Grandpa was by the fountain at the park center, playing cards with his friends, when Susie May, my grandma, came walking by with her many “followers.”
Susie May was the most wanted girl in school. The boys all fawned over her and the girls yearned to be her. She knew nothing of misfortune. She was never rejected, or played, or hurt, or abandoned. Those were only things she did to others, and boy, did she have fun doing them.
She slipped off the studded leather jacket one of the “cool” boys had given her and said to my grandpa, “My, it’s hot.” She batted her eyelashes in such a way that my grandpa knew she wasn’t just talking about the weather.
Of course, my grandpa was no different than any other boy there. He liked Susie May. He would do anything to go steady with her. If she flirted with him, or showed any level of interest, he’d move on it and flaunt her favoritism like a badge of honor.
He opened his mouth to say something flirty to her when a girl with pale blue eyes and an angel’s face came pedaling down the walkway. She was wearing a baby-blue dress and matching ribbons in her caramel-brown curls. When she saw him in her periphery, she smiled the brightest smile he’d ever seen. But she didn’t stop, like most girls would of. She kept on, not missing a step in her pedaling.
He stared after her, too lost in her pretty face to say a word to Susie May. Who was she? He’d never seen a girl like her before.
“If you’ll excuse me,” My grandpa said. Susie May and all their friends turned to stare as he dashed down the walkway, desperately trying to find this mystery girl.
He found her by his favorite tree—a Weeping Willow he named Breeze. She was sitting in the grass with the blue skirt of her dress spread all around her, scribbling something into a red leatherback notebook. She didn’t look up from her notebook once, she was so intent on what she was doing.
My grandpa approached her. “Hello there,” He said. She looked up at him with her striking eyes and smiled at him again. His heart skipped a beat.
“Hello,” She replied with a soft British accent.
“My name is Henry James,” He said, smoothing his palms nervously against his jeans.
She gazed up at him sweetly. “Nice to meet you Henry,” She grinned. “I’m Lydia Grace. But you can call me Lyddie, if you’d like.”
“Lydia Grace?” He repeated, taking a seat beside her. She laid her notebook face-down on her lap and turned to look at him.
“Yes,” She chuckled, her pretty blue eyes darting from his face down to her hands.
“That’s a nice name,” He said. “Much too nice to shorten, don’t you think?”
She blushed. “Oh, I don’t know. Do you think so? I’ve never really given it much thought.”
“I do,” He said with a smile. “So as long as you don’t mind, I’ll call you Lydia Grace.”
She laughed and nodded. “If it pleases you.”
He watched the way she self-consciously traced the knob of her wrist-bone with her thin fingers. She stared back up at him through her long, thick lashes. He knotted his fingers together so she wouldn’t see how they were shaking. Never had a girl made him so nervous. He was used to feeling calm, cool, and collected. But Lydia Grace made him feel like a fish out of water. She was just—different.
“Now I think you should get acquainted with my tree,” He told her.
She cocked her head in confusion. “Your tree?”
My grandpa put his hand on the Weeping Willow’s trunk and nodded. “Yes, this one right here. Her name’s Breeze.”
“Breeze?” She laughed again. “Well, that’s a fitting name for a Weeping Willow.”
“Right?” My grandpa exclaimed. “All my friends think I’m crazy.”
Lydia Grace tucked a stray curl behind her ear and said, “For naming a tree?” She smiled and shook her head. “Then they would have me admitted to an insane asylum.”
“Why do you say that?”
She looked at his questioning eyes and let out a hardy laugh. “Ah, well. You see that cloud over there?”
He looked to where she pointed and nodded.
“You see how that cloud looks a bit like a schoolgirl and the one floating next to her kind of looks like a dreamy-eyed boy?”
He nodded again.
She flipped her notebook face-front. There, on the yellowed pages, were tiny letters crammed in every space, and pictures of a sky filled with people and animals. Looking at those pages was like looking at another world.
“Well, I pretend the clouds are people sometimes,” Lydia Grace explained. “And then, as I watch them float by, I make up stories for those people. Then I write the stories down and illustrate.”
My grandpa reached out to touch the paper. “These are amazing,” he whispered, tracing one of her drawings with his finger. “May I?”
She nodded, and he lifted the notebook from her lap, brushing her knee in the process. Her cheeks turned pink at his touch. But she didn’t flinch away from him. In fact, she moved a little closer.
