"I think this was a good plan."
"Oh do you?" Julie giggled, the lake glimmering in the background.
Taking advantage of the perfect July day, the two had gone out to the lake behind Julie's house; a scattering of trees between the water and the houses nearby giving the two a welcome bit of privacy.
The afternoon had started off innocent enough: Just a nice, wholesome swim; the perfect way to spend a hot summer day in a town with limited entertainment options.
Of course, a few minutes into their swim, Julie realized that she had grown tired of her summer tan lines, and set to liberate herself the confines of her bikini. Adam soon followed suit, neither move eliciting a bit of complaint.
"Yeah. I do." He smiled, pulling her in closer.
"Good."
Holding her body close against his, Adam leaned down for a kiss. Unable to resist, he let one hand glide down past the small of her back, savoring the curves that he knew he'd never be able to forget.
Grasping her hockey toned butt, he grew all the more excited, every inch of his body longing to be with her.
To never let go.
He felt of her smooth skin; her supple rear. Of her body that just seemed to be perfectly made for his.
"You are so beautiful." He whispered, her face now resting against his collarbone.
Looking up, her eyes sparkled as they met his; the sun casting them both in a warm glow.
"You're not bad yourself."
"I'm beautiful?"
"You are extremely beautiful, Mr. Adam Wailes Talbott Banks." She giggled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. "Everything about you is gorgeous."
She smiled as a blush crept over his cheeks.
Nineteen years, and somehow it seemed that it never had quite dawned on him how popular he was with the ladies.
"Well, I'm certainly not as beautiful as you."
"Humble words from the resident Prom King."
"You're never going to let me live that one down, are you?" He chuckled, still savoring every second with her.
Above, a flock of ducks flew overhead, the quacking barely audible as the two continued their banter; neither one taking their eyes off of one another.
"Of course not. You were pretty adorable in your little crown. Besides, not just everybody gets to be prom king...it's kind of special."
"Not as special as being here with you."
"Think of it as one of the royal perks." She laughed, ruffling the back of his hair as her other hand grasped his shoulders, bringing him in so close that she could feel every inch of his wet, sculpted body.
"Ah! I knew it! You're just using me for my plastic jewels and fancy scepter!"
"You got me!"
"Well, I will happily share all of my riches with you, Princess Feline." He smiled, his arms still tight around her waist.
"You are such a dork."
"No argument there."
"Worthless fuckin' piece of shit!"
"Fat ass, white trash junkie."
As Fulton and Portman separated the two, the shouting continued, piercing the night sky. Charlie strained against Fulton's grasp, desperate for another go at his former friend while Portman helped Adam off the ground; Adam more concerned with shouting insults than getting back up. As blood dripped from his lip, all he could think about was the past twenty years; all of the things Charlie wasn't there for. All of the phone calls that never happened. All of the Christmas cards that were never reciprocated.
"Washed up loser."
"Cock sucking faggot."
"Whiny ass mama's boy."
"Would you two just shut up?" Fulton pleaded, still working to pull Charlie away from the melee as Charlie fought back with all of his might. "You're worse than a couple of eighth graders."
"He started it."
"You're the one who hit me."
"For talking about my dad."
"Immature psycho."
"Go find a spoon and a lighter."
With Adam finally back on his feet, the two Bash Brothers drug Adam and Charlie to opposite ends of the yard, hoping that a bit of distance would help cool the tensions. With the blood from Adam's lip now staining Portman's beloved shirt, the aging middle manager found himself cursing the fact that he'd gotten stuck with his least favorite Duck.
Fucker even still smells the same.
Like old money and impotence.
"Those were some bold words back there for a guy who can't walk..." He pointed out, his sympathy thin for a problem that was so clearly of Adam's own creation.
"Whatever."
"You alright?"
"Of course."
This time, as he looked back over at his old rival, he could see the way that Adam's shoulders sagged; the right further than the left. He could see the sadness in his eyes, and the marks of a guy who'd lost more fights than he'd won.
Slowly, it sank in that the past was the past.
The guy standing next to him wasn't some stuck up middle schooler telling him what he could or couldn't say. He wasn't a ninth grader snubbing the rest of the team to go hang out with a bunch of assholes in Lacoste polos. He wasn't a high school senior, conveniently looking the other way as his fellow preppies ran roughshod over everyone else with their fancy college plans and expensive SUVs. He wasn't even a washed-up investment banker, giving a bored shrug to everyone else's reality.
