Our Last Time: A Novel

by Poplin, Cristy Marie

  “I’ll follow you home again,” I said.

  He smiled. “I’ll see you in less than fifteen minutes.”

  5:21p.m.

  Wyatt's elbow was completely healed according to the X-Ray, but we both could have guessed that. I was parking on the curb in front of his house, now. He had gotten out of his jeep and was quick to approach me as I put my car in park, and clicked it off with the turn of my key.

  He opened my door, smiling brightly at me. "I just opened your door for you with my left hand," he said to me, as I got out of the car.

  "I see that," I said, grinning.

  He shut the door, and hugged me. "You have no idea how happy I am to have my arm back."

  I had an idea, but I hadn't said anything.

  We went inside, and of course, he opened the door for me with his left hand. I was heading straight for the kitchen, but he had grabbed my shoulder to stop me.

  "Nope. You sit on the couch. I'm cooking tonight," he told me.

  I paused for a moment. "Okay," I said.

  I wasn't going to fight him on it. This was something he had been wanting to do for ten days, or maybe even longer.

  "How do you like your steak cooked?" he yelled to me from the kitchen.

  "Uh, medium well!" I shouted as a response.

  I was watching a random television show when he came in, carrying two plates of food. He had cooked rib-eye steaks, broccoli, and some homemade mashed potatoes.

  I had known I was in love with him for a while, but somehow, as I sat here eating this food he cooked just for me, I had fallen just a little bit more.

  "It's delicious," I told him. "Thank you, Wyatt."

  "There's more," he said, as he slowly ate his food.

  "More food?" I asked.

  "No," he chuckled. "Well, yeah, there's more food, but I meant there's more that I want to do with you tonight. And I'd like it if you spent the night with me again, too."

  "Okay," I smiled. "And I can arrange that. I just don't have any clothes," I shrugged.

  "You can wear mine," he said simply.

  "Wyatt..."

  "I'm serious," he murmured. "And remember the drawer? I was serious about the drawer, too."

  "You're too much," I blushed.

  "Too much in a bad way?" he questioned, his expression quizzical.

  "No," I answered immediately. "In an overwhelmingly good way, actually. I'm not used to being treated so greatly is all."

  "Well," he sighed longingly. "You'll get used to it."

  I smiled at that comment.

  We were finished eating soon, and we both carried our dirty dishes to the kitchen.

  "Do you have a coat in your car? It's going to be a little cold later," he spoke, as he scrubbed our dishes clean in the sink.

  "I have a sweater."

  "That'll do," he smiled over his shoulder.

  Once he was done with the dishes, he grabbed my hand and held onto it tightly as he led me through the hall. Then suddenly, we were facing his front door.

  "Where are we going, exactly?" I asked him quietly, my mouth close to his ear.

  He grabbed and held my waist as he opened the door. He kissed my temple before he said, "That's for me to plot, and for you to find out at the right time."

  "Whatever," I breathed, smirking.

  We both got in his Jeep once I retrieved my sweater, and he started driving.

  "Here, take my phone," he said, as he handed me the nicest phone I had ever seen up close.

  "What kind of phone is this, and what do you want me to do with it?" I questioned, as I studied the device curiously.

  "It's the new HTC Universal, but that's not important. Go on the web, and search 'places to visit in Chicago'. You pick one of the places, but I'm going to take you to my favorite spot first."

  I was dumbfounded as I flipped the phone open, coming into view of a large screen and a qwerty keyboard. "Uh, is it touch screen?"

  "Yeah," he chuckled. "What, you've never used a cell phone or a PDA with a touch screen before?"

  "No, Wyatt," I muttered. "I have a Motorola flip phone, which I thought was edgy enough, but apparently it's not as edgy as a pocket PC. That's what this is, right?"

  "Yeah, it's a pocket PC," he sighed, but he hadn't made fun of me. He quickly pulled out a little wand from a hidden slot on the device, and handed it to me. "Use the stylus to click icons and links, and use the keyboard to type. It's fairly simple technology, honestly. You'll get the hang of it fast," he told me.