As he read her work, he glanced up at the sky. “So that cloud’s name is Jane?”
“Yeah, and the schoolboy cloud is Willy,” She replied, craning her neck to look over his shoulder. He scooted nearer to her.
“Jane and Willy. Huh,” My grandpa smiled and continued flipping through her story. By the end of it, he was almost in tears.
“Wow, Lydia Grace, I’ve never read anything so good. You have to show this to Mr. Londington.You’ll be his favorite student ever,” He gushed.
She blushed. “Oh, you’re too kind. Who is Mr. Londington?”
“The English teacher at Skiddington High. You’re going there in September, right?”
She blinked and tapped her finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Ah, yes, I am. You attend that school as well?”
He nodded. “Ever since 9th grade. I know that school backwards and forwards.”
She chuckled. “Oh? And what grade are you in?”
“I’ll be a Junior this year. How about you?” He replied.
“A Junior as well. Perhaps you could show me around?” She gave him a hopeful look. His heart skidded.
“Definitely! In fact, I can show you around town now. There is this great little ice cream parlor down the street and I’ve got just enough money for two cups. Do you like ice cream?” He flushed when he realized he sounding like a madman, talking that fast. He had a tendency to do that when he was nervous.
She laughed again. “I love ice cream.”
“Perfect!” He stood up quickly and offered her a hand. But she was already up and running toward the walkway. He chased after her and put his hand on her back.
The glimmer in her eyes when she looked at him was enough to steal his breath away. He’d never seen such a smile, heard such a laugh, or felt such a connection with anyone else.
In the span of twenty minutes, my grandpa had already fallen head over heels for Lydia Grace.

I stare at my grandfather, awestruck by his story. “Well, what happened? Why did you end up marrying Granny instead?”
He laughs. “You’re so much like Lydia Grace. You’ve got that same sparkle in your eyes that she did whenever she really got into something.”
I tilt my head. “Is that why you said I’m nothing like Granny?”
He smiles. “You really don’t miss anything, do you? I should know. You’re Lydia Grace’s twin, sixty-three years late. And Lydia Grace, well, she was nothing like Susie May. Susie didn’t ever care much about anything. She never had any real passion. The only time I ever saw her spark was when she was flirting or felt threatened.”
“But everyone always raves about Granny,” I say.
“Well of course. Everybody loved Susie May. She was a charmer. Extremely attractive. But she was no Lydia Grace,” He shakes his head. “It was harder to warm up to Lydia Grace, but when you did, well. Anyone who knew the girl liked her more than your Granny. She was demure, sweet, intelligent, true. And very strong. An admirable woman. Independent, grounded, virtuous. And well, she was a stunner. Now don’t get me wrong, your Granny was a gorgeous girl. But she wore too much makeup half the time. Lydia Grace, well. She never wore makeup. And yet, every boy stood still as soon as she walked in. Everybody wanted her number, but she didn’t market herself like your Granny. And that classiness intimidated the boys. It sure intimidated me.” He shakes his head and we both laugh. Then he adds, “You would have liked Lydia Grace’s style. You’re classy like her.”
I laugh again and brush back an errant curl from my face. “Oh, thank you Grandpa. That’s so nice that you liken me to her, considering how amazing she sounds.” I smooth my hands along my soft pink sundress and meet his eyes. “I’m assuming Granny didn’t like Lydia Grace too much.”
My Grandpa scoffs. “Oh. That’s an understatement. Your granny despised Lydia Grace. She did everything she could to break the two of us apart. Though, I guess she wasn’t too wrong. She knew I had it coming for me.”
“What happened?” I look at him with wide eyes. He laughs again.
“Well…” And so the story continues.

Jack and my grandpa were running laps around the baseball field when Lydia Grace came bolting out of the school, smiling a mile-wide. Both boys stopped dead in their tracks to go greet her.
“Lydia Grace!” My grandpa shouted.
“Henry!” She hugged him joyously. He was a little surprised—she’d never been so openly affectionate with him before—but boy, was he happy to have her arms around him! He hugged her back. “Oh, you were so right! I won the national writing contest, Henry! They’re going to publish my story,” She squealed. “Mr. Londington just told me. Oh Henry!”
My grandpa lifted her off the ground and spun her in the air. His grin was off the charts. “Lydia Grace, this is great! I knew it would happen! You’re such an amazing writer. We have to celebrate!”
