by Laura Miller
He puts his arm around me, and I breathe in the smell of his bedsheets. I’m going to miss the smell of his bed...and his room—his dumb, boy room, with its old Spiderman comforter and drum set and boy things. It reminds me of all those long nights we would spend holed up in there, eating chicken and dumplings and trying to make it across the Oregon Trail without one of us getting dysentery.
I’m going to miss it all. But mostly, I’m going to miss him.
I love him.
I always have.
Vannah: Thanks for walking me home.
Eben: Thanks for rescuing my Saturday night.
Vannah: :)
Vannah: Can you tell me some more of the story?
Eben: Okay
Eben: So, the boy thought about what he wanted his one wish to be. There were so many things he wanted: a dirt bike, a four-wheeler, a new lawn mower. Hell, maybe even wings to fly or superhuman strength or x-ray vision.
Vannah: What would he use x-ray vision for?
Eben: Don’t worry about it.
Vannah: Lol!
Eben: Anyway, he thought real hard about it, and then it came to him.
Vannah: What did he pick?
Eben: To be continued...
Vannah: Eben!
Eben: Good night, V.
Vannah: Sweet dreams, E.
Chapter Eleven
Salem
(Sixteen Years Old)
Day 4,039
“You leave tomorrow.”
We’re at Hogan’s slab, just standing on the cool concrete, side by side, staring at that big moon.
“No,” she says.
“No what?”
“No, I don’t leave.”
I give her a confused look, but something inside me also springs to life.
“I’ve decided I’m going to stay here. I’m just going to disappear into the wind and stay here forever.”
My chest deflates, as I chuckle softly and take her hand.
The action throws her off, I can tell.
I just figure that if she can put her head on my chest, then I can hold her hand. And plus, I feel as if I’m losing her. I feel as if I’m losing control. And the more time I spend with her, the more I think the boundary between friends and more starts to blur.
Her head is lowered. Her focus is on her hand, now intertwined with mine. I like the way her hand feels, but mostly, I like the way it makes me feel—like I could float away if I weren’t tethered to her.
After a few heartbeats, she looks up. She’s breathtaking. I’ve never said that about someone...or even thought that about anyone. But that’s the only word that fits. Breathtaking.
Her eyes catch on mine. I study the greens, the golds, the browns that swirl around her thoughts. It’s as if they’re pulling me in.
She doesn’t move. She just keeps her wandering stare in mine. My breaths quicken. My heart beats faster and faster.
I move my face closer to hers. She doesn’t move away.
I move in even closer, and just like that, our lips are touching.
An electric shock zings through my body.
I move my mouth over hers. She doesn’t pull away. In fact, she does the same. Adrenaline shoots through my core and out to my limbs.
They’re just a few moments—a few, crazy moments of untamed emotion, and then our lips part. But those few moments just might have been the best few moments of my life.
She’s staring into my eyes. I’m too damn happy to be terrified, but my mind is telling me that maybe I should be...a little.
“What was that?” she asks.
She sounds nervous, maybe even a little panicked.
“A kiss,” I mumble, hoarsely.
My heart starts to race again. I don’t want her to run. She looks as if she’s going to run. A second goes by, then two, then three.
“Okay,” she whispers.
And the space between us grows silent. And then something changes in her eyes. It’s as if fear is replaced with desire. And I can’t help but be drawn to her.
I rest my hand on the back of her head and then pause before pulling her close.
Our lips touch, and it’s even better than the first time—if that’s possible. This time, her lips are hungry, as if this dance is something she had longed for—just as much as I had longed for her. It’s a slow burn, mixed with love and want and passion—eleven years in the making.
And then, it’s over. And she presses her forehead to mine.
“Vannah.” I take a quick breath. “I could really get used to this.”
She smiles softly.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
Her sad word brings me back down to earth.
“We’re just friends,” she says, shaking her head.
I pull away from her but keep my hands resting on her shoulders. There’s this uncertainty on her face. It makes me think she doesn’t even believe what she’s saying.
“And I leave tomorrow,” she adds.
She looks down at the concrete before finding my eyes again. I wish I could make her see what I see—that what we were and where we’ll be doesn’t matter.
I sigh inwardly and wrap my arms around her. My heart aches for her—for her time, for her kiss, for moments like this I might never get again. I think it’s all kind of just hitting me now.
Her head rests on my chest. I can hear her breathe in and then slowly breathe out, as the seconds fall away into the soft breeze.
It’s dark out. There’s a smell of honeysuckle in the air. I can hear the creek water softly moving through the big piece of concrete under our feet.
For a few, perfect seconds, her head presses against my heart. And I feel as if she’s mine—mine to hold, mine to love. Then, without warning, she steps back, forcing my arms from around her.
