What The Heart Wants by Jessica Gadziala Page B

ones she would have no use for. Like a manual on how to build a root cellar or weave a basket.
    She grabbed the pink chaise lounge and pushed it into Mam’s bedroom. It had thoroughly frustrated her since she first arrived that it didn’t match the other blue furniture or the green walls for that matter.
    After rummaging through the cabinets, she found a bottle of gin, barely opened and poured it into a coffee mug. She winced and spat after the first sip, unsure why anyone would want to drink anything that smelled and tasted like a Christmas tree.
    But an image of Sam flashed into her mind. Sam telling her it was a bad idea to kiss her. Sam regretting having kissed her. Eric almost kissing her. Eric not kissing her. The image of both of them walking away from her.
    Then she filled her mug and chugged it down. After another mug, the flavor didn’t bother her anymore. She turned up the music, blaring out every awful thought her mind wouldn’t let her forget.
    The booze snaked its way through her system, making her light-headed and clumsy.  
    She found an unopened gallon of white paint hidden in the back of the cabinet under the kitchen sink and fell on her butt trying to drag it out.
    A few hours later she sat in a freshly painted living room. The bright white made the room seem bigger and cheery despite the insistent rain outside. And it finally matched the blue and white furniture.
    She moved onto the dining room next, intent on tackling the massive amounts of paperwork that Mam had accumulated on the dining room table. Bills were still there from three years before, mixed with handwritten invoices and printed receipts from varying purchases in towns all over Pennsylvania.
    Anna picked up an old farmer’s almanac, carrying it over to the already overflowing garbage bin. A note fell out of the pages, fluttering to the floor. She bent and picked it up, figuring it was just another bill. But she noticed it was on regular college-ruled notebook paper.
    She unfolded it, finding a handwritten note inside.
     
     
    Dearest Minnie,  
     
    I understand the impossibility of this situation. I feel your frustration as well as mine. It haunts me every waking hour of my day. It plagues my dreams. I want to be there with you in that cozy grey bedroom, sleeping away the days I currently spend longing for you by my side.
    I would throw this all away in a heartbeat if you would only let me. Allow me to choose you.
    Always yours,
    John
     
     
    Anna sat down on a dining room chair. She could feel the heartbreak sharp as a knife, strong as if it was her own. Another piece of Mam’s life fell into place. The note on her bedroom wall was from a man who had so obviously been in love with her.
    She felt a smile spread across her face as she realized Mam had hung it on her bedroom wall. The wall John had referenced in his letter as being gray. The wall she had vengefully painted a rosy pink.
    Annabelle wished she had more pieces to the puzzle. She wished she knew when the letters were written. Had Mam been a young woman? What was it that John was willing to give away for her? Why hadn’t Mam let him?
    Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt a sadness growing. What must it have been like to be so loved? Did Mam know how lucky she had been? Did she know that most women would go their whole lives without ever having a hint of what John felt for her?
    Love had never been a prominent thought in her mind. Due largely to her complete lack of comfort dealing with the opposite sex, she never really considered it much of a possibility. It also didn’t help watching Viv fall in love and get heartbroken dozens of times over the years in her own pursuit of love.
    If she were being honest with herself, she would admit that she wanted it. She wouldn’t have spent countless hours diving into romance novels if a part of her didn’t want to meet someone and fall heart over heels. And maybe, just maybe, a teensy tiny little part of her had hoped that Sam