Jack watched them enviously the whole while. When Grandpa finally put Lydia Grace back down, Jack put his arm around her waist.
“Hey baby,” Jack said in his seductive voice. “You should come to my show tonight at the diner. I’ve been working on this song, and what better night than this one to sing it to you?”
My grandpa blinked. He could tell Lydia Grace felt uncomfortable by the rosiness in her cheeks. He was about to rescue her when Susie May and her girls came over.
“Oh, Lyddie, darling,” Susie May gushed. “Aren’t you awful chipper? What a cute pair the two of you make. So is it official now?”
Susie May leaned up against my grandpa and began tracing the palm of his hand with her long, crimson-red nails. Lydia Grace’s eyes were pasted to their hands. My grandpa could tell she was seething.
Jack smiled. “I was just telling her how I’m singing her a song tonight at my show. She’s thrilled. Ain’t that right, baby?”
Lydia Grace was tomato-red by this point. My grandpa was ready to wring Jack’s neck.
“Aw,” Susie May cooed. “Look, she’s blushing. Come on Jackie boy. Knock her a kiss. Make it official.” Susie May’s posse cooed in agreement. “Then maybe Henry and I will follow suite.” She batted her eyelashes seductively at my grandpa. He nearly lurched away with her.
“Susie,” He started, but stopped dead when he saw Jack moving in on Lydia Grace’s lips. At the last moment, Lydia Grace shoved him away from her.
But he was persistent.
“Stop!” Lydia Grace insisted.
“Aw, come on, baby,” He said, tugging her in by the waist. She tried to loosen his grip, but it was vice-tight. My grandpa reached forward to pull him off her, but by that point, she’d already slapped him.
“Baby,” Jack said. “Come on, don’t be sassy, now.”
“Quit. Calling. Me. Baby,” Lydia Grace hissed. “I’m not your girlfriend, nor do I want to be. Now quit demeaning me with that god-awful word, and remove your filthy hands from my waist.” My grandpa blinked. He’d never heard Lydia Grace lose it like that before.
She ran away, and looked over her shoulder with narrowed eyes, daring Jack to call her baby one more time.
He didn’t. He was too mortified.
My grandpa began to chase after her, but Susie May caught him by the arm. “Now, now, darling. Don’t you leave me. Not for that tramp.” She ran her finger along his lips. He glared at her.
“Lydia Grace is not a tramp,” He growled. “How dare you of all people make such an accusation!” Susie May dropped her hand. She blinked.
After a few moments of just batting her eyelashes at him, she finally responded, “Ah, well, darling, it takes one to know one, I guess.” He gaped at her. She bit her lip. “Alright, I’m going to cut the crap.” Susie May looked my grandpa straight in the eyes. “I know you don’t respect me much. You’re in love with Lyddie. And don’t deny it like you’ve been; we all know it’s true. But, Henry, well,” Tears began to well in Susie May’s eyes. My grandpa gasped a little. That was the first time he’d seen her anywhere near tears. “I care about you, Henry. I really do. And sure, I’m jealous, and I’m mean, and I’m resentful. But it’s more than that; don’t you see? I know that girl’s type. She’ll leave you for dead, I swear it. She can’t take getting too close to someone. And she’s close with you, very close with you… Please, please, please quit wasting your time, ‘cause, whether or not you want to admit it, she’s got no intention of keeping you in her life, and I really don’t want to watch you get your heart broken.”
Then Susie May bolted away, and Jack and all her girls chased after her while my grandpa just stood there, blinking like a madman. He didn’t know what to do. Susie May, the most desired girl in school, just poured her heart out to him. Lydia Grace, the love of his life and best friend, was hiding somewhere, alone and traumatized.
Both girls needed him. But he was so confused, too confused to be there for anyone but himself.
Could Susie May be right about Lydia Grace? Or was she just speaking out of bitterness? He’d loved Lydia Grace since the very first day he’d met her. All it took was one glance and then he was chasing her like some blind puppy dog. But did she feel the same?
She had tons of insecurities. My grandpa knew that. Commitment was not something she gravitated toward. She was the type of girl who kept her distance most of the time and rarely lost her composure. She was afraid of getting hurt and being the center of any negative attention. She was left by her mother when she was little, so she had serious abandonment issues.
Lydia Grace’s dad wasn’t a very nice man. He was too caught up in making money and dating girls his daughter’s age to pay Lydia Grace much mind. My grandpa also got the feeling her dad was abusive, even though she would never admit as much. It would explain why she hated it when people got too touchy-feely with her.
