by Lisa De Jong
“Can we just have ice cream?” I ask, breaking the silence. When I was younger, my mom and I used to eat ice cream for supper when I was sick. I think a heart full of excruciating pain qualifies.
She looks at me and smiles. “Yeah, I just bought two cartons of Ben & Jerry’s this afternoon. What kind do you want?”
“Did you happen to get Cherry Garcia?”
“Of course, I did,” she says, patting my knee.
We sit under the same large blanket, eating from our two large bowls of ice cream. It doesn’t take all of my pain away, but I don’t feel alone with it. I still can’t believe that Beau loves me. For so long, I’ve wanted him to want me, and maybe he has that whole time. Watching Beau leave tomorrow, especially after everything that happened today, is going to be really hard.
Chapter 3
I don’t want to watch Beau leave, but I can’t let him go without seeing him one more time. I know I can call him whenever I need to, but there’s just something about being able to see him that makes me feel so much better.
I’m going to miss him, more than I probably even realize right now. We’ve gone through all the major phases of our lives together, but I’ve decided to sit this one out. When I chose not to go to college, I didn’t think I would regret the decision, but knowing Beau’s leaving without me in exactly twenty-six minutes is filling me with uneasiness. Things never seem to hit me until they are right in front of my face. Just like everything else, I’ve pretended that Beau will always be by my side, even though I knew he’d be leaving soon. In some ways, it’s easier to pretend, but right now all that time spent convincing myself that this day would never come is making my heart ache.
I remember the day I moved into this house as if it was yesterday.
My mom is busy unpacking boxes in the kitchen, and all I seem to do is get in her way, so I decide to walk out to the backyard to swing on the old tire that hangs from the big oak tree. I’m in my own world, a little sad that we’ve left my old neighborhood and friends. I’m not swinging that high; I’m having enough fun just digging my toes into the dirt. My mom’s going to be mad because I’m getting my good tennis shoes dirty, but I don’t care. I’m sick of moving, and I don’t care about these stupid shoes.
I see a ball roll past my feet, stopping right in front of me. When I look up, there’s a boy in dirty grass stained blue jeans and a navy blue Power Rangers t-shirt. He has longish dark hair and smudges of mud all over his face. When he smiles, I laugh; he’s missing three of his front teeth and looks like one of my mom’s Halloween creations.
“What are you laughing at?” he asks, looking behind his back.
I giggle again. “Nothing.”
“That swing isn’t safe, you know. See that up there?” he says, pointing at the branch that was hanging on to the trunk by a small piece of wood. “It’s going to fall soon. That’s what my mom says.”
I ignore him, continuing to sway back and forth on the swing. Boys can be so dumb, and I’m only a little bit off of the ground. If I fall, it won’t hurt that much.
“What’s your name?” he finally asks.
“Kate,” I say, shielding the sun from my eyes. “What’s yours?”
“Beau. Like a bow and arrow. My dad likes to hunt,” he says, smiling again.
I don’t know much about hunting, because I don’t have a dad to tell me about it. I never have, and it doesn’t bother me until other kids talk about their dads.
I climb out of the tire and straighten my shorts. “This town sucks.”
Beau shrugs. “I think you might like it here.”
And I did. I’d really liked the house and the town, and after a few weeks, I’d really liked Beau.
He’s been one of my best friends ever since.
That was the first time he rescued me. That branch did snap a few days later, narrowly missing my head. Beau didn’t say I told you so; he just helped me up and went to get my mom. I liked that he didn’t end up to being the type of boy who had to be right because I wasn’t the type of girl who liked to be wrong.
I hear a car door slam shut outside and look out the window to see Beau staring at my front door. I feel bad about how we left things yesterday. From the expression on his face, I can tell he’s conflicted too. Everything feels out of place, and I can’t shake the feeling that our relationship will never be the same.
I can’t take my eyes off him as he turns towards his door. I need to go out there and say my goodbyes, but I’m not sure where I should even start. Yesterday he told me that he’s in love with me, and I pushed him away. Should I just go out there and pretend like nothing happened?
I really screwed this one up.
I throw on a pair of jean shorts and my hooded Iowa Hawkeye sweatshirt. That’s where Beau’s going to school, and this is my unspoken way of supporting him. I take a few deep breaths and open my front door just as Beau comes out of his house again. Our eyes lock and we both stand motionless. I want to run to him and beg him not to leave, but I don’t want to hold him back any more than I already have. I don’t want him to know how much him leaving town is hurting me.
He walks toward his truck, placing another box into the back before walking in my direction. I think my heart stops beating for a second; I’m so nervous. He’s wearing a grey Hawkeye t-shirt with his faded jeans resting low on his hips. I try to focus on that and not the intense, dark look in his eyes, but those eyes have always been hard for me to avoid.
He pulls me into his arms, burying his nose in my hair. “Good morning,” he whispers. I rest my cheek against his chest and close my eyes, listening to the sound of his voice.
“Good morning,” I mumble, not bothering to look up at him.
