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Strong enough
To destroy me
Untouchable beauty
I wish
In a way
That you were a fantasy
My heart swells in my chest, and fresh tears blur my vision. I can almost hear his rich voice speaking these words. I remember the brush of his hand as he lifted a butterfly out of my hair and explained chaos theory, blue wings fluttering on his fingertip, matching the color of his eyes. In my memory, I hear no words—I just see the shape of his lips moving. Lips I kissed before he left, lips that moved in a dance with mine for a moment so perfect I can hardly believe it happened at all. Did I do that right? I whispered. Perfectly, he replied, his forehead touching mine.
“Oh, Adam,” I rasp, my voice caught in the tears. “I miss you so much.”
I turn the page to find one last entry in the book.
Orca,
I wish a world existed (in another universe, maybe) where only we two lived. It would be a world with nothing but ocean and this one little island. I wish the “Otherworld” didn’t exist, not so that you didn’t long to see it—but so that I didn’t have to belong there. I don’t belong there. I belong with you. And you don’t belong there, either. We’re not made for this world, you and I. We’re made for each other.
Orca, I’ve fallen in love with you. I can’t remember when I started to feel this way about you. I was in over my head before I knew it had begun. And now, I never want to leave you. I want to wake each morning to the sound of your voice; I want to hear every idea you have about philosophy and science and life. I want to be with you every day, every hour, every minute.
I know we can’t. I know there’s the matter of your father and your life on the island. The last thing I want to do is ruin that. But I have to tell you the truth. I have to tell you what a beautiful and unique person you are. Your innocence inspires me to make this world a better place… if only a small corner of it, just for you. I almost don’t want you to see the Otherworld, because it is so flawed and polluted, and you deserve a perfect world. Because you are perfection itself.
I, on the other hand, am so far from perfect. It’s probably a good thing that we can’t be together. If we were, I would feel so unworthy of your goodness, your grace, your purity of spirit. I cherish those things about you—and so, like the moral scientist, I must leave you wild and free, where you belong… however much I may want to bring you into my world and make you my own.
I love you, Orca Monroe.
And that’s why I’m letting you go.
By the time I’ve finished reading, hot tears have slipped off my cheeks and dropped onto the page, smudging some of the words.
This is why he gave me his journal.
This is his last goodbye.
“No,” I gasp, a broken whisper. I touch my fingertips to the final line he wrote.
Don’t let me go, Adam.
Don’t go, Adam.
Don’t.
The pain in my chest has spread everywhere, like an infection in my bones. From my fingertips to my toes, I miss him. I want him. I need him.
Why does love have to hurt so much? When it seems so simple, it’s actually the most complicated. I can’t choose between him and Papa.
Love is impossible.
A minefield of roses.
Leaving the journal spread open on my bed, I return to the window, squinting past my tears and the darkness to the flickers of light in the distance.
Adam is out there, somewhere in the Otherworld.
And I’m stuck here, in my world.
