Days bled into weeks, bled into months, and before I knew it, it had been a year since Grandma passed. A year off to work had become another year to take care of Grandma had become two years tinged with grief and confusion, swimming in an endless, murky sea. Sludge and dirt. Oil spill damage clinging desperately to my wings. Severing any chance I had at flight.
Maybe that's why I could never give you a place to fly to.
"Chickadee, if you could take flight, where would you go?"
"Wherever Grandma is."
Harry was my rock for what felt like forever; my anchor. Enough to keep my feet planted in the soil and my head attached to my neck. Without him, I'm not sure where I would've ended up - somewhere with a broken wing and a bruised heart. He woke me up gently every morning with a sprinkling of kisses dashed on my hairline, the warmth of his body melting around my ice sculpture.
Everything just felt cold. Distant and dull and cold. Like I was trudging through the motions in the middle of a blizzard. I'd go to work, put on a brave face with the kids, and come back to Harry's, only to dissolve into the couch, my mind empty and full at the same time. Thoughts screaming, ricocheting around in my brain, but the words vanishing into thin air. Harry was always home before me, with water, a blanket, a snack, a kiss. Anything he could do in a desperate attempt to fill me back up. To flood wind under my wings. To drown me in love.
Every single night ended with a kiss to my cheek and a palm cradling my face. A whisper of, "forever and always," like a breath of air dusting over my skin.
Forever and always.
Sometimes it felt like the pain was what was going to be forever and always.
...Maybe it will be.
Those months turned into a vacant blur, void of feelings, void of color, void of much of anything. I refused the birds; turned my back on them entirely. Only sitting at the window to pine for a single flash of red feathers that rarely came. But when they did...god when they did. They triggered the dam opening up, letting the flood waters unleash their wrath. One glimpse of a cardinal and I was inconsolable, wailing and fisting at pillows, or the couch, or Harry's chest. Pitiful, painful little hits - just enough movement to keep my entire body from locking up.
"Chickadee, shh, I'm right here, I've got you." Harry soothed, holding my body close, my arms pressed firmly against him.
I felt like a wounded animal, trapped and scared. The gentle touch was nearly searing, a strange mix of comfort and pain that had me wanting to both soften into it and fight against it. I couldn't help but let out a strangled cry that only made me feel even more raw, like every last instinct was screaming for survival. My fists kneaded against Harry's abdomen, trying desperately to feel something real.
"Dove," he pulled away, a gust of air chilling my cheek as it was left exposed, "You've gotta calm down for me, okay? You're scarin' me."
A pathetic whimper poured from my lips, the rest of my body falling loose as Harry reached down to grab onto my hands, digging into my clenched fists to intertwine our fingers together instead.
I'm not sure how you managed to bring me back down to earth every single time. No matter how far in the galaxy I drifted, you were always able to reel me back in.
Thank you for it. And by 'it', I mean all of it.
Harry had guided me into his room once my limbs were able to move, a hand firmly magnetized to the small of my back. He laid down first, motioning me into bed beside him. And, of course, I was quick to obey, crawling towards the tidal wave of cotton and pine and Harry.
With my head tucked up under his arm, Harry petted down my back, "Close your eyes, chickie, take a little nap. I'll be right here. Always gonna be right here."
In the middle of winter, I applied. Secretly, just like when I applied to Southern Maine. I hid in the dining room in your seat against the wall and leaned back in the chair to add to the divots pushing against the green paint.
You were in the shower when I sent the application - it was after work and you were covered in tree sap and slushy snow, rushing past me with a kiss to my temple before dipping underneath the shower stream. Meanwhile, I sent in a college application. A big college application. One I was actually scared to tell you about. For good reason.
The University of Florida.
Florida.
1,488.6 miles away, Florida.
22 hour and 49 minute drive, Florida.
I needed to get away. I knew I needed to get away, but the more time I spent haunted by the reminder that Grandma was fucking dead, the more clear it became. Florida was a whim - paying homage to that first "if you take flight?" in some ways.
The University of Florida had a wildlife biology and conservation science major that screamed my name. Billboard. Broadway lights. Singing a siren song to lure me in. I knew Harry would be excited about the major, but I wasn't sure how excited he would be at the prospect of me moving to Florida.