My grandpa did know for a fact that Lydia Grace’s dad called her “baby.” Generally, Lydia Grace had no one to eat dinner with, so my grandpa would sometimes stop by and keep her company. A few times he ran into her dad, and it was always the same—he’d be laying there on the couch, drunk, demanding that his daughter pour him another beer because he was already too wasted to do it himself.
My grandpa had figured out a while ago Lydia Grace wasn’t especially trusting of men. Of course, that was only to be expected, considering the male role model in her life. But now he had to wonder, how trusting was she of him? She had to know he’d never treat her like her father did, that she was priceless to him.
He made up his mind. He needed to find her.
Eventually, he spotted her behind the bike-rack, rubbing her shaking arms. “Lydia Grace,” He whispered, sitting down next to her. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Her teeth were chattering. He undid his hoodie from around his waist and pulled it over her shoulders.
She shocked him and crawled into his lap.
He wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her shaky body to his chest. She didn’t cry. She just shut her eyes and leaned against him. “Did Jack scare you?” My grandpa asked.
She looked up at him through her long lashes and replied, “Would it sound stupid if I said yes?”
“Not at all,” My grandpa assured her, pressing his hand to her cheek. “Nothing you say sounds stupid.”
She smiled at him sweetly. Then she reached up and traced his nose with her fingertip. “I wrote a poem about you, you know,” She said. His breath caught.
“You did?”
She nodded. “A hundred poems, actually.”
“What about? How insane I am?” He said jokingly. But his heart was off the walls.
“About how handsome you are. And sweet. And imaginative. And caring. And how the first time we met, you introduced me to a tree. And about how much you mean to me, Henry,” Lydia Grace inhaled shakily and searched his eyes for encouragement. She was more than satisfied—his desire for her was written all over his face.
“Henry,” She mumbled. “I love you.”
His heart stopped. Gently, slowly, he pulled her face to his. Then, just before he kissed her, he whispered in return, “I love you too.”

By this point, I’m bug-eyed. “Grandpa!” I shout. “Aw… That’s just so sweet. She loved you, Grandpa. She really loved you. Gran was so wrong.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “I wish she was wrong. But your granny had it right. That’s the thing about Susie May; she was calculated, practical, analytical, accurate. She didn’t say stuff like that just out of spite.”


I tilt my head confusedly at him. “But Lydia loved you.”
“Well, she thought she did,” My grandpa replies.
“No, Grandpa, really,” I say. “She did. If she’s half as good a girl as you make her out to be, she did. She wouldn’t have lied to you.”
“Well, you haven’t heard the whole story yet,” My grandpa replies.
“Then tell me!”
And he does.

It was Senior Prom night and my grandpa was pulling into Lydia Grace’s driveway carefully, not wanting to mar the car his dad just bought him for his 18th birthday. He took a deep breath, looked at himself in the rearview mirror, and strolled up to Lydia Grace’s door.
He knocked.
A few seconds passed. Then he heard a lock switch and watched as the gold doorknob turned… He inhaled sharply. And then, there she was.
She was wearing a silk, sapphire-blue ball-gown dripping in strings of silver sequins and royal-blue crystals. Her hair was done up in curls that framed her lovely heart-shaped face, which was a tad bit rosier than usual with rouge.
Everything about her was so stunning; most boys wouldn’t have been able to point out the feature that was the most radiant. But my grandpa saw that feature in a heartbeat, he’d memorized her so well.
Her eyes…
They were shining so blue and so bright, sparkling like they never had before. They glistened as they took him in and as she laid her hand on his cheek.
“You look so beautiful,” He whispered, putting his hand on her waist. “You have the eyes of an angel.”
“And you’re the handsomest chap this world’s ever seen,” She replied, pressing her lips to his. “Now let’s go.”
She grabbed his hand and ran with him to his car, despite the heels on her feet. She opened her car-door before my grandpa had time to even walk around the front and quickly slid into the passenger-seat.
His car was a convertible. He didn’t expect her to lower the hood, since her hair was all done-up, but she never ceased to amaze him.
When he gave her a questioning look, she responded, “I love the wind on my face. My hair can do whatever it may. I hate having it up anyway.”