I watch her, as she walks backwards a couple steps, keeping her gaze on me. And if I’m not mistaken, there are tears in her eyes. Then suddenly, she stops and lowers herself to the edge of the slab.
“You coming?” She looks back at me but then turns before I can answer. And in her next move, she’s lying back against the chipped and weathered concrete.
My heart is still pounding, but somehow, I manage to convince my body to move toward her.
“Here,” I say, pulling off my tee shirt.
She looks up at me. It wasn’t really my intention, but her stare lingers on my midsection.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“No, just take it. I’m hot anyway.”
She gives me a playful smile, and then she takes the shirt. I watch her fold it into threes and then position it under her head.
“Here,” she says, patting one side of the tee shirt, “there’s enough room for two.”
I look at the little piece of cloth next to her head, and without hesitation, I press my back against the hard concrete and lay my head next to hers.
“Eben?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
I take a breath and then force it out.
“Well, my dad’s hell-bent on handing down the lumberyard to me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her head bob.
“Are you hell-bent on taking it?”
I laugh. “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind taking it over someday. It’s been in the family for years.”
She breathes out a smile.
“Maybe I’ll work for the Times.”
“The New York Times?”
“Yeah.”
“All the way in New York?”
“Maybe,” she says.
We both sit there then, listening to the water soothingly make its way from one side of the slab to the other.
“I’m gonna call you...after you’re gone,” I say, breaking the sweet silence.
“I know,” she says.
I reach for her hand, and she lets me hold it.
And I just smile. My heart’s breaking, but I smile anyway because despite wha
t tomorrow brings, I still have her tonight.
And I don’t know how much time goes by before we both drift off to sleep, our sides touching, her hand in mine—maybe for one, last time.
Vannah: You get home okay?
Eben: Safe and sound.
Vannah: :) Good.
Eben: I had fun tonight.
Vannah: Me too.
Eben: When do you leave?
Vannah: In about 5 hours.
Eben: :(
Vannah: You still haven’t finished the story.
Eben: Oh, yeah
Vannah: What does the boy wish for? My bet’s on the x-ray vision.
Eben: Haha!
Eben: His wish is for the girl.
Vannah: So he can have all the wishes he wants?
Eben: Yeah. Something like that. ;)
Vannah: Eben
Eben: Yeah
Vannah: I’d stay if I could.
Eben: I know
Eben: I’m going to miss you.
Vannah: I already miss you.
Eben: You should get some sleep.
Vannah: Probably
Eben: Don’t stay away forever.
Vannah: I won’t.
Eben: Promise?
Vannah: Promise
Eben: Good night, V
Vannah: Sweet dreams, E
Chapter Twelve
Salem
(Sixteen Years Old)
Day 4,041
It’s the 2nd of October, and it’s the first day that Savannah isn’t at her usual spot in the hallway before school.
I look around to make sure no one is looking, and I open her locker door, just to see if she’s really gone.
Inside, the shelves are empty—no books, no pictures of her or her friends or Rusty, no bag, no sign of Vannah. But then I see a little folded up piece of paper sitting on the shelf, and I quickly snatch it up.
I start to unfold it, guessing it’s probably just some old note to a friend or a schedule of some kind or something like that, when I stop.
I see my name, and my heart jumps. And my eyes immediately go to reading the rest:
I knew you’d go snooping around my locker after I was gone. I should have left some sort of booby trap!
Anyway, I just wanted to say that I already miss you. This last month was the best month of my life. It stinks it had to end.
You’re my favorite person.
Love,
Vannah
P.S. You better tell me when you find my star tower.
P.P.S. The gift is for Rusty. And by Rusty, I mean you. I needed a new one anyway. :)
Gift?
The locker is empty.
I furrow my brow and close the door. Then I carefully fold the note, stick it deep into my pocket and open the locker right next to hers.
And then I see it.
Stuffed at the very bottom of my locker is a bed comforter—one with little purple cats all over it.
We talked on the phone that whole semester after that. We talked about our days, about Rusty, about her new life in South Carolina and our old life we used to have back here. And then as the winter drew on, we talked less and less. She got a job babysitting for a wealthy couple on some place called Rainbow Row down there, and it snowed here just enough to keep me knee-deep in the snow-removal business—the winter business in the grass business. And then one day, I don’t know how or why I noticed it just then, but in the middle of a basketball practice the next year, it just hit me: I hadn’t really talked to Vannah for months.
I remember feeling lost in that moment, like someone had just punched me in the gut and left me in some strange place.
I figured she was living her life. The occasional How are you? text was nice, but it wasn’t quite the same as hearing her voice.
I missed her voice. In fact, I vowed I’d never forget her voice. Every day, I’d replay her saying my name in my head. I think I figured that if I always had her voice, I always had her.
I wish that were true.
