Page 46 of Summertime Friends

I chime in as he speaks, “We hadn’t even spoken about the future yet.”

“And the way your interactions were cold or distant at times. She didn’t know how or why, but I refused to believe her. I went to bat for you every time she told me to call it with you because I love you and truly thought you felt the same about me. . .”

I don’t bother to stop the salty tears falling down my face.

“I’ve been nothing but good to you.”

I slightly cringe, ignoring how he is to me around his mom.

“I know, Brandon. If I,” I tap my chest, “Was someone else, I could have loved you like that, easily and deeply.”

Brandon shuts his eyes, scrunching his face in agony. “Do you love him?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is Emme. Either you do or don’t.” Brandon comes to sit next to me on the floor. “Love isn’t complicated. It’s rather simple, actually.”

“How?”

“It just is. Stop guarding yourself, and you’ll see.” His voice is sweet and tender. A one-eighty from the ridgidness he exuded seconds ago.

“I don’t know how to uncomplicate it. I watched it hurt and break people. It broke me before I ever got a chance.”

“In life, some things deserve second chances. While love provides us the avenue for a second chance, you need to give the feeling a second chance. I wish I were that chance, not only for you, but for me, but we aren’t.”

“Did I waste your time?”

“Don’t think that. We’re twenty-eight. There is a lot of life left to live. These memories with you, maybe not this one, I’ll cherish them forever. It may take me a moment to get over you, but you never wasted my time.” Brandon takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling my face to look at his. “However, it’ll be a waste of your time if you don’t learn from this.”

“Okay,” I reply, my shoulders tense as I take in what he said. I have to learn from this—more than you don’t have to say yes to a proposal just because it’s public. “Do you need to leave right now?”

“It would be for the best.”

“Can you stay? Not for the night, but for a little longer. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.”

“Yeah, I can.” I’m surprised he says yes. His anger is still radiating, but I don’t think he wants this to be over yet, either.

Brandon scoots closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer to him. I lean my head on his shoulder as he kisses the top of my head.

“I’m sorry, Brandon.”

We sit there for an hour, Brandon holding me while I feel way too much. It’s quiet, but I think he cried too.

After our tears have dried out, Brandon picks me up, carrying me to the couch, placing me on it, where I curl up into the fetal position. He covers me with my favorite fuzzy blanket with dogs on it. I lay there, emotionless, eyes glazed over, exhausted from tonight as he leaves.

I climb off the couch, heading to my bedroom closet like I tried to do hours earlier before Brandon stopped me.

A box is on the top shelf, behind a basket of belts and scarves. I stand on my tippy toes and remove the basket. Stretching further to reach the box, I pull it forward and off the shelf.

My memory box.

As a girl, my mom started this, keeping artwork and trinkets from my childhood. At first glance, you would think it was a shrine to me, but now it’s a shrine of my memories.

Letters Natalie and I passed in high school. Photos of us from middle and high school dances—our outfits are tragic; Natalie would die if they ever saw the light of day now. I put aside these memories.

Reaching for what I came here for. Inside this memory box lies my relationship with Liam. Photos of the places we’ve been. Images showing how happy andin lovewe were. Cards from my birthday and holidays. Little trinkets that he would send me with messages of ‘this made me think of you.’ The first book he annotated.

Three years ago in September, two months after we ended, I collected all of these items and placed them in this box. That night was the last time I allowed myself to shed tears over him. I closed the lid and put the box in my closet. I haven’t touched the box since then—well, until right now.

---