He was a person.
A person who was hurting in more ways than one.
"So what the hell are you two fighting about, anyway?" He asked, his brow furrowed as they stood under the porch light.
"About the fact that he's an asshole."
Is this how dumb I sounded when I was 16?
No wonder Dad preferred cocktail waitresses to listening to this shit.
"Okay, well, lots of people are assholes..."
"Charlie needs to go fuck himself!" Adam stated, loudly enough to ensure that he could be heard from across the yard.
"Fuck you, too!" Charlie shouted back, Portman rolling his eyes as the argument continued, louder than ever.
"Go back to your trailer park!"
"Go back to being Bubba's little bitch!"
"Quit thinking about what I was doing to your mom last night!"
Holy shit these are a couple of idiots.
"Would you just grow the hell up?" Portman finally asked, shaking his head.
"What? He started it."
"I...don't care who started it. You're 36 years old. You're greyer than I am. Learn to shut your mouth."
"Thirty seven."
"Okay, that just makes it worse, dumbass."
"Whatever."
"Seriously. What's going on with you two?"
"We haven't talked in twenty years. Twenty years without so much as a text or 'like' on Facebook, and yet next thing I know, he's starting in with his bullshit."
Portman grew quiet, just looking down at his flip flops as he thought about that statement. The words replayed in his head as he thought about his own previous two decades, and all of the things his friends had been there for.
"Talking is a two-way thing, you know."
"I did my part."
Portman paused again, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"Look. I...haven't really been around for everything, but I'm guessing Charlie isn't that hard to find. He works like, a mile from your house. I'm not saying he never messed up or nothin', but I'm thinking there's stuff you could have done. Whatever you or he did, it seems like if you would have wanted to talk, you could have."
"Crawford visited me more than he did."
"What?"
"When I was in the hospital. Crawford visited me more than he did."
Things once again grew quiet, only the cicadas chirping in the background. Portman finally just shrugged, still staring down at the ground.
"Crawford didn't work. He had more time. Besides, he like...played golf and drove a Volvo and lived at Ridgewood. Charlie had a lot more to not think about."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"What the hell do you think it means? There's a lot of shit you don't want to have to think about when you're going out there every day."
"That's not an excuse."
"I'm not saying it is. I'm just saying you aren't comparing apples to apples with him and Crawford."
"Guy visited."
"Guy's a good dude." He agreed. "Better than I could have been."
"What do you think we're going to be doing when we're like, old?" Julie mused, her childhood stuffed bear clutched under her arm as she lie in bed next to Adam, looking over at her first love.
"We'll be super rich and sexy and successful, and I'll still be missing you like crazy."
"No you won't." She laughed, rolling over towards him.
Night had set in, and rather than go out, Julie and Adam had elected spend a lazy evening back in her bedroom, savoring the last of their time together. All around, they were surrounded old field day ribbons, and Babysitter's Club books, and trophies from peewees; mementos of an era that was coming to an end. A fan hummed overhead as the two sprawled across the bed, lying side by side as they looked up at the plastic Glow in the Dark stars Julie had affixed to the ceiling as a kid.
"Yes. I will." Adam said softly, reaching over for her hand as he thought about the fact that nobody could ever compare to his beloved goalie.
I'll never stop loving you.
"Nah. You'll be married to like, some supermodel turned actress, and living off in Malibu or something!"
"Malibu?"
"Well, I don't know. Somewhere cooler than Minnesota."
"I think Malibu's pretty warm." He chuckled, still looking up at the ceiling and the plastic constellations above. "If I want somewhere cooler than Minnesota, I think I'm going to have to go to Canada."
"Dork."
"But seriously, what would I talk about with a supermodel?"
"You'll talk about whatever it is that rich and famous people talk about." Julie giggled, looking back over at her junior high crush. His hand enveloping hers, she could feel the cool metal of his signet ring, and the callouses of countless hours in the gym. Lying there in his khakis and t-shirt, she smiled at the effect the years had had on his appearance; the last vestiges of adolescent awkwardness long-gone.
It's like he was just made to be on the front of a Wheaties box.
"I don't know." He replied, pausing as he thought for a moment, chewing at the side of his lip. "I don't think any supermodel could compare to you."
"Well, now you're just blind.
Laughing, Adam shut his eyes and dramatically felt around the bed in search of his beloved girlfriend, his hands "accidentally" landing on her breasts.
"You are such a loser!"
