don’t think we ever know how traumatic events will impact us until they happen.”

“It’s seriously like I just don’t care about anything anymore, like I don’t care if I live or die.”

His expression dampened. “You’re not feeling suicidal at all, right? Because, Luca, you need to tell me if that ever happens.”

“No. Not suicidal. I could never take my own life. I’d be too scared. It’s just a feeling of overall numbness.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No. I haven’t contacted him, and he hasn’t contacted me, either. Pretty sure he might hate me right now.”

Doc’s eyes moved from side to side. He looked a little guilty, like there was something he wasn’t telling me.

“What’s that look?”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“And you know this because?”

“He’s called a few times to check on you. He’s concerned about you.”

“You’ve spoken to Griffin?”

“He never exactly told me not to tell you. Though I was never sure if I should. But I’m telling you now. Seeing as though you’ve drawn the wrong conclusion regarding his current attitude toward you, I felt it was necessary.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“He mainly just wants to know if you’re okay. I tell him what I can without violating our confidentiality.”

I didn’t know whether Griffin contacting Doc made me feel worse or not. I missed him so incredibly much, but at the same time, a part of me hoped he wasn’t hung up on me, that he could move on with his life like he deserved. Yet the bigger part of me was relieved that he didn’t hate me, and that he cared enough to check on me. Even in our absence, Griffin knew me; he knew contacting me would send me into an emotional tailspin.

“Thank you for keeping him posted. I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle.”

“It’s no problem, Luca. I consider Griffin a friend. Of course, my allegiance will always be to you, so if you tell me not to speak to him, I won’t.”

“No. I would never do that.”

A part of me wanted to say, “Tell him I love him.” But I couldn’t.

I don’t know what possessed me to check Archer’s website that night. I knew the tour would be winding down soon. The site listed all the past locations, and I couldn’t help but notice that next to Minneapolis, it said: CANCELED. I looked at the date and realized that it was the day I’d ended things. My heart clenched. I wouldn’t know for sure, but my gut told me that Griffin was too upset to perform. Given that he was the quintessential professional, that really spoke volumes about what I’d done to him.

I noticed that tomorrow night was the Los Angeles concert. I remembered Griffin saying that there would be a live feed available of that show that could be viewed on the band’s website. It was a gift to their fans around the world who couldn’t attend one of their concerts. I knew it would be incredibly painful to watch, but a part of me needed to know he was okay. I needed to hear his voice and see his face, even if it killed me. I looked down at the tattoo on my inner forearm. I could hear Izzy’s words from her yearbook message. “You’re fearless.” That was her impression of me and had nothing to do with the current reality . . . but I could at least try to live up to it occasionally. Watching Griffin tomorrow would be a true test of strength for sure.

The following night, my heart had never beat so fast. I wasn’t ready for this, but I would never be ready. A message on the site prompted me to click on a box to watch the Los Angeles concert live. I must have been early. It said it was set to start at 8:00 Pacific time, so that meant there were still ten minutes or so to go. My hands were clammy and my knees were bobbing up and down.

The wait seemed like forever until the screen suddenly changed. My heart sped up. The show was about to start. I heard the sound of thousands of people screaming as the lighting changed. Then a camera slowly zoomed in on the stage. There was Griffin sitting on a stool with a spotlight on him. He began to sing a cappella, and it immediately gave me chills. My heart came alive at the sound of his crooning. Then the instruments eventually joined in. It was a song I recognized as being one of their more popular tunes.

An enormous amount of pride built in my chest. God, you’re amazing, Griffin. His gritty voice never sounded all that much different from the recorded versions of their songs; he was so good live. I found myself totally glued to the screen, captivated by him, as if I were merely a member of the audience. How I longed to be there. How I longed to feel the energy of that room, the heat, the vibration of the music. How I longed to be watching it all from just backstage, to leap into his arms and tell him how proud I was of him when the show was over. My eyes welled with tears. The longer I watched, the more that inexplicable feeling that had been whispering to me lately grew louder. I had described it to Doc as apathy, not caring whether I was living or dead, but now it seemed I understood exactly what it was. Nothing matters without him. If someone had asked me a year ago what the worst thing that could happen to me was . . . I would have told them it was having a panic attack and dying. If someone asked me today, my answer would be different. The worst thing to happen to me had happened. It was having to live every day knowing Griffin was out there and not being able to experience this life with him. He’d asked me if I believed love was enough, if I would be willing to experience all of the negative things in order to have him in my life. At the time, I truly didn’t know the answer. Now . . . it seemed clear to me. Love is everything. It matters more than fear, more than death. It transcends time. I would literally do anything to have him back in my life, even if it killed me.

Even if it kills me.

That realization was huge.

To truly overcome any fear, you had to be, at least on some level, willing to die for what was on the other side. I was most definitely willing to die for Griffin.

I didn’t know what to do with this revelation.

The beginning notes of “Luca” began to play, and I remembered Griffin telling me how strange it was to sing it after we reunited, since the song had been written out of anger. I was sure it had even more painful feelings associated with it now. The camera focused in on his face, and I noticed him shut his eyes tightly before he began to sing. It was as if he had to gear up for it, to prepare himself to utter those first words and start. I could only imagine what it felt like to have to sing about me over and over when I’d hurt him so much.

He made it through the song, and the crowd went wild. It was evident by how long the applause lasted that “Luca” was their most popular song. He’d always said that, but now I truly got it. He’d often told me that they ended the shows on that one. But it seemed it wasn’t the last song tonight.

Griffin returned to the microphone amid the cheers of the crowd and the chanting of “Cole.”

His voice echoed through the arena. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with one more song tonight . . .”

The crowd responded by erupting into an even louder series of applause and screaming.

“This one is new . . . never before recorded . . . and possibly never to be sung again. It’s called ‘You’re in Me,’ and it’s dedicated to my one true love. You know who you are.”

My eyes watered.

The crowd went wild.

I struggled to listen to the words as he started to sing.

The day you walked away,

You never really left.

You may not know it.

But you’re still here.

You say you’re scared . . .

But I’m scared, too,

To live in this world without you.

You can leave, but you’ll always be here.

In my heart and soul . . . everywhere.

You’re in me.

Till the end,

It will always be you, my friend.

They tell me to move on.

But if I do,

When I look at her, I’ll only see you.

You’re in me.

Till the end,

It will always be you, my friend.

Even though you’ve left scars . . .

You’re still my sun, moon, and stars.

What?

I didn’t hear anything else once he’d sung those words. My sun, moon, and stars. The rest of the song was a blur as I sat there frozen, so overcome with emotion. I’d never once mentioned the sun, moon, and stars tattoo to Griffin. He couldn’t have known anything, and yet those words were somehow in his heart. I was pretty sure it was because on some level, he lived inside mine. Looking down at my tattoo, I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was Izzy sending me the ultimate message of all.