Chapter 26.

Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers

Dear Harry,

I find myself finding you in my thoughts more than I believe I ever intended. If I had known more thoroughly just how much I'd learn to care for you when I first heard your voice, I would have been much too startled and would have likely run away. It's something I can't put words to, the things us people do when someone has a hand in our fate and pushes us to whatever it is that we need the most. I'm not the kind of person to invite strangers into my house, though I take it you might be.

To Darby Anna Eden,

I know you hate when I use all of your names but desperate times call for desperate measures. I have no clue as to how else I should start this, so I'll start by saying very simply that you healed me and I ruined this.

I know you'll think that was cliché, I feel like it's the only way to reach you for some reason. I also don't really know how to go about saying this. I miss you? I know that is horrible. This letter will probably never get to you anyways, there's no way I'll let it. I should say that I'm sorry before I miss you. I'm sorry doesn't seem to be enough, and I know only you could find the words to make it powerful enough.

I'm not sure my typical simplicity will reach you, Darby, though this letter won't either, so I guess I can say whatever I'd like, huh. It is quite the torture method but I was told to write letters to come to understanding. I think the only thing I've come to find is that I have no capability of it. I should get back to my point now.

I should never have rushed you. That was sick of me, I let it take over me until I was weak next to my own selfishness.

The silence flipped to devastating much quicker than I wished it to. And my thoughts brought it upon us all.

"You're going to leave, aren't you." I said, quite flagrantly. His lack of an answer made me feel oddly sick, to a pit of my stomach that I'd never been this aware of. The waves had lost their moon reflection, it was only saltwater now. And I didn't dare look up at the stars, worried past my sickness that I'd find fault in them as well.

"We decided to drop it as a surprise. No advertising leading up to it and such. It ended up giving us a lot more time and we could drop the album earlier-" He seemed ashamed?

It was hard to say anything, I was already feeling like such a small part of his life. It was absurdly selfish of me.

I had a history with feeling small, my personality and my downfalls went hand in hand. This should be no new news to me, this habit of wrecking moods and asking thoughtless questions found plenty of ways to sneak into my words.

"Darby-" He had a history of breaking silences, once that had no need of being broken. It was like he despised them, the comfort that they brought me and the space to breathe... he only felt more trapped. I needed to think through my words. He needed to get them out. "You don't have to say anything. Don't justify your... your job. It's your job."

I stared at disgustingly bland details in the sand below me. I was sick of them, the one broken shell and the circle around it I kept drawing with my finger. I tried to entertain myself with them because nowhere in me could I find whatever I needed to lift up my head. "I know you want to ask, but you won't. I wish I knew what was going to happen, Darby, I just don't think-"

Just like that, everything went bland. "You don't..." I mumbled. I don't think he heard me. "I just don't think that it's something we can predict."

I nodded as my only answer. I lifted my head, managing to lay in on my propped up knees. I faced him, but watching him look away from me was enough to lose a piece of my composure. I almost lost it all. It was close. I pulled together after a lost breath and one tear. It wasn't small enough to go unnoticed. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"... Are you?" I asked directly back to him. If he was... then I guess that's the answer. He's supposed to be that one stranger that you meet... a relationship you develop... one that doesn't end but it doesn't continue. You always remember those and how they change you, though. So maybe someday—

"I don't want to think about it, okay?"

I spoke almost immediately after that. "Are you allowed to tell me about the album? Are you excited?" I distracted the both of us. My smile felt so forced, but I didn't notice it then. And my nose was suddenly stuffy then, too. I remember that.

"... I am. It's about you."

"Why are you so open about everything." I mumbled again, nearly blurting it out. He heard this time. I realized and buried my eyes into my palms. "God... does it not scare you??!"

He had a hard time putting out the words. I started to smell his sweet scene stronger, he moved himself just slightly closer to me. Closer and closer. It was like a paradoxical horror film. They're all hiding just around the corner, a murderer psychopath is getting closer and closer and they can only await their impending death. His intention is not this, but the feeling is just the same. I'm merely awaiting the emotional breakage that'll come with his leaving, and being even just that vulnerable is my natural worst nightmare.

"I have to be open... it's the only way I can write songs, it's the only way I can say what I'm feeling, I'd get nowhere if I couldn't—" And at all the same times, I was beating myself up for my selfishness, he was going through it too and I was having such a hard time listening to him because my brain was running too fast.

"I'm sorry. I can't." I whispered. "And I'm supposed to write novels. I can't even find my vulnerability in that."

I was pulled down to his chest, wrapped in arms that I'd already felt had been gone for too long. "I've seen it. Stop telling yourself that." He was nearly whimpering, crying so quietly that I could only tell from his quickened unsteady breathing.

I easily turned, laying my head down on his lap and looking up at his face. The stars were there as normal, they wouldn't ever leave me. "Even if there are clouds... there are still stars behind them. Did you know that?" I let tears leak at the sides of my eyes, pooling around my ears and neck.

His fell down to me, and his hand found them on my cheek and wiped them away. It was an obvious statement, but it meant a lot more as a reminder. He nodded, "Yes they are." He was squinting his eyes together, pushing out the tears that blurred his sight.

"The sun, Darby..." "The sun, what?"

"It's always there too. It never goes away." He spoke with an innocent and bittersweet excitement.

I giggled, "And even when the sun can't tell you how she feels, you can still feel it." I smiled in my sadness. It was nice. "Or at least she hopes you can."

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