"You can't say that!" He joked, his hands still cupping her breasts. "I'll write to Dartmouth that you make fun of blind people and call them losers, and they'll probably take away your acceptance. You'll have to stay with me, after all!"
"Heh, there would be worse things in the world."
For a minute, the room went quiet, her words reverberating in his mind.
He knew she was only kidding, but still...
Maybe there was hope.
Maybe.
"Have you considered it?" He asked, his voice quieter this time. His hands no longer on her breasts.
Please Julie. I could never love anybody like I love you.
You're my everything.
Julie just shook her head, once again taking his hand in hers. With her thumb, she stroked the top of his hand, half wishing that she'd never have to let go.
"Of course. I always consider it. But it's not the right thing. For either of us."
"It's the right thing for me." He reminded her. "I love you more than anything in this world. For as long as I live, no matter what I do, I'm always going to be thinking about you. I'm always going to love you."
Fat ass, white trash junkie.
Adam sat sprawled across the sofa, a bag of frozen peas resting against the back of his head, and a piece of tissue stopping the blood flow from his lip.
His head pounded from being tackled into the concrete, but louder than the throbbing in his skull were Charlie's words.
He thought about the rolls of blubber that greeted him in the mirror every morning; an unfortunate reality that he did his best to hide.
He thought about Tucker's sixth birthday, and coming to in a Chuck E Cheese bathroom with a paramedic hovering over him. He thought about the look that Tucker gave him; the one that said 'I'm done caring'.
He thought about the time he got the family kicked out of Waffle House, and the twelve stitches under his eye from passing out in his prison cell. The metal bed frame hadn't been nearly as forgiving as his sofa at home, leaving him with a pretty nasty scar. He got to be reminded of that overdose every time he looked in the mirror. Every time he found a stranger's eyes wandering.
He thought about the way that Laura still bought most of their clothes at The Goodwill, and how the kids were on financial aid at school. He thought about how his biggest financial success in the prior two decades had come from being the firm's fall guy, and how his current position paid marginally better than being a Starbucks barista.
About how Starbucks baristas actually had better career trajectories to look forward to than anything in his future; disabled upper-middle class felons a rather niche hire for most places.
"Yeah." He conceded, sinking down into the velour. "He pretty much hit the nail on the head there."
"So...goodbye forever?" Adam asked, his eyes pleading as he lifted his luggage onto the counter at the airport.
All around, harried travelers rushed by as Julie stood next to him, taking in every last second together that she could.
As she looked him up and down, she once again found herself gripped with the sense that she'd made a terrible mistake: Dressed down for his flight, he'd settled on an uncharacteristically casual pair of khaki shorts and a sweatshirt, forgoing his contacts for the glasses normally worn at bedtime.
On a lesser person, the overall impact might have been sloppy, but in his case, it was a welcome contrast to his chiseled features and WASP-y demeanor. Between his sad eyes and scruffy bangs, he looked like the kind of guy Julie wouldn't mind cuddling up with for the rest of her life, medical school be damned.
Why am I letting him go?
"Not forever, silly!" She assured him, taking hold of his hand.
"Okay." He smiled, his head cocked to the side as he squeezed her hand in return. "Good. Any idea when I'll get to see you again?"
"Well, obviously I'm going to have to come celebrate when you make the pros next year!"
"You'll be there?"
"Of course." She laughed, pulling him into a tight hug as they stood there at the baggage counter, the line behind them mercifully lacking. "I wouldn't miss it for the world!"
Even through his sweatshirt, she could feel the rippling muscles of his back, and how rock hard his abs were; the thought of ever letting go of such a body practically a crime against nature.
Seriously.
Why?!
"Awesome."
His bags now checked, the two stood quiet for a moment, the realness of it all still setting in.
...
Every spring before, they had said goodbye, knowing that they'd be back together in three more months. That there would always be a next fall, and that everything would pick right back up where it left off.
They knew that when they saw one another again, the tans might be deeper, and a haircut might have changed, but that the important things would still be the same. That when they saw one another again in three months, they'd both still be the same people they'd been back in May; give or take an inch and a new outfit or two.
This time, though, they knew that there wouldn't be a next fall.
There wouldn't be a continuation of the same.
They knew that by the next time they saw one another, everything would be different.
...
"I think you're going to be awesome at Dartmouth, you know."
"Thanks. Pretty sure you'll be pretty great at Minnesota, too."
Adam just laughed.
"I better be. It's not like I'm much good at anything else."