She turned the radio to a rock-and-roll channel and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her. He remembered how the first time they met, she’d been so self-conscious, so distant… But now, here she was, belting out her favorite Bill Haley tune, letting her hair fly crazily in the summer-wind, staring into his eyes with a passion only he could understand…
He breathed in the musical air and grabbed her hand. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Sing with me,” She commanded in that sweet British accent of hers.
And then, the two of them sang duos the entire drive, not caring who heard or who judged… They were just so happy.
By the end of the car-ride, Lydia Grace’s bun had completely fallen out, but she didn’t care; she shook her hair loose of any remaining bobby pins and hopped out of his car, not giving the rearview mirror a second glance. She didn’t need to; she was so beautiful. Especially with her hair down, my grandpa thought as he followed her into the school.
He put his arm around her waist and proudly walked her into the streamer-filled gymnasium. Almost every head turned.
The boys were awestruck and the girls were jealous—Lydia Grace had all their dates’ eyes. Susie May especially looked ready to commit murder, although my grandpa knew her envy had little to do with Jack’s wandering eyes.
Susie May was jealous of the way Lydia Grace smiled. And of the way she laughed. And of the way she floated down that confetti-covered aisle, effortlessly gaining the love, respect, and admiration of everybody in the room. But he knew what really ticked off Susie May the most was how his arm was around Lydia Grace’s waist and not hers--how this other girl, with her light-blue eyes and sunny smile, had so easily gotten the one boy Susie May ever chased.
Susie May sashayed up to my grandpa and Lydia Grace, dragging Jack by the arm. “Oh Lyddie, darling. How marvelous you look,” She gushed, trying to come off as genuine. But my grandpa knew Susie May was just acting and pretending.
He could see how broken her heart was even through her sexy, calm, cool facade. He saw it in her shineless eyes and stiff shoulders; he saw it in her overly squinted lids and lowered dimples. Nothing about this moment was real.
“Oh, thank you Susie,” Lydia Grace replied. “You look stunning too.”
Jack stared longingly at Lydia Grace but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want his ego to be hurt again, especially not in front of the entire student body.
So, instead, he turned to my grandpa. “Nice tux,” He said.
“You too,” My grandpa replied. Susie May turned her sad brown eyes onto him.
“How have you been, Henry, dear? It’s been so long since we’ve really talked,” She said. She was trying to sound happy, but my grandpa heard the pain in her voice.
He gave her a small smile. “Really good, Susie. How about you?”
“Oh, just fantastic. Jack here has been treating me well,” She replied, pulling her boyfriend nearer to her, tugging him by the tie.
“Oh, you bet I’ve been,” Jack agreed, squeezing Susie May’s waist. She twirled around and kissed him on the spot.
But it was all a lie, and my grandpa knew it. Her and Jack? At best, they were flirt-buddies. They had no real chemistry. They were both players, both heart-breakers, both users… They both wanted the only people they couldn’t have. That was why they were together, of course, and in all honesty, they were probably the healthiest rebound couple in school, since neither one wanted the other for anything more than a good time. But still, it was sad for my grandpa, watching them act so content when he knew the truth—Susie May’s heart was still his, and Jack’s lust was still centered around Lydia Grace, the girl who said “no.”
Lydia Grace tugged at my grandpa’s arm. She wanted to dance. Gladly, my grandpa led her onto the dance-floor, away from the dysfunctional couple making out in front of the whole school.
“Poor Susie,” Lydia whispered.
My grandpa blinked. “What do you mean?”
“She’s in misery, the girl,” Lydia Grace shook her head. “She’s stuck on you still, even after all those other boyfriends she’s had. It’s just. It’s sad.”
My grandpa stared into her pity-filled blue eyes. “I’m in love with you, my dear. As sad as Susie May might be, and as much as I’d like her to be happy, she’s nothing in comparison to you.”
Lydia Grace pressed her finger to my grandpa’s lips, hushing him. “Susie May is not nothing in comparison to me. You care for her, Henry, I know that. And that doesn’t make me upset, not in the least. You’re allowed to feel bad. You have every right to feel empathy for the girl.”
“But it’s not empathy, Lydia Grace; it’s sympathy,” My grandpa argued. “Empathy requires that I understand how she feels. But, fortunately for me, the only girl I’ve ever loved loves me back.”
Lydia Grace sighed. “Oh, Henry. What would happen if you lost me?”
“I don’t know,” My grandpa replied, cupping her hand in his cheek. “Hopefully I’ll never have to.”
She pulled her face away.
