Page 49 - It Ends with Us

rea ding the journa ls I started rea ding all tho se mont hs ago.

I hop pathet ically to my closet, onl y tripping onc e. Luckily, I catch
mysel f on my dres ser. Onc e I ha ve the journa l in ha nd , I ho p back to
the bed and get comfortable.
I ha ve nothi ng bet ter to do for the nex t week no w tha t I can’t work.
I mi ght as wel l commisera te over my past whi le I’m forced to
commisera te in the pres ent .

Dear Ellen,
You ho sting the Os car s was the great est thi ng to hap pen to TV las t year. I
do n’t thi nk I ever told you that . The vac uuming skit made me piss my pan ts.
Oh, an d I recruited a new Ellen follower today in Atlas . Be fore you star t
judg ing me for al lowing hi m inside my ho use ag ai n, let me explai n ho w that
cam e ab out.

After I let hi m tak e a sho wer he re yesterday, I di dn ’t see hi m ag ai n las t
night . But thi s morning, he sat by me on the bus ag ai n. He seemed a little
hap pier than the day before, becau se he slid into the seat an d ac tual ly smiled at
me.
I’m not gonna lie, it was a little weird seeing hi m in my dad’ s clothe s. Bu t

the pan ts fit hi m a lot better than I tho ught the y were going to.
“Guess what ?” he sai d. He lean ed for ward an d unzipped hi s bac kpac k.
“What ?”
He pulled out a bag an d han de d it to me. “I found the se in the gar ag e. I
tried to clean the m up for you becau se the y were covered in old di r t, but I can ’t
do much witho ut wat er.”
I he ld the bag an d stared at hi m suspiciously. It’s the most I’d ever he ard

hi m say at once. I final ly looked do wn at the bag an d opened it. It looked like a
bunch of old garde ning tools.
“I saw you di gging with that sho vel the othe r day. I was n’t sure if you had
an y ac tual garde ning tools, an d no one was using the se, so . . .”
“Than k you,” I sai d. I was kind of in sho ck. I used to hav e a trowel, but the
plas tic broke of f the han dl e an d it star ted giving me blisters. I as ked my mothe r

for garde ning tools for my bir thd ay las t year an d whe n she bought me a full-
sized sho vel an d a ho e, I di dn ’t hav e the he ar t to tell he r it’s not what I neede d.
Atlas cleared hi s throat an d the n, in a much quieter voice, he sai d, “I know
it’s not like a real gift. I di dn ’t buy it or an ythi ng. Bu t . . . I wan ted to give
you somethi ng. You know . . . for . . .”