Rhett
I looked out over the small lake that Harley and I parked next to often. It was the summer before our senior year of high school and everything seemed perfect. The lake was one of the very few places two teens could disappear without parents hovering. It was peaceful, quiet, and rarely used by the landowners.
I may only have one sibling, but I’m part of a huge family, and that meant very little privacy. There are seven kids and nine adults, which consisted of parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents within my family. They may not all be blood relations, but I’m telling you they’re my family. They’re the people who have my back no matter what. They are the people who protect me and stand by me, whether right or wrong, no questions asked. I had their full support.
Which means, I never, and I do mean never, got time alone. They’re nosy too, always paying too much attention when they should be living their own lives. Very little slipped by them, and that wasn’t always a bad thing. But as a guy looking for a little alone time with my girl, those were some of the times I wished I was an only child with a small family.
The windows to my truck were rolled down and I could hear the crickets chirping in the night. It was the only sound, other than Harley and me. I reached out across the front seat of my truck in search of Harley’s hand and found it resting on the bench seat beside me. Without a second of delay, we wove our fingers together, and that movement alone tugged at my heart. I still remember the first time I saw her. She was in a pair of coveralls, her hair all wild with pieces of hay sticking out here and there. Her face was dirty with the remnants of a hard day’s work. She had her delicate hands hidden by a pair of big old work gloves that looked two sizes too big.
She was taking in one deep breath after another as if she’d just ran a marathon. She looked wrecked, yet my only thought was I had never seen a prettier girl. After that, she’d quickly become someone I wanted to surround myself with as often as possible. Harley held my heart; she had from that moment on.
We’d always been so in tune with one another. Everything we did, we did together, and I couldn’t help but feel as if something was off between us. As we sat side by side in the cab of my truck, each passing second that feeling of something being wrong only grew. Harley had been quiet all night, and it gave me this crazy tight, restricted feeling in my chest. I didn’t much care for it, because everything had always been so easy for the two of us. It was the part I loved the most. Nothing was forced; it just flowed without pause, like we’d known each other our entire lives and there was never something we couldn’t share with the other.
Not only was this girl my love, she was my best friend too.
“You okay?” I asked, finally forcing myself to look in her direction. That hollow space inside me, the one I’d been trying to ignore, was now so overpowering I began to feel sick from the force of it. I’d been avoiding it for the last thirty minutes, only I could no longer overlook it. All the rambling I’d done to lighten the mood had accomplished nothing, so now there we were.
“I’m not okay,” she whispered in the darkness, still staring ahead. I could see the glistening tears in her eyes, and my stomach tensed even more. It resembled a knot deep within me that literally felt like a burning inferno. I wasn't sure my heart could take hearing her say something like she no longer felt the same way I did.
She and I had been inseparable since we were twelve. Friends, grown into more, and at this point I knew I’d never truly feel for someone else what I felt for her. She was my girl.
“Talk to me,” I insisted, even though on the inside I was screaming, please don't say the words.
“I have to leave.”
For a moment I just stared at her, wondering what the hell she meant by that. Leave? No, leaving wasn’t an option.
“I don’t want to, but I have to.”
“What do you mean you have to leave?” I turned in my seat to face her and tug on her hand, forcing her to finally look at me. “Where are you going?”
My sweet girl, with tears flowing along her cheeks, her lower lip trembling as she did her very best to remain in control, suddenly fell apart. “We’re moving. My father was transferred.”
I had never felt the kind of pain I’d felt in that single moment, like someone was tearing at my chest in search of my heart. My throat was so tight, I wasn't sure I could swallow, breathe, or even speak.
“They’ve decided we’re leaving on Saturday morning so that we can search for a house, or even a condo as a temporary place until we can find something better. He has to be there to start his new position in three weeks.”
“Where is there?” The question was a hoarse whisper, the rawness I felt overpowering.
Maybe it wasn't so bad; maybe I could visit, or she could too.
“Seattle,” she replied, and that pain I’d felt earlier tripled.