“But what if you do?” She whispered. “What if something awful happens and we have to part? What if, maybe, we’re not meant to be?” Her eyes were wide and scared. My grandpa felt her ribs trembling under his hand.
“What are you saying, Lydia Grace?” He was beginning to get the feeling she knew something he didn’t, that something bad was coming.
“Oh, I don’t know,” She replied, tucking a curl behind her ear. Her eyes were growing glassy.
He grabbed her chin between his fingers. “Lydia Grace?”
She shook her head. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“My love,” My grandpa whispered. “That’s never going to happen; not if you don’t want it to. If you want, we can spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Oh, Henry, not everything is a matter of what I want,” She cried. “Some things are a matter of life, of choice. And that choice won’t always be what I want it to be. Sometimes, it’s a matter of what’s right—for me, for you.” She was bawling her eyes out by this point.
“Lydia Grace, what’s going on? You love me, don’t you?”
Lydia nodded. “Of course I do, Henry. That’s why I’m crying.”
“But I’m yours, and I love you too. I’ll never leave you Lydia Grace. Don’t you see that?”
“Oh, but I’m no good for you, Henry,” Lydia Grace whispered. “You don’t see that yet, but I promise you, you will soon.”
“Stop. You’re being nonsensical. How many times do I have to tell you I love you for you to understand my heart is yours?” My grandpa pulled her closer to him.
“But Henry you’re not listening…”
He kissed her mid-sentence, stopping her from continuing her train of thought. For a moment her lips were motionless, hesitant; then they were pressing against his with more force than ever before. He felt the pain in them, the fear, the sadness, the desperation…
“Lydia Grace,” He breathed, but then she kissed him again. He was beginning to feel like Jack and Susie May. This was just as dysfunctional, wasn’t it? Having a make-out session in front of the entire student body in the middle of having a conversation about parting ways?
Even still, he didn’t push her away or try to talk anymore sense into her. He figured the kissing would make everything better-- that somehow, every uncertainty she’d just expressed would be chased away by the touch of his lips.
However, with each kiss, the uncertainties just grew stronger. He began to feel the doubt pulsating through his own veins as her kisses grew more and more longing and pained. He felt like his time was running out.
He ran his fingers through her hair, memorizing how soft and smooth it was, just in case he never got to feel it again. He traced her cheekbones, her chin, her spine…
“Excuse me,” came a nasally female voice from just behind them. Reluctantly, my grandpa turned. The principal stared back at him.
“Need I remind you, this is a school,” She said.
Lydia Grace’s cheeks reddened. She bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud. My grandpa swallowed and cleared his throat.
“Oh, sorry Ms. Clermont,” My grandpa said quickly, grabbing Lydia Grace by the waist.
“No more of that,” She said curtly, narrowing her eyes at the couple before continuing her walk around the gymnasium.
Lydia Grace and my grandpa nearly fell to the floor laughing once she was out of earshot. “Oh, goodness, Henry,” Lydia Grace said. “It seems the principal thinks me a tramp.”
“Ah but you’re still her valedictorian,” My grandpa said.
“Oh, the paradox,” Lydia Grace laughed. “Ah well. Her opinion hardly counts anymore.”
“Graduation is right around the bend,” My grandpa agreed. Lydia Grace didn’t respond to that.
That’s when he noticed the bruise just under her shoulder blade. He reached out to touch it. Lydia Grace winced.
“What happened to your shoulder?” He asked, sliding his hand a little further down her back. He realized there was a whole line of bruises, trailing down to her hip-bone.
“I…um. I fell,” Lydia Grace lied.
“Lydia Grace, I’m your boyfriend. You can trust me.” My grandpa tried to search her eyes, but as soon as he caught them, she lowered her lids.
She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t even admit it to herself.
My grandpa inhaled deeply. His adrenaline kicked up. He already knew who’d done that to her.
That awful excuse for a father...
She was on the verge of a breakdown. He knew this wasn’t the time or the place—that this conversation was ruining her night.
So, he laid his hand gently on her other shoulder. “It’s okay. I know,” He whispered. “I know.”
She started crying again and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Oh, God, Henry,” She mumbled. “You know you’re the only one who I’ve ever let get so close to me. You’re the only one that’s ever stuck around. No one’s ever figured it out before. No one’s ever cared enough to.”
“I’m different, Lydia Grace,” My grandpa responded. “I’ll always be here for you. I love you more than anything.”
