Page 60 of When We Were Younger

I slink out of bed, careful not to disturb Stephen as he sleeps peacefully under the covers.

On the dresser, I find a pair of sweatpants. I slip them up over my hips, rolling and knotting them as tight as I can so they'll stay put.

On his desk, there's an old notebook and a mechanicalpencil. I quietly flip to a free page and scribble down the only thoughts in my head.

I pick up my heels, and I look at Stephen.

The boy I loved. The man I'm breaking.

I stare and I cry. I take pictures of him in my mind so I can remember him just as he is.

Happy. Sated. In love with me.

And then, I do what I do best.

I just bolt.

33

STEPHEN

Stephen,

I have to go. I'm so sorry.

I promise to think about you.

-Your Dorothea

I find the note at 3 a.m., right on the bed where she was supposed to be.

I knew she'd go. I knew the risk of her running was high.

I heard her on the dock. If she had to, she'd make the same decisions over again. I get it. I respect it.

But it feels like a devastating blow to the chest anyway.

I eat breakfast with my family. I tell them Dorothea went to have breakfast with the McKenna's and she'll be back later. I watch Sadie open her presents and squeal over all of Santa's bounty. I shower, and I tell my parents I'm heading to the next town over for orange juice, since Delilah wouldn't stopmentioning mimosas.

I need to get out of here. Go for a walk, get some fresh air, some perspective. I can't be around all this festive holiday joy right now. Not when I want to find a mountaintop and scream at the top of my lungs.

In the mudroom by the side door, I slip my feet into my sneakers. I lean over to tie them, and when I look up, Dad is standing there staring down at me.

"Can I help you?" I ask as I push myself up to standing. Dad crosses his arms over his chest.

"Where is she?" he asks, taking a slight step to the side, essentially blocking my exit point.

"I told you, she went for breakfast up on McKenna Mountain," I say as I attempt to sidestep him. He doesn't let me by.

"I know what you told me, now tell me where she really went." Dad's voice comes out stern. It's the voice he used to use on me when I screwed up as a kid, like the night Dorothea and I stole a bottle of his whiskey, and he spent the morning scolding me. Not mad, just disappointed. The ultimate dad burn.

The thing is, I'm too pissed off to deal with his dad voice right now. Not pissed at Dorothea, necessarily, but pissed off all the same. I get why she left. I get why she runs. I fucking get her, so why does she not get me? Why didn't she give me the opportunity to go with her,again?

Why will no one give me a goddamn chance? Not even the man in front of me.

"Why haven't you retired yet?" I cross my arms on my chest, mimicking Dad's stance.

"Excuse me?" he says, faltering for a moment. I know I've caught him off guard, and even though he quickly straightens and returns to his 'disappointed Dad' look, I've given myself a chance at the upper hand.

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