  "If you say so," I whispered, as I used the wand to click on the Web icon. "This is pretty cool," I commented, as I did as he asked.

  "I wouldn't own it if it wasn't pretty cool," he laughed lightly. "Did you find a place yet?" he asked.

  I scrolled for a moment, but I had only one place in mind that stuck with me. "I didn't need to search the web to know this place exists, but how about the drive-in?" I asked slowly.

  I saw a smile take over his face. "Do you have the number, so I can get the movie times?"

  I grinned. "Dialing the number now," I said, as I handed him the phone.

  I watched his face as he listened to the automated movie times, and as he hung up the phone, we were making a turn onto a dirt road. "There are two movies playing. One is at seven, and the other is at nine. What are you thinking? A romantic comedy from last year, or that new John Lennon documentary?" he made brief eye contact with me as he spoke.

  "Hmm," I paused. "I'm thinking John Lennon documentary. Romantic comedies are kind of a drag. What are you thinking?" I smirked.

  "Huh," he stared in wonderment as he came to a stop a few yards away from a line of train tracks, and an old picnic hut. "I'm thinking you're my soul mate."

  I grabbed the back of his neck, and kissed him. We both pulled back as a smile met both of our faces.

  "What are we to do here?" I asked suddenly.

  "Come on," he said, opening his door. "Follow me."

  And I had done just that.

  I hopped over the shifter, stopping him from closing his door by sticking my foot out.

  "Willow, what are you doing?" he looked at me incredulously.

  "Following you," I shrugged.

  He laughed. "I didn't mean to this extent," he said, motioning towards my outstretched leg.

  I snickered. "I thought it'd be funny."

  "It is," he grinned. "But Willow, we're adults, you know."

  I was glad he had it in him to mock me, honestly. I was way too caustic, and often self-deprecating. I couldn't have it any other way. We had similar humor, which for me, was hard to find. Even Kennedy had had enough with my sarcasm at times back in the day. Wyatt and I, on the other hand, could have been the masters of sarcasm.

  "I didn't say we weren't adults," I lifted my eyebrows. "Are you going to let me exit, or what?" I asked, tipping my chin towards his left hand, which had been firmly holding the door in place.

  "Oh, right," he immediately opened the door all the way for me.

  "This is just, uh...my childhood, basically. I used to come here around this time after school. It was my daily ritual," he told me, as he grabbed my waist. We then started down a trail towards the train tracks.

  "So, you had a thing for trains?"

  "No, the tracks," he responded. "Walking on a train track in a straight line is difficult when you're on your own. It's easier with two people. Come here, let me show you," he said, grabbing my hand.

  We approached the tracks, and he stood on one side as he motioned for me to stand on the other. "Walk with me," he smiled, turning his head.

  We held our arms out at our sides, while still holding hands. "Give in to my weight so you won't fall. I've done this enough, I have plenty of balance at this point," he instructed, and so I listened to him as we walked across the tracks.

  The setting is beautiful in the fall here, isn't it?" he spoke absently.

  "The leaves and the trees and the calming colors..." I trailed off, sighing. "Very beautiful, yes."

>   "You remind me of fall," he smiled, staring straight ahead. "Naturally beautiful," he said quietly.

  "You remind me of slice cheese..."

  "Willow, goddammit," he muttered. "Why can't you-"

  "Take a compliment?" I interrupted him, smiling smugly. "I can take a compliment, Wyatt, and I accept your compliments every time. Whether you think so, or not," I sighed. "You just...remind me of slice cheese."

  "And why do I remind you of slice cheese, Willow? Hmm?" he asked curiously, but in a way like he hadn't believed me, and I was being ridiculous.

  "You remind me of slice cheese, because you're almost too good to be real. You're too much to keep under my belt, though I crave you to be there anyway. Your tempting appearance made me first think that you could hurt me internally, but you satisfy me more through every minute. You get what I'm saying, right?" I had gone on.

  "That's an odd comparison, but I'll take it," he exhaled. "I had no idea you had these kinds of feelings for slice cheese."