“Don’t, Henry,” Lydia Grace pleaded. “Don’t love me more than anything. Love yourself first. One day, I won’t be here. You’ll be without me, and you’ll have to love yourself enough to know that I’m not the reason you’re breathing.”
“Why do you keep saying this stuff, Lydia Grace? Why are you so sure we’re not going to last?”
“Because,” She said gravely. “Nothing lasts forever, Henry. All good things come to an end. It has to be that way for new things to begin.”
“But there are certain things we can keep forever. And this love of ours—it’s one of those things. We can always love each other,” My grandpa protested.
“Of course we can,” Lydia Grace replied. “We can hold onto love because it isn’t real.”
“Of course it’s real! It’s everywhere, Lydia Grace. I’m submerged in it. Aren’t you? Doesn’t this feel real?”
“It feels real. But is it really, Henry? We’re real people, me and you. And we love each other. But really what is love to us? We’d still be people without it. We’d still be breathing. Sure we are real, tangible beings. But this desire for each other? It’s an illusion. An illusion blinding us from the real picture. One day, I’ll be dead. And so will you. And then this love will fade into the nothingness, and no one will ever feel it again. Then, certainly, no one will be able to argue that it is real because it won’t be. It’s only as real as we make it out to be, and the way we make things out to be isn’t reality at all.”
“But Lydia Grace!” My Grandpa exclaimed. “That’s like saying that after we die, we never existed because we’re not walking the Earth anymore.”
“But there’s proof of our existence in the dirt, written on our tombstones. Traces of our DNA will still coat the Earth. Traces of our love never will,” Lydia Grace argued.
“So, it’s not real to you because you can’t scientifically prove it?”
“Well,” Lydia Grace bit her lip. “You make it sound ridiculous when you put it like that.”
“Tell me something, Lydia Grace,” My grandpa demanded.
“What?”
He laid his hand on her hip. She jumped. “What do you feel when I put my hand there?”
“Well,” She was blushing. “A rush.”
He put his other hand on her waist. “And here?”
“Electricity…”
He tugged her forward, so that they were eye-to-eye. Her breathing pattern became erratic.
“This isn’t real for you, Lydia Grace? Are you really going to tell me that?” My grandpa breathed. “Because your eyes are telling a different story.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his. “It’s too real.”
My grandpa caressed her head in his palm. “I need you, Lydia Grace.”
She sighed. “No, Henry. You need air. You don’t need me, and you certainly don’t need this love, whether it’s real or not.” She pulled back and stared at him with glassy eyes. He huffed and shook his head.
“Do you not want to spend the rest of your life with me? Is that the problem?”
“No!” Lydia Grace exclaimed. “That’s not the problem at all. I want you to remain in my life so badly. You have no idea how badly.”
“Then why do you refuse to see a future with me in it?”
“Because, that’s not how it’s going to be,” Lydia Grace replied.
“But why?” My grandpa clutched her arms. “If you want it to be that way and I want it to be that way, why can’t it be?”
“Oh God Henry,” She cried. “Not everything’s that simple! It’s not all black and white for me. I love you dearly. You know I do. I loved you from the moment you walked up to me in that park and introduced me to Breeze. I loved you when you found me by that bike rack the day Jack scared me and lent me your jacket. And I’ll always love you, because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. But Henry, I don’t really deserve you. I’ve got so many problems that I can’t even admit to myself, much less to you. And that’s just not fair.” She shook her head, blinking away her tears.
“You have a life to live. But you don’t live it because of me. I’m your reason for waking up in the morning; I’m what you dream of at night. And sure, it pleases me, but it’s selfish. Because, Henry, let’s face it. We don’t have a happy ending together. My life is a mess, and I’m your life. It’s not supposed to be like that. We’re supposed to be our own people with lives headed in a similar direction, capable of loving ourselves as well as each other.”
My grandpa’s eyes stung. He couldn’t breathe. He knew what she was saying, but he didn’t want that… He didn’t want her to go; he needed her; he loved her…
“Lydia Grace, please, don’t talk like that. You do deserve me. God, you deserve better than me,” He said, pressing his hand to her cheek. “I’m so in love with you.”
“I know you are, Henry,” She choked. “I’m in love with you too.”
“Then just stop talking like that,” My grandpa begged.
She sucked in a deep breath. “My silence won’t change the truth behind what I’ve said.”