“Kate, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have thrown all that stuff at you right before I leave for school,” he says, running his hands up and down my back, “but I meant every word.”
This is kind of what I was hoping wouldn’t happen. I was hoping we could just forget it all.
“Beau, I care for you, but things are different between us. You’re my friend, and I can’t handle a relationship with anyone right now,” I say, trying to look up at his face, but he’s holding me so close to his chest that I can’t move.
“I’ll wait for you,” he says, finally letting me out of his grasp. He takes my face in his cool hands and kisses my forehead. I’m going to miss that too.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask, trying to change the subject. Just asking him causes my chest to tighten.
“I have two more boxes in the house that I have to grab, and then I’m done,” he replies, looking back over at his house. I expected to see his mom outside fussing over him, but I haven’t seen her once this morning.
I grab his hand and start walking up the steps. He seems hesitant. “Come on, I’ll help you grab the last of your boxes.”
He smiles, but it’s a sad one. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
I ignore him as I continue up the steps. As soon as I open the front door, I can smell fresh chocolate chip cookies. Mrs. Bennett must be baking.
“Oh hey, Kate, would you like a cookie?” she asks, taking a pan out of the oven.
“No, thanks. I just had breakfast.” It wasn’t the truth but my stomach is so tied up in knots that I’ll be surprised if I can eat anything for the next week.
“Well, I’m going to send some home for you and your mom. Jeff and I don’t need to eat them all,” she smiles, rolling more dough into balls.
I follow Beau to his bedroom, which looks empty compared to what it was just a few days ago. Most of his Iowa posters are gone, and his charcoal grey comforter is missing from his bed. My eyes fly to the bulletin board that hangs above his desk, and I notice that the pictures of the two of us are also missing.
“I’m going to put all of them up in my room,” he says, coming to stand in front of me. I bite my lip to hold back a smile. It makes me feel better knowing that he doesn’t want to forget about me.
&
nbsp; “Beau, why is your mom baking cookies so early in the morning?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “She wants to make sure I have enough to eat at school. I swear, she thinks I’m going to kindergarten all over again.” Beau’s mom reminds me of one of those sixties sitcom moms; always doing special things for him and his father. I spent a lot of time here growing up. In fact, I think I ate more suppers here than I did at my own house.
“So, where are the boxes you need help with?” I ask, glancing around the room.
“You really are trying to get rid of me,” he laughs, pointing towards his closet.
Of course I don’t want to get rid of him. I just don’t know how long I can hold the tears back. I almost have myself convinced that this is just another day for the two of us, but once reality hits I’m going to be a mess, and the clock is ticking.
I help him out to the truck with the last two boxes and stand silent with my hands tucked into my back pockets. This is the moment I’ve been dreading.
“Well,” I say, staring nervously at my feet, “I guess this is goodbye . . . for now.”
He places his hands on my shoulders, gently rubbing his thumbs against my neck. “This is see you later. I could never say goodbye to you. Ever,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead.
My eyes fill with tears that had threatened me all morning. “I’m going to miss you, Beau,” I cry, wiping my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
“I’ll come home next weekend. I promise.”
I shake my head. “No, you have to live your life. Please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
“Kate, don’t try to push me away,” he says, pulling me into his chest.
“I’m not. I’m just letting you go,” I cry. The longer Beau holds onto the idea of us, the longer it will take him to find something better. He deserves all the good the world will give him. He deserves the love of someone who can give him everything. I have to let him go so he can find that.
“Stop, Kate. I’m coming back for you every weekend.”
“No, listen to me. I think it would be best if we spent some time apart. I need to work on myself, and I want you to worry about other things besides me,” I say, feeling his hands grip the back of my sweatshirt a little tighter. I look up at his face to see his eyes are glossed over. This sucks.
“Kate—”
“No, just don’t. I’ll call you every day, but please, do this for yourself,” I plead. This is the hardest freaking thing I’ve ever had to do. I want Beau to come back every weekend and see me so that I never have to go a day without seeing him, but I’m not going to be selfish. My future was taken from me, and I can’t take his too.
“I’m coming back once a month,” he says, letting go of the back of my shirt. The front door of his house opens, causing us both to step back. His mom and dad are following him to Iowa City to bring his furniture so it must be time for him to leave.
He walks to the driver’s side door without taking another look in my direction. My heart falls into my stomach.
He climbs in and rolls down the window, using his index finger to motion me over to him. I hesitantly step forward, scared to death that he may say something I don’t want to hear. When I’m close enough that he can touch me, he cups my cheek in his hand. “I’ll play this game by your rules. But, Kate, remember that I can’t shut my feelings off just because you tell me to,” he says, putting his hand back on his steering wheel.
I stand back and watch him pull out of the driveway, waving as he disappears down the street with his parents following close behind. I want to crumble to the ground and bury my head in my hands, but I run into my empty house instead, not stopping until I’m face down on my bed. My body shakes as I let the tears flow for what seems like hours. For a moment, I regret telling him not to come home every weekend, but Beau can’t start moving forward with his life if he’s always looking back at me.