So, I tucked it away. My own secret to mull over, hidden behind lock and key. Padlocked gate, controlled access. Not even Harry's sweet, bright eyes could break me down.
Florida.
Something about it just seemed so...new. So far away from Maine; from the reminders of cuckoo's nests and raven caws. From hallway chirps and solemn owl cries. I wouldn't turn the corner in the grocery aisle and swear that I saw a flash of Grandma. I wouldn't hear someone laugh as I walked past and feel like a captive animal on display.
I didn't want to leave you. That was the last thing I wanted to do. But I was becoming too big for the nest - or, rather, the nest was becoming too mutilated to call home anymore. Cat scratch torn to shreds. It was no longer a home for me, I was gripping tightly to branches at night to hold me through until the morning. I was wrapping my wings around myself to keep warm.
Everything I knew in Maine was painful - high school, and my parents, and Grandma's death. You were the sole ounce of light, Harry. The one lasting ray, extending to touch my skin; to graze a path down the side of my cheek and cradle it in your palm. You are warm and you are brilliant and the very last thing I wanted to do was to leave you. Please know that.
Within months, a letter came through the mail addressed to Miss Dove Finch from The University of Florida. My heart stopped in my chest; stalled and stopped and seized up. Residual oxygen scraped the walls of my lungs; anxious, jagged air. I took the letter from the pile and ran - sitting on the orange square tile of the bathroom right below the sink with the door firmly locked, water running ever so slightly to drown out the sound of ripping paper.
"We are pleased to inform..."
Code Blue. Cardiac arrest.
That's all I needed to read. I got in.
I got in.
I wondered, for a while, if you had heard me all along. The squeal that peeled out from between my lips. The inaudible sound of my teeth trapping my knuckle to muffle any noises of excitement. The rapid tip-tap of my socked feet against the tile. The static shocks sparking in the air. The flip of my stomach. The pound of my heart.
You always knew me better than I knew myself.
So I shouldn't have been surprised.
The knock on the door silenced the whirlpool swirling mindlessly through my brain. Stopped the swirl and promptly pulled the drain so I could watch as the thoughts snuck out of the sink; snuck out of my brain. I could feel his essence bleeding through the wood of the door.
"Chickadee, everything okay in there?" Harry's voice was filled with so much concern I nearly felt guilty.
I cleared my throat, words feeling foreign to my tongue, "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Promise?"
I nodded, despite the fact that he couldn't see through the door, "Promise."
Harry rapped his fingers against the wooden barrier with a gentle sigh, "Alright, I love you."
"Forever and always, green bean."
I don't know how long I sat in the bathroom for, rereading the letter over and over and over. Like my new favorite song. I couldn't get enough of the words; of the Shakespearen prose of "Dove Finch has been accepted into our program." Majestic odysseys, or heart-wrenching tragic romance, or self-discovery. Some combination of all of the written beauty in the world and sheer, utter acceptance.
Maybe three minutes, maybe three hours later, I opened the door, flinching at the creak of the hinges.
"Green bean, can I talk to you?" I padded into the living room, letter crumbled up slightly in my grip. Like babies before they learn how to let go.
I don't know if I've ever learned how to let go.
Harry's eyebrows shot up, raising well above the back cover of the book in his hand, "Of course, chickie, what's going on?" as he spoke, he closed the novel, setting it beside him and running a finger across the illustrations on the front cover. I watched his finger dance across the ridges of the image, desperate to put off the conversation I gave the beginning to.
"If you could take flight, where would you go?"
He smiled, I could tell by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled alone, "Depends on where you'd go."
"Florida." I murmured. "So, I got mail today..." my words trailed off at the end. Running low on breadcrumbs to mark our way back home.
Harry nodded, slowly, an ever so slight dimple flexing against his cheek. His smile put one on my own face - the excitement too loud in my belly to settle down.
That's when I should've known that you knew it was something big.
"I-" my voice caught in my throat, but I could feel the fireworks exploding from my cheeks, "Green bean... Harry, I got into school."
The whites of his eyes shone and I watched as his jaw physically dropped. Barbells weighing heavy. Atlas, holding the globe. Confusion swam in the green, "What?" He jolted up off of the couch, toe-to-toe with me.
