I’ll Give You the Sun(91)
Author: Jandy Nelson

So we grapple with the mysteries, each in our own way.

And some of us get to float around on one of them and call it home. We visited The Mystery this morning and Dad hit it off with the owner, Melanie—I mean really hit it off. They’re having drinks this evening on the deck of the ark. To discuss the sale, he told us, trying to hide the super-kook grin.

I wipe my hands clean on a nearby towel, reach in my bag and take out Guillermo’s copy of Mom’s book on Michelangelo.

“I stole it. I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

He takes it from me, looks down at Mom’s picture. “She call me that day from the car. She sound so upset, so very upset. She say she need to see me later to talk. So when Noah come here and tell me . . . I am sure this is what she was going to say to me: that she change her mind.”

On my way out, I stop to visit with the angel and make my last wish. For Noah and Brian.

Best to bet on all the horses, dear.

• • •

It’s Thursday, two weeks later, and Dad and I are on the front stoop, peeling off our wetsuits. He swam, I surfed, or more accurately, I got rag-dolled wave after wave—totally amazing. As I dry off, I’m keeping my eyes glued to the trailhead across the street because I feel fairly certain the five p.m. rendezvous spot is in the woods where Noah and Brian spent all their time that summer.

Noah told me he found Brian’s address online and sent him a series of drawings he did—around the clock like a maniac—called The Invisible Museum. A few days later, there was a response to his post on LostConnections. It said: I’ll be there.

Last week, Noah received an invitation to attend CSA, based on the photos of his mural I took. I told Sandy I’d give up my spot for him if necessary. It wasn’t. Noah hasn’t decided what he’s going to do.

The sunset has turned the sky into a carnival of color as Noah and Brian walk out of the forest, hand in hand. Brian notices Dad and me first and shrugs his hand away, but Noah immediately finds it again. At this, Brian’s eyes squint up and his face cracks open in a heart-crushing smile. Noah, like always around Brian, can barely keep his head on his neck, he’s so happy.

“Oh,” Dad says. “Oh, I see. Okay. I didn’t realize. I thought, Heather, you know? But this makes more sense.”

“It does,” I say, noticing a ladybug has landed on my hand.

Quick, make a wish.

Take a (second or third or fourth) chance.

Remake the world.