  "Yeah, me and slice cheese go way back," I insisted.

  He chuckled. "You're insanely adorable when you attempt to compliment me, you know that?"

  "I don't have a clue. I think I'm a mess, honestly, but your acceptance is warming," I half-smiled, catching a brief glance at him.

  We walked steadily for a few seconds in silence before he asked, "Do you want to try walking on your own, now?"

  And of course, I had nodded my head slowly before saying the word, "Yes." I wanted to prove myself, I always had. In any situation, I wanted to succeed. So, I tried with Wyatt.

  "Alright, on the count of three, I want you to let go of my hand, but still hold your arms out," he instructed.

  "Okay." On the count of three, I had let go of his hand. I was wobbly, leaning forward absently as I tried not to lose my step.

  "Stand up straighter," he said coolly. "Your posture has to be as close to perfect as possible. Take calm breaths, and just relax your muscles," he eased.

  He was right. Standing up straighter as I walked, and keeping my breaths steady helped tremendously.

  "That's it," he said, and I saw his smile.

  We had done this for a while, until I nearly perfected my stance.

  "Will this be our last time coming here?" I asked him, once it was time for us to leave, and catch the movie at the drive-in.

  He lifted his eyebrows, turning his head towards me as we walked with our fingers laced.

  "I certainly hope not," he replied.

  And so, we had gotten in his jeep before leaving, slowly traveling down the same dirt road we had previously traveled on. It wasn't long before we were at the drive-in, buying popcorn at the concession stand, and then finally parking in the grass where we set the radio to the correct station.

  We hopped in his backseat and cuddled, our jackets thrown over us like blankets as we watched the documentary. Occasionally, we would kiss.

  When the credits rolled, we were exhausted. So, we shrugged before snuggling even closer to one another.

  "Goodnight, Willow," he kissed me.

  "Goodnight, Wyatt," I smiled slowly, my eyes fluttering shut.

  I couldn't imagine having anyone else's arms around me. Our fit wasn't perfect, but it was inevitable. Because perfect was too good to be real. This was real, and I was starting to realize that. I wasn't scared anymore. We were in love. We were happy like this. We hadn't needed to say 'I love you' out loud, and we hadn't needed to have sex to know. We already knew.

  August 16th, 1985, 11:08a.m.

  Willow

  I was a six-year-old girl. I was innocent as ever and expected only good things. Today was my first day of first grade. I previously experienced Kindergarten. My momma had promised me it would not be the same as Kindergarten here, and that I would actually learn some new things.

  “It’s elementary school, Willow,” she told me, her smile bright as always. “Your goal remains the same; stand out, and don’t copy what the other kids do. Always listen closely. There will not be naps after lunchtime anymore. You won’t be drawing as many pictures, either.”

  She was wrong about the drawings. We had been drawing since class started, and we were about halfway done with class. They were different, but they were still pictures. They were still easy to do. They were like puzzles, but instead of piecing a picture together or coloring one in, we were numbering them first to last. My teacher, Ms. Rose, called them Mind Game worksheets.

  My momma had taught me how to count on my fingers when I was nearly three years old. She taught me the alphabet shortly after. She taught me how to write numbers 0-100, and letters A-Z shortly before I started Kindergarten. I was ahead of everyone around me, so I was often bored with lessons. I was already familiar with most lessons in class. My momma had always been my favorite teacher.

  “Alright, class. Before we go to lunch, I need everyone to pick a partner for our next lesson,” Ms. Rose announced. I thought this would possibly be a fun activity. Maybe I would actually learn something new, I thought.

  I was in the second row in front, and so I looked behind me in search for a classmate to sit with, and call my partner.

  There was a boy. He was quiet and alone, but there was this smile on his face that I could not look away from. He was sitting directly behind me.

  “Hey, what’s your name?” I asked him curiously. A smile claimed the corner of my mouth, uncontrolled.

