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The seasons are what a symphony ought to be: four perfect movements in harmony with each other.
Arthur Rubinstein
Autumn
Zoey’s realization that she loved Max was not what she would have expected, and it was far from what the poets described. It wasn’t like a strike from a bolt of lightning. On the contrary, like the changing of the leaves in autumn, it grew within her heart so gradually that it was easy to overlook the change within her. It wasn’t until that moment on the couch – when he’d spoken of the future and not the past, making Zoey long to know what it would feel like to kiss him – that she began to realize that her feelings for him went beyond friendship. There was a sense of almost inevitability in her love for him, like there was in the changing of the leaves. And like that first breath of sharp, crisp autumn air, her love somehow felt simultaneously like she was opening their eyes to see the world around her for the first time and also like coming home.
But there was also a sort of wistful regret, bordering on fear. Just as one might dread losing the exquisite beauty of autumn to the cold harshness of winter, Zoey was scared of what might lay in store for her, should she embrace her love for Max. She could lose him, could see the delicate splendor she’d found in their love for each other wither away and die, leaving her bereft. But what she hadn’t realized at first – and, in fact, wouldn’t for some time – was that the vibrancy of autumn was deceptive in its fragility. No matter how many times the leaves might fall, the trees that bore them would continue to strengthen and grow, just as Zoey’s love for Max would endure. It seemed that without conscious effort or attention on her part, it had deepened by the day for the entire time she had known him, and so it only strengthened more once she was aware of it.
Zoey couldn’t see that, not at first. So she shied away from looking at what the future might hold if she let herself love him without reservation or regret. Instead, she tried to lose herself in his kiss that reminded her of warm apple cider, heating her from the inside out, the taste of his lips lingering on hers long after their embrace had ended.
She loved him and she knew it, but she was too scared of what the future might bring to allow herself to fully embrace it or enjoy it. And so it was ironically Zoey herself who brought upon the winter she so feared, pushing Max – and her love for him – away, until she feared she’d lost him completely.
Winter
Losing Max was like the coldest days in the depths of winter, when the freezing wind batters at the windows and makes it impossible to believe that the hope of spring could ever follow. Running from the potential of suffering a loss as deep as her mother’s – one she didn’t think she would ever be strong enough to bear – she pushed Max away. Even as she told herself that it would be fine, that she didn’t stand to lose anything, that he would wait for her until she was ready to return to him.
Still reeling from the past and afraid of the future, Zoey turned instead to Simon, wanting to lose herself in someone else’s love while guarding her own heart from the possibility of pain. And he had brought her peace and comfort for a time, making it impossible to regret the time together that they had shared. Although even as she held him in her arms, she knew that she would lose him one day, that theirs was not a love strong enough to carry on. But far from running form that knowledge, she embraced it. Knowing that losing him would be difficult – even painful – but would not bring with it the agony she experienced whenever she thought of losing Max.
Perhaps Zoey could have continued on that path, turning sightless eyes upon the devastation she was bringing upon herself, if Max hadn’t appeared to move on with Rose. “Rose” was a fitting name for such a woman – lovely on the outside with an inner strength that Zoey wasn’t sure she could ever find within herself. And even as she watched him slip away from her, and she had to bite back the sting of jealousy that prompted caustic words to rest upon her tongue, she told herself it was for the best. Rose was beautiful and sweet and kind and perfect. More importantly, Rose was brave. Braver than Zoey was. Rose would hold on to Max and never let him go. Rose wouldn’t push him away. Max would be happy with Rose.
Zoey told herself these things so many times, she almost believed them. She almost let him go. Until the possibility of her life without him in it – his presence, let alone his love – became an all too plausible reality, and she could no longer ignore the feelings she had tried to quell. Left pushed aside and unattended for too long, Zoey convinced she had lost his heart, that his love for her had died from her own rejection and neglect. She couldn’t know that, like a snow-covered field, his love for her didn’t lie dead, only dormant, tending to itself in the shadows, where neither of them could see.
As for her own feelings, she grew strong enough to face – to embrace – them only when it appeared to be too late. She had never felt so defeated or so alone as she did at the airport, when her heart broke as she listened to a heart song she believed to be about Rose. How could she have been so careless, to lose the person and the love that meant the most to her?
That Max’s heart remained true to her was due to the enduring fidelity of his affection, rather than her own care and consideration for his feelings. However, once she realized that she carried his heart still, that his devotion to her remained strong and true, she found the courage to do what she should have done a long time before. She embraced her love for him, no longer swayed by the fear of the future that might prompt her to give way.
At first, a shadow of her former fear whispered in the back of her mind, trying to sway her with barbed promises and empty threats. But this time, she turned to Max for strength, rather than running away. And in so doing, she watched their love grow and bloom again.
Spring
Embracing her love for Max was like opening herself up to the promise of spring. The two of them worked together to discover the meaning behind the heart songs they both could hear, and Zoey was comforted by the realization she no longer felt so alone. Though the pair struggled at times to come to an agreement about how to assist those whose heart songs they heard, there was consolation in knowing that the responsibility of the burden imposed by her powers was no longer hers alone to bear.
When they first came together after their reunion, their lovemaking was tender, almost tentative. Although at first confused by Max’s reserve – he had never been one to hold back his feelings before, at least not for long – Zoey soon realized that there was still a part of him that was cautious, afraid to give of himself fully only to be rejected once more. She couldn’t claim not to understand his trepidation; neither could she blame him for it. She had pushed him away twice before, after all. Still, it broke her heart that the heart once freely given was now cautious and unsure. Not of his love, but of the hers.
