Wes and I just fit at the end of that summer. Learning what forever meant to me made me realize that things in life are meant to be celebrated. And Wes helped show me that. We were inseperable for the rest of the summer: going to the beach house, catering for Delia, babysitting Lucy and Avery, but most of all, playing Truth.
Kristy decided that our relationship is "romantical". We were no longer "tragical". Though, I'm sure I haven't heard the end of "tragical" occurences. For instance, the end of the world is said to be tragical. Bert highly disagrees. The end of the world will be a lot more than tragical. Monica doesn't have much input on this topic and Wes pretends he's not listening. I try to agree with both Kristy and Bert, but really; how much should I care?
Jason calls me sometimes. Every time I talk to him, it makes me realize more and more of how much we really didn't...match. I guess it just wan't meant to be. Bethany and Amanda can HAVE him. We're beyond finished.
Unfortunately, the start of the school year is tomorrow. Tomorrow is the beginning of the end. And at the beginning of the summer, I knew exactly what I was going to do with the rest of my life. But now, I have no idea. Should I be worried? I think so.
"Caroline, I don't want your purple sweater," I say for the last time. It's 7:30 on the night before the beginning of my senior year and Caroline is set on giving me all of the clothes she doesn't want anymore. I however, am not interested in most of the cothes. I do like that black t-shirt though. I take it.
"Macy," she sighs, clucking her tongue. I've been getting that a lot from her lately. The sighs and clucks. I think she's still trying to get used to the fact that I'm not the old Macy anymore and that I'm growing up. She still wants me to be the baby sister. What she doesn't realize is that I'll always be the baby sister.
"Well, I don't wear purple or pink," I say in my own defense, folding the plain black t-shirt with the slight v-neck. I carefully smooth my hands over it, flattening the creases inch by inch.
"Macy, purple and pink are pastels that really flatter your appearence," she argues. I give in, taking the purple sweater with the plans of putting it at the bottom of my lowest drawer.
"Oh good. Now, I need to go because Wally and I have dinner reservations in 15 minutes. Good luck at school tomorrow," says Caroline, kissing my cheek. I wait for her footsteps to retreat and the front door to close before I Take all of the clothes and sort them into piles. On pile fore clothes I'll never wear. Another for clothes I'll wear if I have to. Another for clothes I might wear. And lastly, a pile for clothes I will wear. It's awfully small compared to the others. I carefully put them away, picking something that suits me for tomorrow. There's too much fuss going into this. They don't realize it, but everyone's making me nervous. If I hear one more sigh or cluck I don't know what I'll do.
Plopping onto my bed, my eye catches sight of the two sculptures Wes made. I carefully take the tiny angel into my hands, running my finger along his articulate handiwork. I'm all too reminded of how much I'm loved. And somehow, the forever I'm living seems all too short.