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HERO

WE STUMBLE THROUGH A quiet dinner.

The Indian restaurant is her favorite place in Seattle, but it's too crowded for this conversation.

Making small talk is nearly impossible.

What the hell do you say when you're thinking baby, I need you to know that I still love you. That I'm always going to love you. That whatever you tell me about your suicide attempt and recovery is only going to make me love you more?

Discussing the weather doesn't cut it.

But, fuck, it feels good just being near her.

It always does.

After we finish, Josephine leads the way. "I know a good place to talk." She intertwines her fingers with mine. "I feel like I have to set the scene."

She doesn't. She can explain in a dive bar or an airplane or a fast food bathroom.

It doesn't matter.

As long as she's here.

Letting me in.

That's all I want. All I've ever wanted.

Her heart.

That openness. Honesty. Trust.

It's late enough the downtown streets are quiet. But it's still light. The sky is a beautiful soft blue.

Sunlight bounces off the big glass buildings.

Casts the city in a heavenly glow.

Or maybe that's just how I see her.

She's always going to be my angel.

"You never finished your story." I squeeze her hand.

She looks to the ground. "I don't know what else to say."

Everything. I want every detail. Even the ones that hurt. "You agreed to go into treatment in Seattle."

She nods. "It seemed like the best option." Her baby blues fill with guilt as she looks to me. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I should have told you. Celeste begged me to do it. For months. One of my therapists had to call her and ask her to stop."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She was pissed at me for a while. For doing that. For being willing to leave her. But, eventually she understood. Better than I did even. She told me I'd never forgive myself until I told you."

"Was she right?"

"Yeah. But... I'm not sure if I have. Forgiven myself."

"You must have been in so much pain, baby."

She blinks and a tear catches on her lashes. "Sorry. I... I'm not used to talking about this." She stops at a streetlight.

I wrap my arms around her. Pull her closer. "Don't be."

"You still like it when I cry."

"Yeah."

She buries her head in my chest. "My therapist said that depression is a lot like grief, only there's no endpoint. No cause. Maybe that makes it easier to understand. I don't want to take anything away from you. To say I had it worse--"

"I know." I bring my hand to her hair. Undo the elastic band holding her ponytail. Run my fingers through her hair.

She exhales into my chest. "You used to do that all the time."

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