'Dear Khari Spence,
I am pleased to inform you that you are being invited to train for Peace Corps service in Ethiopia as a community health educator.'
Chewing on my bottom lip, I placed the folded up letter into my back pocket and slid into my desk next to Warren in our English class. It was the last day of school and everyone seemed to be buzzing with excitement now that they could finally be free of the scheduled bells and disgusting lunches.
Warren nodded at me while fingering through the pictures of his newest younger sibling, Michael. Isaiah and his wife ended up moving to Atlanta so that they could stay close to Warren and experience a change in scenery. Avery decided to stay in St. Louis and attend Mizzou while effectively keeping an eye on Laila.
She somehow managed to continue her education in a single school without being suspended or placed in detention, but her summer was supposedly going to be full of planned protests and immense hours of research about the Tuskegee Trials.
Milo skipped over to my desk while humming along to the school's anthem. Her short sleeve shirt matched the scarf she had wrapped around her head. She claimed that she wanted to slay everyone on graduation—I wasn't an exception to that. I pulled her onto my desk while trying to erase the sense of overwhelming guilt that her presence evoked.
I mumbled into her torso, "Milo, I got accepted into the Peace Corps. I'm leaving out next month to Ethiopia."
She forced a smile onto her glossy lips and rubbed my head. We'd had been together for ten months, dating for six, and we had somehow managed to skirt over the topic of our relationship after high school. Milo would always shift the subject into something unimportant.
"That's great, Ree." She nodded her head and laughed, "I know how much you've been banking on this; I'm proud of you."
Her sincerity outweighed her subtle sadness as she continued to run her fingers through my hair—her new coping mechanism. My right hand rubbed up to her back until the teacher, Ms. Manolo strolled into the classroom. A refreshed smile graced her face as she pulled out a dry-erase marker to write on the board. Milo slid off of my desk before flicking my nose and ran to her side of the classroom.
Ms. Manolo announced, "Okay, class! You all know the drill, get onto your opposing sides of the classroom so we can finish out this debate."
"So, if you believe true love exists, go to the right side of the classroom. If you believe that true love does not exist, go to the left side of the classroom."
A large smirk rose on Milo's face and she began to squeal loudly while jumping in Warren's face. I rubbed the back of my neck while standing up and feeling as though everyone's eyes rested on me.
Milo whooped, "Hurry up so I can debate!"
Ms. Manolo raised her eyebrows and stated, "Well, let's get started, shall we? What are your arguments?"
"My point still stands," Warren laughed, "true love doesn't exist, but you can fall in love."
Milo whispered jokingly, "I'm telling Avery..."
"Okay, since no one else has anything to say, do you all believe that soulmates exist?"
I rubbed at the bridge of my nose before announcing, "Um, yeah. I do."
"Elaborate, please," Ms. Manolo urged.
"I mean, according to some Greek beliefs, the first humans had double everything. Four arms, four legs, two noses, and two mouths. Zeus was afraid that they'd attack Mount Olympus, so he split them up and sent them to opposite sides of the world. So now people travel around subconsciously searching for their other half so that they can finally be rejoined," I explained.
Milo smothered her face into my chest to hide her furious blush. I placed my hand on the base of her back while attempting to ignore the class' coos.
Warren interjected, "Khari, I'm happy for you, I really am, but, there's a separate belief that people were born with half of a soul. I don't believe in that. I don't believe that people have one soul. What if they have one soul but there's another person to help them cultivate it? That's what I have with my boyfriend."
Milo's head popped up from my chest to gauge the room's reaction. Little did everyone know, Warren outed himself to the entire class. Some students nodded their heads, others whispered to their friends, and other people simply continued to scroll on their cellphones.
Warren rubbed his arm and smiled gratefully before sitting back down on his desk.
"There's also the belief that two people have an invisible red thread that's connected to them and it ensures that despite all odds, those two people will eventually meet. It doesn't care the gender, race, orientation, or location; the rope remains intact. I don't believe in the idea of people having split souls or any of that hoopla. I just believe in fate," Milo debated.
"Okay, well that's over. Thank you both for your points. Um, Milo, do you have anything else to add? You've been fidgeting for quite some time now," Ms. Manolo laughed.
Milo cooed, "Me and Khari love each other. That's all."
And after only a single school year, Milo Irene Locke had managed to uproot all of the insecurities that I planted and turned them into hope for my own future. She worked her way into every crack, crevice, and corner that I shielded from everyone and built a room for herself. Instead of changing me, Milo encouraged me to better myself in such a way that no one else could have. She didn't save me from myself; she loved me when I didn't love myself.
Self-love isn't some Holy Grail or pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that you can find by repeating positive affirmations and buying new clothes. It doesn't come when you write in a journal or take bubble baths. It takes days, weeks, and years to even become comfortable with yourself. It took me years of digging to even be able to feel secure with my own thoughts. I died millions of times until Milo came around.
She didn't change me. She didn't make me perfect, but she was there to remind me that I was enough. She told me that I was real; that sometimes I could be my own friend. She helped me pick up the pieces of myself and helped me build myself back together again.
She chose me when I didn't even want to choose myself.
* * *
AFTER-NOTE
If you haven't already, go back and vote on past chapters that you may have skipped over!
Thank you sooo much for reading Hawthorne Heights! Writing this book and being able to help you all makes me feel a sense of accomplishment and extreme gratitude. To know that I could possibly change the content of Urban Wattpad excites me tbh. I would never have guessed that so many people would enjoy this book and all of its characters.
When I wrote this book, I wanted to inspire young black girls to be who they want to be no matter their skin tone or their beliefs. Then it turned into a book that inspired black kids with mental illnesses to realize that they are real and valid. It soon turned into attacking all of the stigmas plaguing the black community and that's how this book happened.
"I hope one day you find someone who makes flowers grow in even the darkest parts of you..."
But enough with the formalities, this after-note is to drop a mental and spiritual bomb on you guys. Actually, it's not that deep but it's something for everyone to think about. It's more like life advice.
There's a Buddhist quote that reads, "To hold onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."
Do with that what thou wilt.