Becca's grin is brighter than the sun.
You'll meet someone one day, and you won't know it. But sooner or later, they become the most important person in your life.
And you won't know why. You'll just wake up one day and every urge and want and need is motivated by them.
You'll want to do it all for them.
Becca just so happens to be my motivation.
It sounds silly, but sometimes I picture taking Becca back home to meet my parents. I imagine my mother's eyes squinting to get a good look at Becca.
She'll think her earrings are the farthest thing from a sight for sore eyes, and her dark make up may be a tad withdrawn from what your everyday "beauty" may possess.
But once she hears Becca's genial laugh, and gazes upon her sunlight grin, she'll see how beautiful Becca is. And once she hears Becca sing, my mom will see why Becca is the
most
important
girl
in my life.
"Do you do that a lot?"
I lean my head back against the tree I'm sitting near. In my peripheral vision, I can see Becca's eyebrows knit together in confusion. Her lips are turned up into a half grin – only because Becca never "smile smiles" she only "half" smiles because it still leaks a sense of sarcasm.
My head tilts to the side, "Do what?"
"That – daze off," I smiled, remembering where my mind had wandered off to as Becca went on, "Stop it, loser. You're getting stranger and stranger by the day."
I crossed my feet as I let a gentle hand rest on her leg. I noticed red flush unto her cheeks. I bit my lip, "I was just thinking of something really cool."
"Yeah? What is it?" Becca's tilts her head in anticipation but I wave away my thoughts, "Oh, it's nothing."
Becca nodded. She didn't push, she never pushed. She appreciated the idea of private thoughts; she appreciated space. She didn't see the loneliness, only the beauty.
"Becca, this might sound a bit weird – I mean, I guess all I'm trying to say is," I kept my eyes glued to the grass, as I picked at it with my left hand. My right hand stayed on her leg lazily, almost as if that spot was made for my hand. She hadn't shifted under its weight uncomfortably.
"Becca-," I choked. I felt the color flush from my face.
"Yes Jesse?"
I closed my eyes, waiting for the right words to come into mind. I was just about to admit something, but as strange as it is, I don't even know what I'm admitting yet.
I felt her thumb graze my cheek – it went over the stubble softly, and once I opened my eyes, her lips had already met mine.
"- I love you." I mumbled. I let my head fall back, but instead of the rough, crisp bark of the tree I was expecting to find, I found my pillow.
And Benji.
And Donald.
But no Becca.
"Bud, you've had one too many of these dreams…"
Benji came to sit on my bed. I had pulled my cotton covers past my eyes to block out the 12 o'clock sunshine. Donald laughed, "I agree man. You moaned her name at least six times… if you like her as much as you subconsciously admit it, why did you let her do what she did? Why didn't you stop her?"
In a slow, fluid moment, I let the covers be brought down to my bare chest. I sighed, peering over to a photo of us together at last year's final.
Her smile was still as bright as sunlight.
Her smile is still as bright as sunlight.
"I guess," I sighed, scratching my forehead, "She has dreams too, you know? It's not that wanted her to go, but what kind of boyfriend would I be if I made her stay? What kind of…person—to make her put her dreams on pause so that I'll have more time with her? All I want is for her to be happy. And if that means letting her go, so be it. At least she's happy."
Benji stopped me, "She was happy with you."
Donald nodded, but I refused to go on. They just didn't understand. It would make more sense if I cried – pleaded and begged for her. It would be more logical if I questioned her subconsciously. But I knew she didn't want to leave.
I know she wanted to stay.
Life just has funny ways of working, though.
Very funny ways.