Chapter Thirteen
Salem
(Seventeen Years Old)
Day 4,562
“Dude, have you heard?”
“Heard what?” I ask, going up for a layup.
“Savannah Catesby is coming back.”
“What?” I grab the ball and look back at him. All of a sudden, Dillon Denhammer has my full attention—for the first time...probably ever.
“Savannah? You remember her?” he asks. “Tall. Blond. Played volleyball. Oh, yeah, and you were in love with her.”
“Cut the crap, Dillon.” I mindlessly squeeze the basketball and then turn it over in my hands. I can feel my legs going numb, but I try not to look as anxious as I feel. “Why is she back?”
Dillon shrugs. “I don’t know. But I think it’s just for the summer. I overheard her uncle talking about fixing up a room for her.”
“No shit,” I mumble.
“Yeah, no shit.” He laughs and gives me a dumb look, as if he’s amused by me or something. “Now, give me the ball.”
Without another thought, I throw him the ball. He takes it, dribbles and makes an unsuccessful attempt at a dunk.
“When?”
“What?” He straightens up and looks back at me.
“When will she be here?” I ask, a little louder, this time.
He shrugs again. “I don’t know. She might already be here.”
I grab the back of my neck and let out an unsteady breath of air. “You know, I just remembered I had something to do tonight.”
Dillon eyes me suspiciously. “Yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes, “like go find a girl.”
I smile and shake my head. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Fine, dude, bail on me for a girl.” He reaches for the ball near the curb.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I laugh. “As if this weren’t the twenty-ninth night in a row we’ve done this same thing.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, taking a shot. “But I better see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I say, “don’t count on it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Salem
(Seventeen Years Old)
Day 4,562
It’s pitch-black outside when I pull up to Lester Klein’s house. I turn off the truck first and then its lights, and then I sit there and stare at that old, off-white garage door.
“Damn it, I must be crazy.”
I’m just about to start my truck up again and get the hell out of here when the porch lights up.
My pulse starts racing. Her uncle is going to kill me or commit me or something; I just know it.
I hold my breath and watch as the screen door opens and out steps a girl in gray sweatpants and a dark tee shirt.
I watch, motionless, as she makes her way out onto the porch and squints her eyes at my truck.
“Eben?”
Well, here goes nothin’.
I smile, slowly reach for the door handle and then step out onto the little, pea-size gravel.
“Eben, what are you doing here?”
I shrug and softly close the door behind me.
“I heard you were back in town...”
“Come here,” she says, stopping me. “Come up here.”
I want to run to her, but I think that might look just a little too crazy. So instead, I calmly make my way up the stone walk and then up the three wooden porch stairs. And before I know it, I’m standing right in front of Savannah Catesby once again—not having the slightest idea of what to say.
“Wow, you look good, Eben.” She breathes out a smile. “You’re taller.”
I bow my head. “Yeah, it’s what a growth spurt will do for ya.”
“Wow,” she says again.
We stand there just like that, staring at each other for what feels like the duration of a Star Wars movie. And then she takes a step toward me.
“Well, come here, give me a hug.”
She throws her arms around my neck and falls
against my chest while I wrap my arms around her. She feels just as good as she smells. I breathe her in, and my senses fill with the sweet, familiar scent of her perfume, laundry soap and that vanilla-scented lotion she always wears.
“Wow, I didn’t realize how much I missed you.” Her voice is muffled in my chest.
I want to say I missed her, too, but I’m afraid my voice might crack before I get it all out.
“But it looks as if time has been good to you,” she says, pulling away from me.
She smiles and then walks over to the porch swing. “Come on, sit down with me.”
“Okay,” I say, slowly bobbing my head.
I take the couple steps toward the swing and then sit down. I make sure there’s some, but not too much, space in between us.
“So, how’d you know I was back?”
“Oh, Dillon overheard your uncle talking about you.”
“Aah,” she says, nodding her head.
“How come you didn’t tell me you were coming back?”
“I wanted to surprise you. I was going to go tap on your window in the middle of the night.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “I probably would have liked that.”
She laughs now, too, and it reminds me of how much I missed her laugh.
“Well, are you back for good?” I ask, when our laughter grows faint.
“No, just for the summer. I’m helping Uncle Lester out at the paper. But mostly, we’re just spending time together. That’s what Mom said anyway.”
I reach for her hand. I don’t know why I do it. I just saw her hand, and I felt like holding it. But just as quickly as my skin touches hers, she pulls her hand back.
“Eben.”
“What?”
“I have a boyfriend.”
My forehead wrinkles, and my heart sinks deep inside my chest.
“You do?”
She nods once. And slowly, my eyes find the floor. I don’t want to give away to her what I’m thinking. But after a little while, I can tell she’s looking at me. So, I give in and look at her.