"I, uh," I got sheepish, "I applied to a school...in Florida...and I got in."
"Dove, what?"
I froze, scared of his reaction. Like we were standing on the highest peak of a mountain - barely enough room for one pair of feet, let alone two.
"Are...are you mad?" My voice became chirpy. Small and timid and squeaky. Shy. Scared.
His eyebrows furrowed together, mouth still agape, before shaking his head over and over and over, "Never. I'm...speechless? You got into a school in Florida? Why didn't you tell me?"
I couldn't tell you the real reason.
I couldn't tell you that I needed to get away. I couldn't tell you that I had to spread my wings. Fly. See new scenery. Explore and breathe. Find who I was supposed to be. Free myself.
Maine was a locked cage, scissors at every turn waiting to clip my wings. If I stayed any longer, I might've lost my ability to fly at all.
But I couldn't tell you that. I didn't have the courage. I didn't have the heart to break yours. You would've interpreted it differently - that I needed space from you, that I wanted to get away from you. That was the furthest from the truth, I hope you can believe me. I'm sure it's hard to, now.
"I didn't really try to apply, I think I was drunk and sent in an application or something."
I knew he didn't believe the lie, but he didn't push it.
Instead - "I'm so proud of you, chickadee" and a hug, a lift, a spin.
I don't know how I ever deserved your gentle, easy love. Your full, screaming heart. Your explosive compassion, your calm passion, your genuine...everything. No matter how many mistakes I made, you always had enough forgiveness. No matter how many mistakes I made, you never let me think they were mistakes.
I wonder if you still have forgiveness for me, now.
Harry's fingertips painted strokes of brilliant color against my skin, coarse paintbrush hairs tickling goosebumps to rise. Swarming heat building in the bottom of my belly with every lingering touch; every gentle, featherlight tracing of his lips against my cheek, my neck, my collarbone, my shoulder.
"Chickie, I'm so proud of you, my beautiful genius." he muttered into my neck, nipping lightly at the skin to pull a gasp from me.
I leaned my body into his, my hand finding a home on his shoulder, "Mmm, thank you."
Hot air, drawing droplets of condensation at the curve of my shoulder, "Can we celebrate?"
My stomach tumbled a series of cartwheels, stuck the landing, and felt the roar of applause. I nodded, my body melting back against him.
Wordlessly, Harry shifted out from behind me, taking my hand and blindly guiding us towards his bedroom.
He stripped us both of our clothes, movements slow. Methodical. Like they meant something. Like they knew our trajectory was about to take a spin in mid-air. But neither of us paid any mind, both of our minds hungry, and bodies hungrier.
Harry guided me onto the bed, curled into his body. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest press against my back and I craned my neck to connect our lips. His kisses felt similar - slow, and meaningful, and...different, somehow. Maybe timid, maybe unsure, maybe fucking petrified. But full of so much love that nothing else mattered.
"Mmm, you're so soft, I love you so damn much." His fingertips traced along my sides, following each rolling path of curves. Appalachian Trail. An endless journey of real, solid nature. Like my body was all earth.
"I love you," I whispered against Harry's lips as he hiked my thigh up against his own.
I could feel him, hard and warm, brushing through the arousal gathered between my legs. The movement pulled a gentle gasp from my lungs, my hips pushing backwards with a mind of their own.
"Please," before the word was fully in the air, Harry's lips were on mine and his tip nudged at my entrance.
With a slight rock forward, he slid into me, groaning against my hair and clawing at my sides, my stomach, my thighs. Wherever his hands could grip at skin.
We were both quiet as our hips rolled together, both in shock and full of bliss and warmth. Letting instinct drive our bodies. Instinct in the way Harry pulled back, slow and even, letting me feel every inch of his skin, hot and pulsing and real, as it glided out. Instinct in the way he thrusted forward, filling me up in the most carnal, raw way. Skin against skin. Hands squeezing hands. Instinct in the way he licked at my bottom lip; in the way our lips tried, and failed, to kiss through the pleasure. Instinct in the deep moans unlodging from somewhere in my chest; in the whispered I love you's, in the unspoken I love you's, in the moaned I love you's, in the shouted I love you's.
