Abby spent her summers at her grandmother’s house in the country, on a dirt road with an old stone bridge with a deep slow moving brook underneath. The bridge had a fairy tale look to it, arched in a way that was fine for horse, not for cars.
As a small girl, Abby had taken to making wishes at the bridge by carefully picking a magical-looking stone and throwing it in the water, focusing all her might and attention on the plop it made in the water. It gave her a thrill to hear that plop and see the sparkling droplets jumping up around it. She felt certain that very soon she’d be able to fly, or teleport or talk to animals. She’d make the wish every day of the summer, feeling certain that there was a build up of power each time she wished.
As she got older and the wishes never came to be, she wizened up. It was too much to ask the bridge to defy nature with teleportation. She needed to ask for realistic wishes, that could happen, that she could help make happen. Like hoping her mother got that job she needed, or that her grandmother didn’t Alzheimer’s. These wishes seemed to be working, and so Abby, now fourteen, asked for the one thing that she’d wanting for years: that Thomas Woodruff would fall in love with her.
Thomas and Abby were summer friends, they spent July and August running through fields and woods, playing pretend, swimming in the brook and catching frogs. As the years went by they stopped catching frogs but their friendship deepened. Abby could tell Thomas anything—about her grandmother who drank too much, her lack of friends in the ‘real world’, the Massachusetts suburb where she lived with her mother. Likewise Thomas told her about his parents fighting, and subsequent divorce, and his dreams of being a musician, which his father had tolerated, and then vetoed by taking away his guitar. Thomas listened to her better than anyone. And he made her laugh harder than anyone.
Abby wasn’t sure when she began to love Thomas, but it had always been clear that he felt no passion towards her. Instead he’d tell her about the crushes he had on girls at his school, the summer where he fell in love with Abby’s sister (which was just about unbearable). Abby never tried to tell Thomas how she felt, knowing how awkward it make everything, but she kept wishing at that bridge, every morning, focusing all her love and need on that pebble plunging into the water, begging the stream--the only thing in the world that might have real magic—to grant her wish.
Then one summer Thomas brought up a girlfriend, and Abby truly lost hope. They spent every moment touching other, laughing about secret jokes, until she couldn’t bear the sight of them. That fall she went to college and swore not to think about Thomas again.
Years later Abby’s grandmother died and Abby inherited the house by the brook. She spent summers there, still using the bridge for wishes, but only wishes that were achievable, like passing her PhD exams, getting a faculty position, all which came true. Yet occasionally she’d still wish for Thomas’ love. She hadn’t found anyone else like him. She held a smidgen of hope that all those years of wishes would coalesce.
Then one day Thomas came to visit, and Abby could see he had loved her all along. The thing she hadn’t asked was that Thomas would tell her he loved her.
— Von
As a small girl, Abby had taken to making wishes at the bridge by carefully picking a magical-looking stone and throwing it in the water, focusing all her might and attention on the plop it made in the water. It gave her a thrill to hear that plop and see the sparkling droplets jumping up around it. She felt certain that very soon she’d be able to fly, or teleport or talk to animals. She’d make the wish every day of the summer, feeling certain that there was a build up of power each time she wished.
As she got older and the wishes never came to be, she wizened up. It was too much to ask the bridge to defy nature with teleportation. She needed to ask for realistic wishes, that could happen, that she could help make happen. Like hoping her mother got that job she needed, or that her grandmother didn’t Alzheimer’s. These wishes seemed to be working, and so Abby, now fourteen, asked for the one thing that she’d wanting for years: that Thomas Woodruff would fall in love with her.
Thomas and Abby were summer friends, they spent July and August running through fields and woods, playing pretend, swimming in the brook and catching frogs. As the years went by they stopped catching frogs but their friendship deepened. Abby could tell Thomas anything—about her grandmother who drank too much, her lack of friends in the ‘real world’, the Massachusetts suburb where she lived with her mother. Likewise Thomas told her about his parents fighting, and subsequent divorce, and his dreams of being a musician, which his father had tolerated, and then vetoed by taking away his guitar. Thomas listened to her better than anyone. And he made her laugh harder than anyone.
Abby wasn’t sure when she began to love Thomas, but it had always been clear that he felt no passion towards her. Instead he’d tell her about the crushes he had on girls at his school, the summer where he fell in love with Abby’s sister (which was just about unbearable). Abby never tried to tell Thomas how she felt, knowing how awkward it make everything, but she kept wishing at that bridge, every morning, focusing all her love and need on that pebble plunging into the water, begging the stream--the only thing in the world that might have real magic—to grant her wish.
Then one summer Thomas brought up a girlfriend, and Abby truly lost hope. They spent every moment touching other, laughing about secret jokes, until she couldn’t bear the sight of them. That fall she went to college and swore not to think about Thomas again.
Years later Abby’s grandmother died and Abby inherited the house by the brook. She spent summers there, still using the bridge for wishes, but only wishes that were achievable, like passing her PhD exams, getting a faculty position, all which came true. Yet occasionally she’d still wish for Thomas’ love. She hadn’t found anyone else like him. She held a smidgen of hope that all those years of wishes would coalesce.
Then one day Thomas came to visit, and Abby could see he had loved her all along. The thing she hadn’t asked was that Thomas would tell her he loved her.
— Von
Awwwwww. Wishes come true... and not too late! Speak your heart, Thomas! ---Macoff
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