Page 48 of Wrecked

The longer I stare at it, the more I realize, it’s not rough at all. It’s carved wood, and there’s an inscription in it.

Drawing closer, I rise up on my tiptoes and squint my eyes to read it better.

For the heart finds comfort in the moments cherished with the touch of a hand.

The words sound familiar. A poem? A lyric? I step back and bite my lip, trying to recall where I heard those words before. No, not heard. I’ve seen those words before. Written down in a notebook a long time ago. Words written by someone I once loved.

I spin around and face Adam.

“Those are Brad’s words,” I say.

He gives a half-smile and looks up at the wood. “Didn’t know if you’d remember.”

“Remember? He was a beautiful writer. He never let anyone read his poems though.”

“Except for you,” Adam says. “He let you read them.”

My eyes slightly mist over. Brad kept a notebook in his room where he wrote his feelings down. He was creative and artistic at an age when I couldn’t appreciate just how special his talents were.

“Why is that quote there?” I ask, pointing to the wood.

“Every house is inscribed with something he wrote. Tomorrow, when the paint dries, I’ll go over the letters with a darker paint.”

“All three of these homes have Brad’s words on them?”

“Yes,” Adam says, “and every other home ever built by Homes for All Souls.”

I tilt my head to the side. “How many is that?”

“Twenty-eight.”

My mouth drops down. “You mean, there are twenty-eight homes with his quotes written on them? The same quote or different ones?”

“All different.” Adam puts his hands in his pockets and nudges his head. “Come on, I’ll show you the other two that are here.”

He walks down the stairs as I blink, still amazed. When Adam gets to the bottom of the stairs, he looks back at me, asking with his eyes if I’m coming.

I walk down the steps, and when I get to him, we walk side by side to the second home.

Don’t fear the unknown of tomorrow when you can live the joy of today.

I blow out a deep breath of air from my lips. I remember when he wrote that one. “Your dad was diagnosed with cancer. Everyone was devastated. Except for your dad.” I let out a laugh at the odd memory. “He had this lawn sign that said, I’m telling cancer to fuck off. Honk if you love cold beer.”

It was the strangest thing, but it worked. Every day, you could hear cars honking in front of their house. And each honk would make Mr. Reingold smile.

“Brad said your dad was the bravest man he ever knew. He wrote that quote in an essay for school. Got an A-plus.” I smile wide, and when I look over at Adam, I see he’s not sharing my joy.

I continue, “There’s a Matthew McConaughey quote. ‘I’m gonna keep on keepin’ on and let my soul fly. If even for just the day.’ It reminds me of your dad. Reminds me of Brad. Reminds me of you.” I fidget with my arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m saying something wrong.” I cross my arms in front of my body. “You look at me like every word out of my mouth is the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard.”

His brows tilt in. “I do?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not what I think,” he says calmly.