Life Goes On
Tomorrow she'll be rolling down
I-10 Baton Rouge
LSU
18 years in her rear-view
He's got a Friday paycheck lined up down the block
At daddy's shop
It ain't much but it's a job
They've been dreading this moment all summer long
But here it is
They don't have long
The night before
Life goes on
~Carrie Underwood~
She took one last drag from her cigarette and flicked in away, and as its faint orange glow disappeared into the darkness, she immediately missed it. Damn it was cold. Why was it so cold?
She shivered and swore. When did it get so cold?
September. It was September. God, how did that happen? She blinked and her summer was gone.
Freshmen orientation was tomorrow.
She hadn't packed yet.
Packing was final, it was giving up, it was letting go. She wasn't ready to let go. It was too soon, she was too young, why was she leaving? Half the kids in her graduating class weren't going anywhere. Why was she leaving? She couldn't seem to remember the reason she had thought college was such a good idea. Sure, it meant you had more opportunities, better education, a better life. But who said she needed a better life? Her life was just fine the way it was; simple, easy, safe. She wasn't ready for different.
The wind blew colder and she swore. It was too cold for September.
God, she could use another cigarette.
She heard the scrape of sneakers against the roof and didn't flinch. She felt him come to stand beside her and waited for him to say something.
He didn't.
She didn't either.
There were so many things she wanted to say, too many things she needed him to know. But she didn't say anything. Neither did he.
Could've been hours, could've been minutes. Who the hell cared anymore? The butterflies in her stomach had mutated into birds, flapping around desperately trying to get out. Why couldn't they get out? Why couldn't she breathe? She didn't want to go.
He let out a sigh because she never lost and he was tired. So he gave in, took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She didn't even look at him. He didn't blame her; he couldn't look at her either. This was too hard. Why was this so hard? Why did he care so much?
Another moment passed, and he put his arm around her, just because he wanted to. He always got what he wanted. He was perfect. He was the prom king, got straight A's, and was on the track team. Four different schools had offered him scholarships. He didn't take any of them. They needed him here. Why was this so hard?
She snuggled deeper into his arms and tried not think. Think about how this might be the last time she would be here. Think about how much she would miss it. Think about how much she would miss him. Think about how much she loved him. Why did she love him so much?
The sun came up and the sky turned pink and orange and summer and happiness and she thought she just might throw up. And every minute that passed was a minute closer to the end of the world. How could the sky be so unbelievably beautiful when Armageddon was just a moment away?
Too soon they'd have to move, too soon they'd have to go back to real life, and too soon she'd have to leave him. If she could stop time, she'd stop it right now and live in this moment forever and ever. But she couldn't stop time and so the moment was gone and the next one came just as surely as the sun was rising in the sky.
And when he said
"Baby…"
In that stupid, wonderful southern accent of his, it was too much. She didn't look at him when the first tear fell from her stubbornly brown eyes. She didn't look at him when the second or third fell either. But when that fourth tear came rolling down her cheek, he turned her round in his arms and wiped it away with his thumb, because it hurt too damn much to watch.
It was too much. She couldn't breath. He held her and whispered nonsense to her as she ruined his shirt with her sobs. By the time she could stop, the sky was a pale blueish-yellow and the morning dove was singing a funeral march.
"Baby…" he said again. "It'll be okay." But it wouldn't. He knew it and she knew it and the lying was just so they could live in delusion a little while longer.
"It's not like I'll never see you again…. I'll visit every weekend. You'll see Baby, we'll make it." She didn't believe it and he knew. He didn't believe it either.
He wished it was true, but wishes didn't mean the same thing as they did when they were kids and stars fell from the sky. But he sure did wish with all that he had, and he didn't have much, that he could be with her just another day. Just one more day that he could hold her, and kiss her, and love her. One more day. Why couldn't he have just one more day?
"Please, Baby, it'll—"
"Don't."
She stopped him because his words were hurting her heart. She could feel it turning into dust, her heart. She didn't believe that hearts broke, that was just movie nonsense. But they did fade away and fade away, until they were nothing but piles of dust that blew away with the wind.
And her heart had been fading all night. And he if kept talking, it would disappear altogether. Could you live without a heart? Or did you just fade along with it until you were nothing but a shadow of moonlight?
She wasn't sure she wanted to find out. So she made him stop before he could say more heart-fading words. Was love always this hard, or was she just jinxed or something?
"You sure are sweet, trying to lie to me like that. But you and I both know this is what happens, isn't it? We're just another love story that never got to the happy ending part. I'm leaving—"
"Don't say—" because he wasn't going to cry.
"No. Let me finish," because she never lost.
"I'm leaving. LSU's a long way from here. You're not going to visit me. And that's ok, because I'm not going to call. I love you," because she had to make sure that he knew that. If everything in her life was uncertain, there was one thing she knew for sure, and it was that she loved him.
"I love you," she said again, just to make sure. "I love you more than I should."
He held her closer because he always got what wanted and this feeling, damn, it was going kill him, he was sure of it.
How could he make her understand that he couldn't be without her? She was the fresh air that smelled like summertime and the hot, hot sun in July. She was the wind that blew the leaves off the trees in the fall and the cold that was never really cold. She was thunderstorms and bubblegum and apple pie and football. She was everything that meant anything. She was him and he was her. They were one person split two ways and one couldn't live without the other. Why couldn't she understand? Why couldn't she see that he needed her?
He was never really good with words. But if there was ever a time when he needed to say something, anything, it was now. But his brain was too busy panicking to make letters into words into sentences and all he could do was look at her and try so hard not to cry.
She could she it in his eyes, how much he wanted to say it. They'd been together too long for people their age and she knew that he loved her. But not once had he ever said it. She didn't need him too.
But she did. She needed to hear it, out loud. Needed to know that he was hurting just as much as she was. She was selfish and she knew it. But misery loves company, some dead guy had said, and she just needed to hear it. Just once.
So she waited.
"I…" He was trying so, so hard not cry.
"I…" why couldn't he say it? It wasn't hard. He knew he loved her. It was just a fact, like blue skies and two and two is four. He loved her. He loved her. But he couldn't say it because…
Because right now, in this moment, saying 'I love you' didn't mean 'I love you'.
Right now, 'I love you', meant 'Goodbye'. And if there was anything he wasn't ready to say it was goodbye.
And because he wasn't good with words and his brain was busy thinking about other things, he said,
"I don't want you to go." It didn't sound very meaningful or deep or anything that it was supposed to, but it was the best he could do.
She smiled a little, sad smile and he wasn't crying. He wasn't crying when she took off his jacket and gave it to him. He wasn't crying when she reached up and wiped away the tears. And he definitely wasn't crying when she kissed him.
It wasn't a goodbye kiss and it wasn't a passionate movie kiss. It was an I-love-you-and-I-don't-want-to-go-but-I-have-to kiss and he didn't like it one bit.
He wasn't crying when she told him she loved him.
He wasn't crying when she slid down the drainpipe to the yard below.
He wasn't crying when he saw the screen door slam shut with her disappearing behind it.
He stayed on that roof all day and watched as one by one her bags were loaded into her red pickup truck. He watched as she kissed her mama goodbye and hugged her daddy and got in.
And right before she drove away, she glanced up to the roof and blue eyes met brown. She was crying and he was crying because they were one person split two ways.
And as that red pickup truck turned a corner and was out of sight, he whispered what he couldn't say.
"I love you."
But all that heard him was the too-cold wind and the setting September sun.