Page 45 of Years in the Making

“Give me the key,” I say emotionlessly to my dad. He looks from my hand back to my face like he doesn’t know what to do. “I need to be alone.”

He nods and fishes the key out of his pocket. I look at the box he’s holding in his other hand one more time, then turn and walk back down the trail.

At the car, I pull my phone out of the front pocket of my backpack. There are several unread texts from Nellie, and I open them now.

I focus on the last one she sent this morning.

Library Girl

I thought you were one of the good guys.

I always did too, but grief mixed with anger does things to a person. Right now I hate her name on my phone. I hate that I spent so many of my mom’s final hours with her, and I despise my family for making me resent every fucking smile she flashed my way.

Guess not.

I turn off the phone, shove it back into my backpack, lock the door, slide the key into the wheel well, turn, and walk towards the road. I have no idea where I’m going, but I can’t stay here and I certainly won’t be going home.

SEVENTEEN

NELLIE

Enviro Guy

Guess not.

I stare at my phone for what feels like an eternity. I don’t understand what’s going on. His brother must be messing with us. Teddy would never go three days without a word and then answer me like this. The guy who showed up uninvited at my house to take care of me while I was sick wouldn’t do this.

Unless…An intrusive thought slithers in.Unless you were too clingy. Maybe he woke up the next morning and decided it was all too much too fast. Or it was all too much and not enough because we weren’t having sex. But he was the one who was abiding by my “let’s go slow” request better than I was. He was the one who stopped anything from getting too hot and heavy.

I tell my coworker I’ll be right back and head outside. I need air. Maybe by the time I get out there, he’ll have texted me an apology. He’ll let me know that Will stole his phone. He’llapologize for ghosting me for the last three days, and then he’ll tell me he’s planned a picnic or a movie night.

But when I get outside, there is no new message. No apology or clarification. Just those two words jumping off my screen.Guess not.

For the next week I mope around work and home, obsessively checking my phone, talking myself in and out of reaching out to his sister or dropping by his place before my mom asks what’s wrong. When I tell her, she doesn’t seem to want to believe me. “That boy had it bad,” she insists. “There’s no way he’d just disappear.”

I thought maybe he had it as bad as I did, but the proof is in the text. It’s in the lack of any new texts. It’s in the absolute absence of my social life or my desire to get out of bed. The proof is in what I can only describe as a broken heart.

Four Years Later

Marley is home from an extended assignment regaling us with tales of lust in the most recent conflict zone she was sent to.

“He was hung like a jack rabbit,” Marley whispers, demonstrating with her fingers.

Izzy asks the question I’m thinking. “How do you know how hung or not hung a jack rabbit is?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” Marley laughs. “But he sure moved like one.” She gives us a look, and we both crack up. “The way he kissed should have given him away, but I’d been shot at like six times that day and needed something to take the edge off.”

“And did it?” I ask.

“It did not,” she confirms solemnly. “He seemedto have a good time though, so I’ll consider that my good deed for the month.”

“How was that date last night, Nell?” Izzy asks, switching her attention to me.

A nice guy, Kenneth Smith, had taken me out to a movie and a nice dinner and proceeded to bore me to tears. But he did kiss well, so I’d said yes to another date. “There’s potential there.”

“Is that what you want there to be?” Izzy prods.

“Maybe she just wants to get her rocks off and not chase potential, Iz,” Marley scoffs.

---