Lost in July

epilogue.

They're the reason I met my first and only love. They're the reason I survived after losing him. In that same breath, they're part of the reason I lost him, but their growth has shown me that people can change. People can learn and right their wrongs. I know Collin forgives them, and I know he'd want the best for them despite the pain they caused. Because I know they provided him with so much happiness, too. 

"I should get back out there," Bethany says, tired eyes finding mine. I nod, and she heads back into the chaos of our fundraising event. I rush to find my purse once she's gone. I sit in the corner of this small, beige-colored room and dig through my bag until I find what I'm looking for. The film pictures. 

I lost Collin, but there's so much of his in my life that I will never lose. He's with me every day. I look at the collection of pictures in my hand with a sad smile. Our pictures from Orchard Hills, some outside of the hospital, from the camera he found there. A lot of them are hard to make out because the film was old, but a few were salvaged. 

The first picture is him, an accidental picture, I think. It's just his eyes, brows scrunched, brown orbs filled with confusion. I remember breaking into a sob the first time I saw it, picturing him accidentally flashing a picture right into his eyes. 

The next picture was of me, the one where we went to the laundry room, and found some magazines and ridiculous glasses. I put them on, hung a cigarette out of my mouth, and covered my face with the magazine as I sat on the dryer. 

The next was blurry, but I knew what it was. One night, after the hospital, I snuck over to his house so we could cuddle. All he wanted was a hug and a kiss goodnight (he was embarrassed to admit that to me). Once I got there and we laid together, he snapped a picture, saying he wanted to always remember this moment. 

I put the photos back into my bag as tears filled my eyes. I blink, staring into the lights on the ceiling to try and stop the inevitable. I press my thumb into my wrist, right on top of my film camera tattoo, reminding myself he's always with me. 

-

The next day, I reluctantly celebrated my 21st birthday. Marley refused to let me wallow in misery for yet another milestone, so I allowed her to take me to the bar. 

Bethany and Penny joined us, because, yes, my only friends are my dead boyfriend's mother and my former mental hospital nurse. Oh, and my sister. Friends were overrated anyway, and these were the only people I trusted. 

We went to the bar, Marley flashing a fake ID that actually worked, and we got several rounds of mixed drinks, engaging in the usual small talk. Eventually, Marley pulled me aside, finding a quiet corner of the bar. I finally acknowledged the massive bag in her hand. It had balloons and confetti on it, with pink tissue paper about to fall out, concealing whatever was inside. 

"Should I be worried?" I ask, sipping the last of my Tequila Soda. 

Marley rolls her eyes, shoving the bag into my hands. "No. Open it." 

I pull out some of the tissue paper, slowly revealing what looks like a glass painting. I pull the black frame out and gasp at the site. It's a beautiful glass frame of my rose corsage from Collin, the one he gave me at that stupid formal. I saved the corsage, and it wilted away in my bedroom, but now the wilted petals were delicately pressed on the glass frame, keeping it in place. Underneath it read the words love in a beautiful cursive.

"H-How?" I ask, stuttering. I can't believe I didn't notice the corsage was gone from my bedroom for long enough that Marley made it into a literal painting.

"I snuck in. Don't be mad. I know a guy who's good with this stuff," she hardly explains, but I don't care. It's beautiful, and I love it. I pull her into a tight hug and tell her how much I love her, all while trying not to cry. 

I glance at the rose; its wilted yet still uniquely beautiful petals remind me of the boy I once had. The boy whose smile could power the entire city and whose words motivated even the darkest souls. My soul. He was wilting, but he never failed to share his beauty. 

The rose is Collin. 

Somehow, Collin has become everything. He's gone, yet his presence keeps me fighting. Everything reminds me of him. I see him in all the brightest places, I feel him in my darkest moments, and I talk to him when no one else will listen. 

He's gone, but he's here. 

He's gone until I can see him again. 

Until then, I keep moving. For him. 

"You okay?" Marley asks, her hand gently rubbing circles on my back. I sit up, wiping a tear, and carefully putting the painting away. 

"I'm perfect. Next drinks on me!"