“Completely off the subject, but I’m supposed to be writing vows,” I say to my mom’s headstone, wishing she could really hear me. “But writing’s never been my thing.” I press my pencil to the paper and then I draw a line down it, letting my hands move freely. “Drawing was more of my thing.” Another line and then another. “I’m not sure if you knew that. I know you raised me and everything, but we never really talked, at least about life and stuff. I never even knew you liked to draw until I got a box from your mom with some of your drawings on it. Well, she didn’t exactly send it to me—her lawyer did. She actually passed away. I’m not sure how I feel about that either. I mean, I didn’t know her, yet at the same time it’s sort of sad she’s gone.” I make a few shadings and some curves and jagged lines. When I pull the pencil away, I’ve drawn Micha’s face, half shaded, then below it I write, My light in my dark life. I turn the page and draw another quick image. It’s nothing fancy but that’s okay because fancy’s not the point right now. When I’m finished, I have a picture of him holding his guitar, music notes surrounding him. Below it I write, His mouth warmed my soul. I draw another one and write, God, I feel so loved sometimes I forget how to breathe. Then I start moving the pencil over the paper again, creating a map of our life, the first time we slept together in the same bed, the fence, his car, the concerts, the New Orleans trips, the lake, even the bridge. Not all the lines are perfect, but it’s the little flaws and imperfections that make the story so beautiful. I finish off the last drawing, which is solely of Micha and write, My everything. Then I close the sketchpad and get to my feet, dusting the snow off the back of my jeans, my ass frozen and numb.

I know that if I’m going to turn it in for my final portfolio, I’m going to have to do more work on it, but the start is there, the basis, and I can build on it from there. Besides, starting is always the hardest part and even though I know everything won’t just easily fall into place, at least I know that it’s headed toward a completion.

A potentially wonderful completion.

Chapter 19

Micha

When I return home from tux shopping, without a tux, because apparently there’s nowhere around Star Grove that has them, Ella’s not at the house. My mom tells me she went out on foot somewhere with her sketchbook, which worries me.