I wake up to my phone buzzing noisily against my pillowcase.
Groaning, I rub my eyes and grab it, sitting up to see a sea of notifications as far as the thumb can scroll.
On Christmas?
I throw my legs over the edge of the bed, the marble floor cool underneath my feet as I tap on the link that’s being shared a million times.
Caroline’s article.
My heart clenches as it opens. When the page loads and I see the title, my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline.
“My Twelve Days of Arden James.”
I steady myself before I keep reading.
I’ve always thought of her as two separate people.
There’s Arden James. The girl you all see. The one on the covers of magazines and in the movies. The one who lives in the modern and somewhat cold mansion on the Pacific and who seems to go out more than she stays in. The enigma.
Then there’s Arden. Just Arden. The girl from Barnwich, Pennsylvania, who cares more deeply about the people she loves than she likes to let on and who wears her heart right on her sleeve.
I would know, because that Arden has been just about everything a person can be to me.
My best friend.
My confidante.
My first crush.
At times she’s been the very last person I’ve wanted to see… but most times she’s been the first.
There’s one thing that I’ve known to be true through it all, though:
I have always, always, loved her.
I loved her when she gave me her jacket to tie around my waist when I peed my pants in third grade. I loved her when she put hot sauce in Matt Fincher’s chocolate milk after he made fun of my braids. I loved her when she used to dream about a life grander than the one she had.
And I loved her when she moved to California and left me behind, standing on the sidewalk with tears staining my cheeks. I think that’s when I loved her the most. It kind of sucks that sometimes you don’t really know how you feel about a person until they’re gone.
So when she finally, finally came home for Christmas, it felt like a second chance at rediscovering my Arden (well, after I got over wanting to punch her). And these last twelve holidates spent with her in Barnwich were more than I could have possibly hoped for.
Tears fill my eyes as I read about all our adventures around Barnwich, seeing it all through Caroline’s eyes. She brings the town to life, but even more than that, she brings me to life. A me I actually recognize, even if I’m still piecing her together.
I don’t know what will happen to me and Arden, but what I do know now is there’s really only ever been one Arden. She’s just still figuring out exactly which parts belong to her, which parts belong to all of you, and which parts never belonged at all but were simply part of a Hollywood narrative that was written for her when she was far too young to know that she never needed it in the first place.
Because that’s the other truth. She never needed it. For me, she never needed to be anyone else but her. I hope in reading this, you’ll feel the same way.
I’m so grateful for all the different ways I’ve been able to fall in love with Arden.
I never got to ask her a twelfth question on our last day together, but the one I have now is the one I wish I’d asked most.
Arden, do you think you’ll ever come back to Barnwich?
Maybe one day you will. Maybe you never will again.
Either way, I know a part of me will always be waiting.
I drop my phone onto my bed and lie back into my pillow, my heart pounding heavily in my chest as I let her words sink in.
Caroline sees me.
Caroline loves me.
Caroline’s waiting.
Do you think you’ll ever come back to Barnwich?
And that’s when it hits me.
I don’t have to do this again.
I’m the one making the decisions now. About what I do. About where I live. About how I live. I don’t have to give up my life, my home, and the people I love to have a career. Yeah, I might miss out on things sometimes on one side or the other, but not everything. Not the things that matter. My roots can dig deep into the ground and still stretch a long way, like Grams said. I can’t have everything, but I can have a hell of a lot more than I did.
I can have…
I sit bolt upright, my eyes darting to my still-packed suitcase sitting in the corner of my room.
… Caroline.