Except that Zoey was different than she had been before. She no longer shied away from the promise loving Max might bring. She had told the truth when she swore she would no longer let fear get the better of her, and if he needed her reassurance that she wasn’t planning on going anywhere, she was ready to provide it. He had been strong for her once, when she was scared and alone and at her lowest point. If it was his turn to be afraid, then she would be the strength he needed.
And in the meantime, they had their heart songs, reassuring as words could not, that their love for each other remained unchanged. It didn’t take long for Zoey to realize the awkward vulnerability in knowing her heart was expressing sentiments that she couldn’t hear. Each time she discovered her heart had sung words her mouth couldn’t say, it felt like being stripped bare. She had no way of knowing whether the best or worst side of herself was on display, and she had to trust Max’s word that he would think no worse of her if it should be the latter. I
In the end, she couldn’t begrudge the heart songs she sang that only Max could hear, even if her own ears remained deaf to them. After all, each time he sang of his love for her, it felt like the first time and made her heart skip a beat. She didn’t think that this feeling would ever fade, and if it occasionally caused her to grab Max seemingly out of nowhere to pull him in for a kiss – or more – she could hardly be blamed for giving in to temptation.
Like the first spring buds poking through the soil, she watched as Max opened himself up to her once more, her heart giving him the reassurance that her lips alone could not. She loved him, and she wasn’t going to run from that love ever again.
When he kissed her, he tasted like strawberries, with a sweetness that made it impossible to resist the urge to kiss him again.
Summer
Making love to Max was like basking in the warmth of summer. It was heat and passion, her body slick with sweat, straining for his as he moved against her. It left her gasping for breath, his name a plea on her lips as she begged for the exquisite torture to stop, even as she begged him for more. She couldn’t get enough of him, of these nights together. The faint scrape of stubble against her soft skin causing a shiver of longing to shoot down her spine. The warmth of his mouth, of his tongue, against her bare flesh. His lips, his teeth, his hands…when they trailed over her body, they left her trembling in their wake. Their passion grew no less intense from familiarity. On the contrary, the contentment that came from loving him only added to her desire. She ached for him in his absence and could no longer imagine how fear of the future could have ever prompted her to push him away.
When she pressed her lips against the pulse beating at the base of his neck, she reveled at the taste of salt upon his skin.
Loving Max was lazy days spent in bed together, resting to restore energy before making love again. It was curling up on the couch as they enjoyed quiet movie nights at home. It was watching him out of the corner of her eye as he worked out, feeling inexplicably envious of the beads of sweat that traveled down his bare chest in response to his exertion. Counting down the minutes until his routine was completed and she could join him in the shower. And it was taking long walks on the beach, Zoey’s long-sleeved shirts and cardigans making her stand out from the bikini-clad crowd.
She tried wearing a bikini for Max once. It was a small white slip of a thing, with bright red polka dots, and they hadn’t even made it to the door before he’d stripped it off of her again. In retrospect, she considered it one of the best purchases she’d ever made.
Loving Max was also the warmth that spread through her chest at the sound of his laughter, and the way just hearing his voice made her smile. It was the weight of his hand in hers as they walked side-by-side. It was the heat of his shoulder against her cheek, where she rested her head at night before drifting off to sleep. It was the blush that rushed to her cheeks, causing them to flush with pleasure, when they were in public and he pulled her in for a kiss.
Loving Max was looking to the future and being unable to picture a version of it without him in it. It was in not even wanting to.
He still sang heart songs to her, often at the most inexplicable times, leaving her wondering what had caused him to feel such overwhelming love for her while watching her do such inane, everyday things as brushing her teeth. But she treasured those random moments of tenderness and would not trade them for anything.
Embracing her love for him was choosing to run toward him, rather than away. It was learning how to disagree without leaving, and choosing to trust in their love for each other each and every day. It was recognizing the intense vulnerability of their own unheard heart songs. It was also in respecting that hearing each other’s heart songs could occasionally feel intrusive and unwelcome, and admitting as such out loud did not in any way diminish their love for each other.
Being loved by Max was the endless promise of a cloudless blue sky, as the two of them faced the future together. Although he had first confessed his love to her via the kind of Big Moment that her father had always embraced, being loved by him was a series of quiet, unassuming moments that were all the more precious to her for being so commonplace. It was the soft press of a kiss against the top of her head when she drifted off to sleep beside him on the couch. The warm caress of his breath against her neck when she awoke in the morning, wrapped in his arms. It was in the way he pretended to allow her to bribe him with Fruit Rollups – even though they both knew he could deny her nothing, even without such trickery – and didn’t protest when her laughing kiss stole the sweetness off his lips.
Most of all, loving Max and being loved by him was accepting that there was no need to fear the future any more than there was cause to regret the past. On the contrary, rather than dread the onset of fall, Zoey looked forward to it. She eagerly anticipated crisp autumn nights spent together, planning Halloween and other holidays. (Though he protested his disinterest in wearing a couples costume, he agreed readily enough when she asked.) She looked forward to the winter as well, to long evenings spent curled up with him on the couch. To hot chocolate with marshmallows and fresh baked cookies.
As for the past, while she could regret the time they’d lost due to willful blindness and fear, she realized she might not appreciate the warmth of summer spent in his arms if she’d never felt that chill of winter when she thought she had lost his love forever. For now, it was enough to know that though the seasons ahead of them might wax and wane, the love they shared would last forever.