I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Poppy’s quiet silhouette drifted toward the window. “Poppymin?”
Poppy halted, then finally looked back at me. I swallowed, chasing away the razor blades in my throat, as Poppy came to stand before me. She was wearing a thick parka coat over track pants and a sweater. A backpack lay at her feet.
I frowned. It was still dark.
“What are you doing?”
Poppy made her way back to the window, looking back to playfully ask, “Are you coming?”
She grinned at me and my heart cracked. It splintered at how beautiful she was. My lips curved upward at her infectious happiness, and I asked again, “Where the hell are you going?”
Poppy pulled back the curtain and pointed at the sky. “To watch the sunrise.” She cocked her head to the side as she looked at me. “I know it’s been a while, but did you forget I did this?”
A wave of warmth flowed through me. I hadn’t forgotten.
Getting to my feet, I allowed myself a small huff of a laugh. I immediately stopped. Poppy noticed, and sighing sadly, she walked back to me. I glanced down at her, wanting nothing more than to wrap my hand around the nape of her neck and take her mouth with my own.
Poppy studied my face, then took my hand. Taken aback, I stared down at her fingers, wrapped around mine. They looked so small as they gently squeezed my hand.
“It’s okay, you know?” she said.
“What?” I asked, edging closer.
Poppy’s grip stayed on my hand as the other lifted toward my face. She rose to her tiptoes and laid her fingertips on my lips.
My heart beat a little faster.
“It’s okay to laugh,” she said, her voice as soft as a feather. “It’s okay to smile. It’s okay to feel happy. Or what’s the point in life?” What she was saying hit me hard. Because I didn’t want to do or feel those things. I felt guilty just thinking about being happy.
“Rune,” Poppy said. Her hand drifted down to rest on the side of my neck. “I know how you must be feeling. I’ve dealt with this for a while now. But I also know how it makes me feel seeing my favorite people in the world, the ones that I love with my whole heart, hurt and upset.”
Poppy’s eyes shone. It made me feel worse. “Poppy…,” I went to say, covering her hand with my own.
“It’s worse than any pain. It’s worse than facing death. Seeing my illness leech the joy from those I love is the worst thing of all.” She swallowed, drew in a soft breath, and whispered, “My time is limited. We all know that. So I want that time to be special…” Poppy smiled. And it was one of her wide, bright smiles. The kind that could make even an angry guy like me see a sliver of light. “As special as special can be.”
And so I smiled.
I let her see the happiness she brought out in me. I let her see that those words—the words from our childhood—had broken through the dark.
At least for the moment.
“Freeze,” Poppy suddenly said. I did. A slight giggle left her throat.
“What?” I asked, still holding her hand.
“Your smile,” she replied and playfully dropped her mouth as if in shock. “It’s still there!” she whispered, dramatically. “I thought it was a mythical legend like Sasquatch or the Loch Ness Monster. But it’s there! I’ve witnessed it with my own eyes!”
Poppy framed her face with her hands and batted her eyelashes in exaggeration.
I shook my head, fighting a real laugh this time. When my laugh had calmed, Poppy was still smiling at me. “Only you,” I said. Her smile softened. Inching down, I pulled the collar of her coat closer to her neck. “Only you could make me smile.”
Poppy closed her eyes, just for a moment. “Then that’s what I’ll be doing as much as I can.” She looked into my eyes. “I’ll make you smile.” She rose higher onto her toes, until our faces were almost touching. “And I’ll be determined.”
A bird chirped outside, and Poppy’s gaze drifted to the window. “We have to go if we want to catch it,” she urged, then stepped back, breaking our moment.
“Then let’s go,” I replied and, pulling on my boots, followed her. I picked up her bag and threw it over my shoulder; Poppy smiled to herself as I did.
I slid open the window. Poppy dashed to her bed. When she came back, she was holding a blanket in her hands. She glanced up at me. “It’s cold this early.”
“That coat won’t be warm enough?” I asked.
Poppy held the blanket to her chest. “This is for you.” She pointed to my t-shirt. “You’ll be cold in the grove.”
“You know I’m Norwegian, right?” I asked dryly.
Poppy nodded. “You’re a real life Viking.” She leaned in. “And between you and me, you’re really good on adventures, as predicted.”
I shook my head in amusement. She rested her hand on my arm.
“But, Rune?”
“Yes?”
“Even Vikings get cold.”
I nudged my head toward the open window. “Go on or we’ll miss the sun.”
Poppy slid through the window, still smiling, and I followed behind. The morning was cold, the wind stronger than the night before.
Poppy’s hair whipped at her face. Concerned that she was cold, and that it might make her sick, I reached for her arm and pulled her to face me. Poppy looked surprised, until I lifted her heavy hood and pulled it up over her head.
I tied the strings to secure it in place. Poppy watched me the whole time. My actions were slowed under her rapt attention. When the bow was tied, my hands stilled, and I looked deeply into her eyes.
“Rune,” she said after several strained seconds of silence. I tipped my chin, quietly waiting for her to continue. “I can still see your light. Beneath the anger, you’re still there.”
Her words made me step back in surprise. I glanced up at the sky. It was beginning to lighten. I walked forward. “You coming?”
Poppy sighed and rushed to catch up with me. I slipped my hands into my pockets as we made our way, in silence, to the grove. Poppy was looking all around her on the way. I tried to follow what she was seeing, but it only ever appeared to be birds or trees or grass swaying in the wind. I frowned, wondering what had her so transfixed. But this was Poppy, she’d always danced to her own drumbeat. She’d always seen more going on in the world than anyone else I knew.
She saw the light piercing the dark. She saw the good through the bad.
It was the only explanation I had for why she hadn’t told me to leave her alone. I knew she saw me as different, changed. Even if she hadn’t told me so, I would have seen it in the way she watched me. Her stare was guarded sometimes.
She would never have looked at me like that before.
When we entered the grove, I knew where we would sit. We walked to the biggest tree—our tree—and Poppy opened her backpack. She pulled out a blanket to sit on.
When she had laid it out, she gestured for me to sit. I did, resting my back against the wide tree trunk. Poppy sat in the center of the blanket and leaned back on her hands.
The wind seemed to have dropped. Untying the bow from the hood’s strings, she let the hood fall back, showing her face. Poppy’s attention turned to the brightening horizon, the sky now gray, with tints of red and orange pushing through.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my smokes and brought one to my mouth. I struck the lighter, lit the smoke and drew in a drag, feeling the instant it hit my lungs.