Harry muttered dirty thoughts, dirty praises, into the bedroom on a loop, words consistent between breaths. "So tight. Bet you feel me so deep, hmm? So good. Good girl. All for me. I know, chickie, it feels so good, doesn't it? Love feelin' you. Stretching you out real nice, yeah? Perfect girl. Wanna make you feel this good all the time. Forever and always, Dove. I love you, I love you, I love you."
We peaked at the same, blissful moment, the twitch of Harry inside of me as he thrust in deep, triggering my own release. I felt myself pulse around him as he spilled into me, incoherent murmurs laced with whimpers doted into the back of my neck.
Silence filled the room, gentle pants breaking the stillness as Harry stayed buried inside of me, arms wrapped tightly around my stomach, holding me so close our skin could have molded together.
"'M so proud of you, chickadee. You amaze me."
My parents were excited that I was finally going to school, but I could tell deep down they were just as disappointed as ever that I wasn't staying in Maine. That I wasn't going to either of their alma maters. Because they never wanted me to fly; they wanted me to follow the pack. Not a bird, but a wolf. Follow the alpha; run with the pack. They didn't see my wings. Didn't see the innate desire to fly.
But I was going to Florida - that much was certain. So we spent the spring and summer as we always had, loving on one another in between the cracks of work. Fulfilling time and spirit with each other. You'd go out with your work friends once, maybe twice a week, always returning home to wrap your arms tight around my body. Like every last second required my skin kissing yours.
Time didn't stop for us, although, I don't know why I expected it to. All too quickly it was August and we were counting down the days until I left. I'm not sure if I was more nervous or excited those days - just waiting until August 14th. Time bouncing between slow motion and double speed.
I was ready. My feathers were itching for the feeling of the wind and the sky. I needed to jump out of the nest - see if my wings would catch flight or not. I needed to. And I was excited to. But goddamn was I scared. Scared of crashing into the earth, plummeting nosedive into grass and dirt. I was scared of leaving you - of your charm and kindness drawing moths to the flame. I'd never been on my own. Truly, genuinely on my own.
I was scared of failing. Of messing up. Of high school's history repeating itself. I didn't know what I would find in Florida; if I'd still be the weird bird girl or if my people were living in the walls of those academic buildings. I knew I could still find cardinals, so I knew I wouldn't be completely alone. But, without you, I wasn't sure how to make friends. How to be somebody people liked. Somebody that people wanted to be around.
So, I was both terrified and ecstatic. Dancing around patches of lava in the living room; carefree and cautious. A consistent paradox.
August 12th brought tears. Especially as we sent the last box through the mail to be shipped down to my dorm room 1,488.6 miles away. Painful tears; scared tears. Tears of emotion.
"I- I'm just scared, I want you to come with me," I blubbered into Harry's shirt as I curled up into his chest as close as I could get.
He shifted on the floor, his back leant up against the couch inside of our blanket fort, while one hand ran through my hair. Old Disney movies mumbled in the background throughout the afternoon, and a bowl of popcorn rested near the entrance of the fort, never having the opportunity to get too empty before one of us was filling it right back up.
Harry had insisted that we spend those days quiet and together, soaking up enough of each other to last us until he was planning to visit in October. And, so, after sending the rest of my belongings away, we went back to his apartment and promptly built a fort in the living room. We'd already dove into one another the moment our bodies settled into the blankets and I knew in that moment that I would be headed to Florida achy, with the feeling of Harry embedded deep in my bones.
"I know, chickie, I know. Shhh, shhh." Harry cooed, scattering kisses like flower seeds into my hair.
I choked on my words, tears bleeding a spot into his shirt, "Like, what if- what if I'm all alone? And you're not there? I- I don't want- I can't- I don't want that. I want you. Harry, please. Will you come with me? Please, please, please. I'm scared. Please." I pleaded, gripping tightly to the warm cotton.
Harry hummed, the rumbles of his chest immediately spreading ounces of peace into my fragile, shaking body. Detonating bomb. Harry was working against the clock to stop the explosion. He ran his fingers below my shirt and against my back, tracing mindless shapes into my skin. Murmuring quiet reassurances and cradling my cheek against his shoulder.