“Let’s enjoy our prom-night, Lydia Grace,” My grandpa whispered. “Your words are breaking my heart.”
“They’re breaking mine too. But you need to hear them, Henry.”
“No,” He said. “No, I don’t.” He pulled her back onto the dance-floor and tried to get lost in the music, to forget everything that just passed.
But he couldn’t.
An hour later, they were back in his convertible. The top was down again and the same station was on, but neither of them was singing.
Mid-way through the trip, Lydia Grace reached out and touched his hand. He clenched it tightly, not wanting to ever let it go.
Eventually, they were back in her driveway. But neither one moved. They just sat there, motionless, staring blankly at the garage door in front of them.
Finally she turned.
“Henry,” She whispered.
“Lydia Grace,” He replied.
“Thank you. For everything,” She said with teary eyes.
His heart lurched. He knew her words had a double meaning. “I’d do anything for you.”
“Then live,” She whispered, leaning forward in her seat to press her lips to his. He could feel it in the power behind her kiss—it was the last one she’d ever be giving him.
She opened her car door and slipped out into the night. Then, just before she went into her house, she said, “Henry.”
He turned to look at her.
“I love you.”
A tear rolled down his cheek. “I love you too, Lydia Grace,” He breathed.
And then, for the very last time, she smiled that bright smile of hers and disappeared into her house.
My grandpa never saw her again.

I’m in tears. “Grandpa,” I whisper. “No. No. What happened to her?”
He shakes his head sadly. “From the letter she wrote me, all I know is that she ran away. She was 18, so she was old enough to go create a new life for herself. Things were really bad with her father, I think. When I stopped by her house the next morning after prom I found him passed out on the couch and all the furniture broken and turned over. Her room was covered in blood-stains, so God-knows what he did to her,” He shakes his head. “But she left that red-leatherback notebook on her bed for me, so that I could find the letter and know that she was creating a new life for herself. She wanted me to move on, to salvage my relationship with Susie May.” He inhales deeply. “And I did.”
“Oh Grandpa,” I reach out and touch his hand. “You never saw her again? Or heard about her? She was a good writer, right? Did you ever look to see if she published any books?”
“No,” My grandpa shakes his head. “I married Susie May not too long after high-school. I couldn’t do that to her; it wouldn’t have been fair.”
“Were you in love with Susie May?”
“I’m not really a believer in love,” My grandpa says. “After Lydia Grace left, I became disenchanted. But I liked her well enough. Enough to marry her.”
“Did she love you?”
My grandpa shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess she did. As much as she could love anyone. But your granny wasn’t the real loving type. She wanted what she wanted and eventually, she got it.”
I sigh. “Do you ever wonder about Lydia Grace?”
He laughs sadly. “Of course I do. But that doesn’t really matter much, does it? She left me behind in 1952. That was 61 years ago.”
“Do you want to see her again?” I ask. “I’m sure I can find her, reunite you two…”
“My dear,” He says, holding up his hand to hush me. “I fell in love with Lydia Grace 63 years ago under a tree named Breeze, when we were both young and impressionable. I had two years with her. That’s all I was supposed to have. Because as sad as it is, and as much as I loved her, we weren’t meant to be together,” He blinks back tears. “Our love is in the past. That’s where it’s got to stay.”
I look at him. He looks out the window. But that’s when I realize, he’s not really looking out the window at all.
Because, the truth is, he hasn’t moved on. He’s still staring at Lydia Grace, the girl he lost 61 years ago, reliving every joyous moment he ever spent with her. He’s playing back time, desperately trying to get back the love he lost when he was just 18.
A tear rolls down my cheek as I realize just how sad that is. Life isn’t just about loving and losing and wallowing in self-pity. It’s about growing and getting hurt. It’s about learning and moving on. It’s about chasing dreams. It’s about believing what you want is what you deserve.
My grandpa let that belief die when Lydia Grace left him behind. He gave up on love, on fighting…
He gave up on life.
“Grandpa,” I say.
He doesn’t reply.
I sigh.
“She loved you. She really did. But you’re right, she’s gone. And one of these days, you’re going to have to stop staring at that window, hoping you’ll see her smiling back at you.”
He still says nothing. I blink back more tears.
There is nothing left to say to make it better. His life is already gone.
But mine is not.
I stand up and look at him one last time. His eyes are pasted to the window, lost in another world...
I take a deep breath and turn toward the door.
It’s time for me to go get what I want.