I stay in bed for the rest of the day, alternating between staring at the ceiling and crying. It’s the same thing I did after I left Drew Heston’s house that night. In fact, I stayed like that for days, telling my mom I had the flu. I’d always been a strong girl before, barely shedding a tear over anything, but things have really changed the last two years. I feel like I’m crying more often than not.
I often wonder what would have happened if I’d told someone what Drew did to me that night.
Drew finally stops moving, making a loud grunting sound that makes me sick to my stomach. I’m numb and broken. I feel the sweat from his forehead dripping on my back, and it disgusts me. He crawls off my body and throws my clothes at me before walking out the door. I’m almost too scared to move, but I do it anyway. My whole body aches as I climb out of the bed and pull my underwear back up my legs.
When I see the blood smeared on the inside of my thighs, I start to cry so hard that my vision becomes blurred. It’s a reminder of what he took from me and what I can never get back. I pull my jeans on and button them before adjusting my shirt and bra. I don’t waste any time before throwing open his bedroom door and glancing down the hall. I don’t see or hear anyone around. I just have to find Morgan and get out of here before anyone else sees me.
I’m almost to the stairs when a hand wraps tightly around my arm, pulling me back until I’m pressed against a hard, strong chest. I’m afraid to turn around and see who stands behind me, so I pinch my eyes shut and wait.
“Don’t even think about telling anyone about tonight. You wanted it, and they wouldn’t believe you anyway.”
My body is shaking so much that I can’t talk. I just want to go home and try to forget tonight ever happened.
He tightens his grip on my arms, digging his fingers into my skin. “Did you hear me, Kate? No one will believe you,” he repeats. Tears are welling up in my eyes because deep down I know he’s right.
I nod, waiting for him to let me go. I hate the roughness in his voice. I hate the feel of his hands on me. I fucking hate Drew Heston.
He loosens his grip and pushes me forward causing me to stumble. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
I quickly run down the steps and out the front door into the rain, not looking back once. When I find Morgan, she’s too drunk to realize that anything is wrong. Her boyfriend drives us home as I slump down in the backseat, letting the tears fall. I feel used and dirty. Why did he choose me?
If Morgan hadn’t been drunk that night, she might have noticed how fragile I was. Would I have told her? If my mom had been home that night when I opened the door, would I have told her? If Beau had seen me that night, he would have known.
But there was no one.
Chapter 4
I’m scheduled to work today, and the distraction couldn’t be more welcome. After watching Beau drive away yesterday, my heart can’t handle another heart-breaking, soul-shattering day like that. Besides, I care about Beau too much, and I never want to see that pained look in his eyes again and know that I was the one who caused it.
I pull on my dark blue jeans and my red Bonnie’s Diner t-shirt then look at myself in the mirror. Just as I predicted, my eyes are puffy and red from almost twenty-four hours of marathon crying. I pull my hair into a high ponytail and rub some concealer under my eyes before applying foundation to the rest of my face. The last thing I want is all of my customers asking what’s wrong with me. It’s easier to act that it’s just another day.
When I’m satisfied with how I look, I grab my keys and head out the door. Without even realizing what I’m doing, I stand with my eyes fixated on Beau’s house. I wonder what he’s doing right now. Does he miss Carrington yet? Does he like his new roommate?
I can’t let myself dwell on it, though. It’s time to get in the car and face my new normal. It just sucks that my normal keeps getting more and more unpleasant. I once thought I had everything, but ever since that night I’ve been unhappy and alone. Beau has been my only exception for the past two years and now he’s gone.
I’m lost.
What’s the point?
When I pull into the parking lot behind the diner, I put the car in park and rest my forehead against the steering wheel. Just thinking about making it through the day alone makes it difficult to breathe. It’s like someone is constantly sitting on my chest.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to get some air in my lungs to ease the panic, but I’m struggling to gain control. Sometimes it helps to close my eyes and imagine I’m sitting on the beach looking out onto the lake, but I’m so overwhelmed I can’t even bring myself to go there today. Not having control of my emotions is like being in a speeding car without brakes, or like a vice gripping my ribs and squeezing. I feel lost and desperate, and I have no idea when this is all going to stop.
Maybe it never will.
When I’m finally able to feel my hands again, I turn off the ignition and make my way inside. I clock in and wrap my black apron around my waist. It’s just before seven and the morning crowd will be filing in soon. Our town only has two restaurants and Bonnie’s is the only one open for breakfast. It’s usually full of farmers who come in to compare harvest notes or other locals looking to avoid their own kitchens. The work is easy, and a little mundane, but that’s all I can handle right now. There are three waitresses each morning, and we each take eight tables. I prefer the tables towards the front window because people tend to chat less when they’re staring out at the passersby.
I spot my usual group of retired farmers at the table closest to the door. They love to come in right at seven in the morning and stick around until well after nine. I don’t mind them because they can go on and on about the current price of corn and don’t ask for much as long as I keep their coffee cups full. There are four of them, and they always order the same thing for breakfast every morning. I can honestly say there are some days I don’t speak one word to them for the entire two hours they’re here.
