ten years. As she lifted the lid, the smell of old things drifted through the air as easily as the sense of nostalgia enveloped her.
Memories. Her memories.
Even as she had every intention of going through the box to put an end to this madness, she found herself desperate to cling to the memories. She had loved him deeply. Something like that could not just be tossed aside.
As she lifted an old photograph, she held it to her chest, wanting to grasp any part of Drew that she could. She couldn’t throw any of this away. Not yet.
Time had seemed to wash out the memories, causing them to fade ever so slightly, but opening this box erased all the damage time had done.
She had forgotten so many things about him. Even the pain of losing him had dimmed. She could no longer remember his voice or the expressions of his face. But her fragmented dreams had brought it all back.
Lovingly, she lifted out his sweatshirt. The deep red color brought a different kind of sadness. She ran her fingers across the white letters stitched on the front—Harvard.
He’d had such dreams, such potential. He might not have ever been accepted into Harvard, but she did not doubt that he would have been successful wherever he ended up.
Putting the sweatshirt aside, she lifted out a stack of photos. Next, she pulled out a stack of letters. Long before text messages and email, handwritten notes and letters had existed, and they were sacred to her. She missed getting them.
Her eyes scanned each one, taking in the way he drew a heart in one fluid stroke of his pen. She had never seen anyone else do it that way. It made him unique.
Josh suddenly came to mind.
Now the man of her past and the man of her present dueled for a place in her heart. But the harsh reality of it was that she would lose this battle no matter what. She would never be able to have either one.
Micah took her time going through the box, reading each letter, staring at each picture, memorizing every detail. Then she put her favorite picture and her favorite letter aside. Everything else went back in the box and the lid back on top.
It was time. She had had her cry, and now it was time to move forward.
She carried the heavy box out to the living room and set it near the door. It was time for it to go. That was the healthy thing to do.
Sabina entered the apartment with her arms full of groceries and almost tripped over the box. She had obviously gone to the market and purchased a load of fresh fruit and vegetables. What really stuck out to Micah, though, were the flashy sequined top, black leather leggings and stilettos Sabina wore.
Sabina’s eyes filled with worry as she took in Micah’s tearstained cheeks and puffy red eyes, but thankfully she said nothing. Micah didn’t want to talk about it just yet.
“You wore that to the market?”
“I ran out of clean clothes.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. What’s wrong with this?” Sabina looked down at her outfit, trying to figure out what was wrong with it and seemingly forgetting she was still holding several bags of food.
“Here, let me help.” Micah relieved her of some of the bags. “And let me inform you what is wrong with your outfit. No one wears sequins to the market, much less Marc Jacobs stilettos.”
“I can. I have always said it is better to be overdressed than underdressed.” Sabina gave Micah’s look a once-over. “Besides, since when did the pajama queen start handing out fashion advice? Have you been sleeping all day again?”
“This isn’t about me. Don’t try to change the subject. Yes, you do always say that. But if you show up wearing a ball gown next week while trying to buy fresh fish, everyone will make fun of you.”
“No, they won’t. Everyone will just start wearing gowns the following week. I am a trendsetter.”
Micah rolled her eyes. A trendsetter, my butt.
“And Mike, the fact that you knew these were Marc Jacobs did not escape my notice. It warms my heart.”
Oh, yay! Just what she always hoped she would be capable of doing—spotting and naming designers at the drop of a hat.
“How did we become friends again?”
* * *
Josh needed to see her. There was this nagging emotion that had been plaguing him. He’d thought it would all go back to normal after a good night’s sleep. That soon this would all be water under the bridge.
She never texted him back. He hadn’t heard from her at all. Out of desperation, he texted Sabina, a rarity in and of itself, to check in on Micah. According to Sabina, she had slept the day away and appeared to have been crying. It was getting worse, not better. But the question was, did he step in to help, or did he give her space?
Maybe space was needed. She needed to work through these unresolved issues with Drew and he needed to get himself under control. Space was a good thing. At least that was what he kept telling himself.
Regardless, they needed to talk, clear the air. Then space could be possible, and at least his mind would be at ease. But as he stood at her doorstep, he realized he probably should have rehearsed what to say beforehand. He’d just have to see how it went.
He lifted his hand and placed three quick knocks on the hardwood door. A few moments later, the knob turned and door opened. Micah stood in front of him, appearing very much like the best friend he knew and loved in her oversize T-shirt and what she called comfy pants, her glasses in place and hair wadded up on top of her head. Her eyes were a little puffy and red, evidence of the tears Sabina had told him about.
She didn’t say anything, just stood in the doorway, looking at him.
“I need to ask you something.” The look she gave him told him it was okay to proceed. “How much do you think a polar bear weighs?”
She gave him a puzzled but knowing look. She knew him too well to know it wasn’t a serious question plaguing his mind. “I don’t know. How much?”
“Enough to break the ice.” It got the response he wanted. Well, almost. It was a smile, even if forced. She moved aside to let him enter.
“I can’t talk right now, Josh.”
“You know, I used to have a pet porcupine.”
“What? What in the world does that have to do with me not wanting to talk?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought we were beginning this conversation with each of us saying things that don’t matter.”
Her smile stretched from ear to ear. It didn’t matter what was going on between them. She could be mad at him and ready to spit fire his way, but he would saunter in and say something charming. What could he say? He had a way about him. It worked every time.
“Okay. I’ll stop.” He threw his hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to check in on you.”
“As
