Magnolia Parks Book Quotes

Because she’s yours. And even when she isn’t yours, she still is.

It’s a hard thing about relationships, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter what type it is, if it’s worth keeping, sometimes you have to say shit you don’t want to, pry it out of your own mouth and toss it over a fence your mate’s building now because that’s what people do when you hurt them—build fences, raise walls, dig ditches, pitfalls, etc.

To anyone whom the more sting-y parts of this book resonate with, anyone who’s grieved or is grieving or has lost or is losing, anyone who worries about the black, empty nothingness . . . everything is going to be okay. Okay?

He will be nothing to me even though he’s everything.

I am good with names, though, always have been. Intentionally. People respond well to that sort of shit. Makes them feel seen, makes them feel validated.

I’d like to feel alone sometimes, I’d like to walk down the street and not worry that the car that’s driving next to me is there to take me,

I love him in a way that’s unravelled me, it’s undone me at the seams of myself, and everything that’s pouring out of me is ugly and awful, maybe because I let out all my good for him?

Do you believe children carry the sins of their fathers? Have you heard of that? Generational sins, ancestral sins—do you believe in those? My brother does. Because our dad did what he did—that’s Julian’s second pass. He’s already wearing Dad’s sins—what’s a few more?

He is—you and me—we’re it, you know? We’re always going to be it, we’ll always come back to each other.[*] So yeah, I might fuck around with other girls, and yeah, I slept with Tavie in New York. And you know, I’ll probably do it again when you do something shitty—but it’s you and me, Dais.

Several days later I decided to go on a good long jog, trusting that Chip would not leave Drake again. As I was on my way back I saw Chip coming down the road in his truck with the trailer on it. He rolled up to me with his window down and said, “Baby, you’re doing so good. I’m heading to work now. I’ve got to go.” I looked in the back, thinking, Of course, he’s got Drake. But I didn’t see a car seat. “Chip, where’s Drake?” she said, and I was like, “Oh, shoot!” She took off without a word and ran like lightning all the way back to the house as I turned the truck around. She got there faster on foot than I did in my truck. I sure hope no one from Child Protective Services reads this book. They can’t come after me retroactively, can they? Chip promised it would never happen again. So the third time I attempted to take a run, I went running down Third Street and made it all the way home. I walked in, and Chip and Drake were gone. I thought, Oh, good. Finally he remembered to take the baby. But then I noticed his car was still parked out front. I looked around and couldn’t find them anywhere. Moments later, Chip pulled up on his four-wheeler--with Drake bungee-strapped to the handlebars in his car seat. “Chip!” I screamed, “What in the heck are you doing?” “Oh, he was crying, and I’d always heard my mom say she would drive me around the neighborhood when I was a baby, and it made me feel better,” Chip said. “He loved it. He fell right to sleep.” “He didn’t love it, Chip. He probably fell asleep because the wind in his face made it impossible to breathe.” I didn’t go for another run for the whole first year of Drake’s life, and I took him to the shop with me every single day. Some people might see that as a burden, but I have to admit I loved it. Having him in that BabyBjörn was the best feeling in the world. Drake was a shop baby. He would come home every night smelling like candles. We had friends who owned a barbecue joint, and their baby always came home smelling like a rack of ribs. I liked Drake’s smell a whole lot better.

I can see for the most part what we were: she was on fire, being burnt alive. I was the silver blanket she wrapped herself in.

for the briefest second it feels like someone kicks a piano down the stairs and it lands on me.

And good men can do terrible things, I know that. But it’s usually by accident and just once, it’s not premeditated and the behaviour doesn’t repeat.

Her staying here isn’t dead unheard of—better her in Henry’s bed than BJ’s—but how many beds will she go through before she circles back to mine? She’ll crawl into it in the morning anyway, that I know. She finds it less threatening to lay on my bed in the daylight, like she doesn’t trust herself with me in the dark.

I’ve kissed all his scars. Most of them are my fault, but I guess isn’t that the way with first loves?

I’m a flower and he’s the whole entire sun and he’ll wilt me away, I know he will—

St Daisy’s Hospital for the Deranged and the Desperate, that’s what she calls it when they come here, and a lot of them do.

There’s a lot about it we don’t understand.

And you know, I’ll probably do it again when you do something shitty—but it’s you and me, Dais.

Fuck it. I’m going Full Beej.

I’ve thought about kissing her for years since the last time we did it, made kissing her again my Everest, and here I am, in her bedroom in the middle of Holland Park with my hand on her waist, kissing her how I’ve wanted to for so long and it’s not what I want and I know why.

