by Stahl, Shey
“I’m sorry, Dylan.” I reached across the table to his hand, but his hand came down on top of mine taking both mine and his together. “I tried so hard to do the right thing and no matter what way I chose, none were for me.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said looking into my eyes. “I once told you that I’d give up everything for you, I meant that. I did. Even though you walked away, I never stopped loving you. I’m just as guilty as you for what happened. Any time that summer I could have told you what I knew…and I didn’t.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Were we ready? Could I love him in all the ways he needed?
I tried to bury it, hide the feelings but I couldn’t.
This was believing in the future that holds no resemblance to the planned version of your life.
When would my time be mine? When would I be able to be myself?
Now. It was my time right now.
Fuck all that shit that happened before. Fuck my parents and their hidden lies and scandal secrets. Fuck their looks and judgment for something they would never understand. Fuck the numbers. Eighteen will always be just a number. Nineteen is just a number. It doesn’t mean shit. Fuck school and fuck the pressure to go. Fuck the world because it doesn’t matter. Love like there’s no tomorrow. Love because he’s mine. I choose Dylan.
I needed air.
I motioned outside and he followed.
Behind the bank of clouds thick enough to obscure the light of the moon, holes peeked as isolated sparks of light broke through.
A gleaming rich array of silver, grey and dark blue, all blended together on the pier meeting the black of darkness. Any light, luminous once, had a way of shinning its way through a darkened soul that was now alive.
“What did you do when I left, when you got in your car and left?” I asked as we walked along the Seattle waterfront.
“I went to Drew’s house and stayed in bed for probably two weeks. He finally had enough and made me start taking showers and eating. It was like he expected me to actually function normally.”
We talked about nothing, anything, and everything for four miles. By the time we had made a loop around, Eddy and Reece were looking for him. He ignored their raucous catcalls and inappropriate gestures and looked at me.
I smiled and gestured toward his familiar GTO parked by the curb. The dent in the door and the hood was still there. Our memories. Nothing was said, we walked over and got in.
As we sat there Dylan looked at me with those ice blue eyes and said, “Which way should we go, North or South?”
A feeling of contentment came over me, knowing this was where I belonged, said, “South?”
He smiled. “South it is, brown eyes.”
So there you have it, a story my heart holds true. A story about a girl and boy who were so lost they couldn’t see what was right in front of them. It was our deal.
I can’t say that I regretted anything that happened that summer because I didn’t at all.
It was our story, played out on the open highway chasing sunsets. It wasn’t an easy story to tell you. It was a story of kisses, lust, passion, youth, mistakes, lies, hiding, stupidity, judging, but most of all, love.
Some say a sunset can be too beautiful for words. I’d agree with that. There are a lot of things too beautiful for words for me.
To me, it was the earth’s way of saving the best for last.
The End.
I restore myself when I’m alone.
Marilyn Monroe
Shey Stahl is the author of Waiting for You and the Racing on the Edge series. When she’s not writing she’s doing whatever she wants. Sometimes that’s watching racing and sometimes that chasing around her little jerk of a kid that she loves, so she says. Currently she’s working on Delayed Penalty. A story about a hockey player.