  “Kennedy,” he answered. His smile remained. His eyes were big and blue. His eyes distracted me. They weren’t distracting in a bad way, though. It was almost as if they were speaking to me, begging me to introduce myself. So, I told him my name.

  “I’m Willow,” I said, and then I asked, “Do you want to be my partner?”

  He nodded his head vigorously, and we both laughed.

  “Yeah,” he said excitedly.

  I had taken the seat next to him before Ms. Rose told us all to line up, so she could escort us to the cafeteria. While in line, we often peeked at each other, just so we could see the other’s smile.

  I sat next to him at lunch, and though the rest of our classmates surrounded us, we hadn’t seemed to be interested in anyone or anything but each other. Kennedy and I were inseparable.

  I had learned so much about him in one day. Him as my partner in class, I noticed that he liked sharing his ideas, but he had never pushed them on me. He cared about what I thought of his ideas, and he cared about my own ideas. I hadn’t had many ideas, but he was always happy to just listen. We intrigued each other.

  When class ended, the teacher began announcing bus numbers, to make sure all of the kids remembered theirs. My house had been walking distance, and so I waited for her to announce walkers and car riders.

  When she did, Kennedy and I stood up at the same time.

  I grinned, “Are you walking home, too?”

  “Yeah, my house is just down the road, past the woods,” he answered as we walked.

  I sighed in awe. “Really? My house is just down the road, too. But before the woods,” I told him.

  “Do you want to walk with me?” he offered.

  Absently, I grabbed his hand and held it as we walked through the last hall, then out the door. “I couldn’t have it any other way,” I replied, turning my head briefly, so he could see my smile.

  "Then let's go home," he exhaled. I had felt him squeeze my hand, and I thought it was the best, most comforting feeling I had ever felt. I had considered him my best friend already, and it was nice having him here with me. I knew it would always be nice, having him close. Even then, we had known we would be partners forever.

  I wanted Kennedy’s attention more than anything, especially when I was a six-year-old girl. He fascinated me. Before Kennedy, I wondered if boys actually had cooties. Before Kennedy, boys intimidated me. I once tried befriending girls, but I never really liked being around other girls. Before Kennedy, I hadn’t had any friends besides my mom and dad. Kennedy had always been my best friend, my only friend. I had never o
nce wanted Kennedy to go away. I wanted him to stay. I always wanted him to stay. Though we said Hello for the last time on August 16th, exactly twelve years after the day we first met, I still hoped he’d be with me somehow. I hoped every day, ever since.

  September 16th, 2006, 9:38a.m.

  Willow

  I had felt arms around me, and a mouth pressed to my earlobe, whispering, “Wake up, and kiss me.”

  I smiled, opening my eyes. “I’m awake, kiss me,” I said, turning my head to face him.

  We made eye contact before we both had closed our eyes. He placed his left hand on the side of my face, and kissed me. Soft and sweet, good morning kisses.

  “It’s a new day,” I yawned, remembering we had slept in the backseat of his jeep last night. I nestled my face against his chest, hugging his waist. “Annette’s expecting me.”

  He stroked my hair for a moment, smoothing it out. “Actually, she’s expecting both of us,” he said.

  I sat up straight, eyeing him curiously. “What do you mean she’s expecting both of us?”

  “Your roommate gave me her phone number one day, when she dropped Annette off at school. I called her while you were asleep, and asked her to tell Annette we’re coming to pick her up,” he explained. “You’re such a deep sleeper, just so you know,” he stated. “It’s convenient sometimes. I farted about twenty minutes ago, and it was a loud fart. You didn’t even flinch.”

  I laughed. “At least I didn’t have to smell it,” I said, sighing. “Oh, Wyatt. You really love testing my comfort zone, don’t you?”

  He scoffed at my comment as I lay down across the seat, resting my head on his lap.

  “I think it’s time for me to spend time with your daughter outside of the classroom. Don’t you think so, too?” he challenged, looking down at me so I could see his grin.

  “Are you plotting something?”

  “I already plotted something.”

  “What did you plot, Wyatt?”

  He shook his head slowly. “You can’t have all the answers,” he said, chuckling.