She’ll crawl into it in the morning anyway, that I know. She finds it less threatening to lay on my bed in the daylight, like she doesn’t trust herself with me in the dark.

I give Tom England a month.

To compound how fucked up it all was, he bought Tavie Jukes with him to the dinner.

Are you fucking kidding, Parks?” He stares at her with wild eyes. “Is two of us not enough?

Because she’s Magnolia fucking Parks.

Jo arrives after a while with Henry, Taura, BJ and—wait for it— Magnolia.

I’m the girl you’re fucking while you’re thinking of your best friend’s girlfriend.

Beej pushes back from the table, looking from me to Parks. “You can both get fucked.” And then he delivers her his final blow. “I’m going to.

You know I’m the second in command of the second-biggest crime family in England.

And I don’t really think about what I do next, it sort of just happens. I take off my necklace, slip it over her head and onto her. She stares up at me, blinking. “What are you doing?” I shrug. “Yours now.

Full Box Set dinner,

I swear to God if that fucking prick is using my phone charger

You need to tighten the fuck up, kid.

—Romeo Bambrilla in the corner[*

People we won’t work with, no matter what. Sapanta Asad, Mata Tosell, Roisin MacMathan—people who fuck with people how they fuck with people, it’s a no-fly zone for us. Julian would never. I need him to never.

We ended properly probably three years ago, but define “properly”. There’s too much water under the bridge for properly, there is no properly. He and I will only break up properly when one of us is dead. No one likes it when I say that, though, least of all him . . .

I feel like my heart’s been through the garbage disposal while still attached to my body, and I’m looking down at this mangled thing that’s barely beating where the love of my life used to live, and all I can think about is calling him because he loves me but I can’t call him because everything is so fucked up. I am fucked up. I love him in a way that’s unravelled me, it’s undone me at the seams of myself, and everything that’s pouring out of me is ugly and awful, maybe because I let out all my good for him?

Yes.” I sniff. I love him like you might love a star. “Yes, you did?” He stares over at me. I nod. “Yes.” His eyes go funny, sort of blurry—he blinks twice and then he yells “Fuck!” way too loudly to be anything close to discreet. My head pulls back and I tense up. “Shit.” He breathes out, shaking his head. “Fuck—” I watch on in mild horror. “Are you ok—” “Say it.” “What?” I stare over at him. “Can you, please? Say it?” he asks. “Now. Out loud—” He shakes his head at himself. “Just so I’ve heard you say it one time.” I open my mouth to protest for a reason I don’t know why and then I stop myself, swallow and look him in the eye. “I loved you.” He nods a couple of times then closes his eyes for a few seconds, blows some air out of his mouth. “I have to ask—” He looks back over at me, eyes all heavy now. “Was I ever in with a shot?” He is a star. Not the shooting kind. Not some flash-in-the-pan meteorite that burns up on entry into the atmosphere. And stars, they’re undeniably beautiful, kind of magical. Only come out at the nighttime. Easy enough to ignore. In a sky full of them, a single star can be difficult to tell apart from the others. They don’t affect our day-to-day lives, really. You might see it one night and not the next, and it bears no real consequence other than perhaps the sky is a little less wonderful on that particular evening. A star is a star. “In this world,” I give him a delicate look, “with BJ?” I shake my head. “I’m sorry.” “That’s—” He trails, letting out this hollow laugh that I kind of hate. It doesn’t suit him. His regular laugh is so wonderful. “—fine.” He nods. “That’s good to know, actually—” “I’m sorry,” I tell him. He shakes his head again. “No, don’t be.” But you see, the thing about stars is that in another galaxy, that star is also a sun. “If it wasn’t him, it would be you,” I tell him, for better and for worse. He blows some more air out of his mouth and catches my eye. “In another life, yeah?” I nod and offer him a weak smile. “I’ll meet you there.

If he were a MacBook he’d have the swirling rainbow of death on his face.

Go get my fucking money.

but what she strategically leaves out is that we tried to. All the time, and every time we did, she cried.

Raised by her older brother Julian since their parents were murdered, Daisy has never been able to escape the watchful gaze of her gang-lord brother. But Julian’s line of work means that Daisy’s life is . . . complicated.

There is a part of me that worries we’re on a track, loving each other in this stupid way, hating each other in the moments between and we’re just . . . what we are. This disfigured, maladjusted version of a committed couple, but the commitment isn’t necessarily by choice, it’s just an unbreakable habit that makes you feel better and worse in one fell swoop.

can’t tell where loving Romeo ends and being traumatised with Romeo beings. It’s all muddled.

Do you know what original sin is? It’s this theological concept that we were all born innately sinful and my brother loves it.