"I'm just a phone call away. You know I'm on the next flight the second you need me, sweet Dove. Shhhh, take a breath, angel girl. Get too worked up and you'll miss the next round of popcorn."
A snotty laugh left me, and I hid into the crook of Harry's neck, muttering, "I just don't want to go without you."
"Mmm," he rocked us back and forth ever so slightly, "I don't want to be without you, either, baby, but I want you to go so bad."
I've said it already - your generosity has astounded me since day one, Harry. I felt like my heart was being torn out of my body, drowned in gasoline, and set to burn. The concept of leaving you in Maine while I went to Florida nearly made me physically ill. And, yet, the whole time, you were nothing but proud of me. Honest. But encouraging. You wanted this for me. No matter what it meant for the life the two of us had gotten used to, you wanted me to go.
August 14th.
August 14th.
The day everything was set to change, no?
We didn't know it at the time, but we probably could have predicted it. Predictable. Always predictable.
My flight was scheduled for 9:30 am. We woke up at 5 in the morning. Built-in time for love and touch and warmth and contentment. My worn-out body melting liquid into Harry's. Pliable and dreamy and weightless. The burn in my thighs and the pit of my stomach, both exhausting and invigorating. We gave ourselves time to hold onto each other; my face nuzzled into his chest, while his palms soothed up and down the length of my arms. Enough time to fall apart together more than once, making every last second count towards something bigger than us. Towards a bigger love; a grander story. Something not even words could touch.
And then, it was 8:15 and we were piling into Harry's car to the airport. Some Ed Sheeran song played through the radio and we sang at the top of our lungs, windows rolled down and summer air tinged with slight remnants of the ocean breeze swelling between us. Lyric after lyric poured into the space, even after Ed finished and the next song started. My heart felt fragmented, but singing with Harry was enough of a bandage to keep me together until the flight.
He dropped me off at security, green eyes glossy, and I poked at his side, muttering, "glazed donut," even though I knew that mine looked the same.
The side of his lip lifted up slightly into a bittersweet smile, half-genuine, half-painful.
"I love you, my chickadee," Harry choked out, pulling me in by my shoulders, "Forever and always. I love you so fucking much."
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them away desperately. I knew that if I started crying I would never stop. Niagara Falls.
"I love you, too. Forever and always."
"You're gonna do so good. I can't wait to visit." He spoke as if we were trapped in a bubble, quiet and gentle, but full of conviction.
"Just eight weeks," I murmured back, letting my cheeks soak up the feeling of his palms cupped around them.
"Eight. I'm so proud of you, Dove. Go kick ass. I'm so proud of you. Grandma is, too."
The mention of Grandma sent a fault line severing through my heart while simultaneously filling up the cracks with sunshine warmth. As if she was in my bones; her radiant light zapping through my body.
With two kisses, turned six, and three long hugs, I wrapped my fingers around the handle of my suitcase like a life raft and headed towards the security gate.
The plane was buzzing, but quiet, in that weird way that all planes are. I remember that electric energy sparking against my skin. I think it was excitement, despite the dried-up tears that had caked across the tops of my cheeks.
I had a moment on the plane, as we rolled to the runway, where all of my hesitation melted away into nothingness. It didn't hit me why until later. But, as we started our journey, I was filled with peace, and gentle vibrating anticipation. Anticipation of what was to come; anticipation of something greater than I'd always known. I think some piece of me knew what was waiting for me in Florida - and maybe that's why I was so...ready. So unequivocally ready, I would have walked up to the pilot and steered the plane myself.
And, then, we took off. Bouncing turbulence, closed off ears, the tangible awareness of gravity. I felt weightless; defeating the gravity, counteracting it. My skin felt itchy, but not in a bad way. Like all of my life had been leading up to this very moment, row F, seat 1, forehead pressed up against the window and creating a ring of fog with each exhale.
Traveling through the air, watching the clouds roll past from above. My wings were open wide, sucking up every ounce of sky and wind and freedom. Goosebumps littered across my skin and my jaw ached from the smile permanently drawn across my cheeks. I wasn't sure where I was going; where I would end up. But, in that moment it really didn't matter. In that moment nothing really mattered.
Because I was finally flying.