“He’s too good, and that’s why I feel sorry for him.”
That year, Wesley’s grandmother was also sick, hospitalized. He grew up with her, loved her deeply
To pay for her treatment, he was overwhelmed every day.
My mom said Wesley’s wings were too fragile.
Burdened by his grandmother and me, he couldn’t fly.
I clenched my fist, and after a long while, I trembled, saying, “Mom… I can’t let him go.”
That one line, and I cried like rain.
Ten years ago, and it still feels bittersweet now.
I bought my mom’s favorite persimmons, planning to visit her one last time at the cemetery.
I’m dying, need to tell her I won’t be coming anymore.
Before that, I went to Wesley’s office to get something.
When my mom was alive, she adored Wesley.
Back then, she wasn’t ill, and Wesley and I were madly in love.
She went to the temple, prayed, and got two lucky dolls,
The boy doll had Wesley’s birthday inside, and the girl had mine.
For safety, health, and for loved ones to be together forever.
Mom wanted me to give the doll to Wesley.
Wesley didn’t want his doll, insisted on taking mine.
He said the red–cheeked girl doll looked like me, cute and silly.
He said seeing her was like seeing me.
He liked seeing me.
That doll is still on Wesley’s desk.
I’m afraid that when I die, Wesley will toss it away like trash.
My mom went to the temple and brought back two lucky dolls for blessings.
One boy doll held Wesley Miller’s birthday, and the girl doll held mine, meant for protection and to keep loved ones together.
My mom wanted me to give the lucky doll to Wesley Miller.
But Wesley didn’t want his, he insisted on taking mine.
He said the girl doll with rosy cheeks looked just like me, charmingly quirky.
He said seeing it reminded him of me.
He liked seeing me.
That lucky doll still sits on Wesley’s desk.
I worry that when I pass away, Wesley will toss it aside like garbage.
It was something my mom got for me, and I want it back to place on her tombstone, to keep her company for me.
When I reached the office, Wesley was watching my morning video, the one where Thad a nosebleed and joked about dying.
Upon seeing me, he tossed his phone aside without a word or question.
Inoticed the spot on his desk where my lucky doll used to be was empty
I frowned and asked, “Where’s my lucky doll?”
Cora Miller, who was following me, overheard and smiled, “A few days ago, I injured my hand, and Mr. Miller was so concerned he gave mi that lucky doll.
“He said it reminded him of me, clumsy but endearing.”
