I even have the nerve to allow myself to bust out some books of poetry and look for passages that speak to me. Not so I can try to figure out what they mean for my future (that was driving me crazy), but so I can experience what they make me feel right now. And because I love the act of doing it. Come to think of it, I’ve always loved hunting through pages and writing my favorite passages down in my prettiest handwriting.

From Tracy K. Smith’s Life on Mars, I write:

everything

That ever was still is, somewhere

Something about the passage makes me feel like I’m okay. Like everything will be okay. I draw a speech bubble around the passage, across three squares in the middle of the page, and listen. I hear a faint ring. Dang, what does that mean? Wait, I’m trippin’. That’s my phone.

I get up and run down the hall to the living room, but it stops ringing before I get there. I grab my phone off the sofa and see a missed call from Rex. I want to roll my eyes, but before I can, my heart starts spinning then leaping then going still like it doesn’t know what to do with itself.

A text from him pops up: Talked to Cole. Sorry about your dad. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been going through. Sorry I didn’t listen. I should’ve listened. I hope you can forgive me. And I hope you’re okay. You don’t have to call me back. I just wanted you to know how sorry I am

With his words floating around inside me, tears flood my eyes. I read his text ten more times, and a million thoughts rush in.

Does his apology mean that he wants to get back with me? If so, what was that whole you-don’t-have-to call-me-back business? Is he trying to play games? Maybe not, but he’s still messed up. But what do I really know? I know he loved me. I know I didn’t really give him a fair chance. I didn’t even tell him anything going on with me and expected him to understand. That’s still no excuse for what he did. But he said he’s sorry. I wonder if he still loves me. Is love enough?

All this thinking about Rex is taking me far, far away from myself. And after finally being so close, I want to hold on tight for a little longer. I want to go back to my bare room, sit on my bed, and listen for the words to go in my speech bubble. And afterward, hunt for more images from magazines. Oooo, maybe some lava or a blazing blue fire or something fiery red or maybe even something beige. I’ll know it when I see it.