Brick
We were only seventeen, had our whole lives ahead of us. We were supposed to be unstoppable. But at that moment, in that time, we weren't. I couldn't tell you how she felt. I wasn't even sure myself. We decided to do the logical thing and didn't think twice about it. Except that we did; the past week had been consumed with nothing but thoughts of 'what if?'
I met her when I was sixteen. My friends and I were at the local café, as per usual on a Friday night. She was a waitress there, and although not ours, I couldn't help but keep my eyes off of her. We were standing up, placing the tip on the table, when she slipped on a piece of ice and fell down flat. I was making my way around to help her up when her deep laughter stopped me in my tracks.
She was laughing at herself.
I ended up helping her up that night and over the course of the next seven months, she ended up helping me. I never had to pretend with her and she never held back with me. She told me when I was being a jackass and I made sure she knew she was a pain in the ass.
We worked.
I loved her, more than anything but that didn't matter much now. Gone was her bright smile and infectious laughter. Even I could admit that things had changed within me as well. I'd had forgotten how to joke with friends and my once infamous smirk refused to even show.
I refused to believe that it would change anything between us. She was my best friend and I was her confidant. This was just a minor bump in the road. But she knew and I did as well that this was the biggest thing to happen to us; and our fragile young love.
I had always planned to marry her simply because she was everything I ever wanted and someone I strived to be like. But we were seventeen and knew everything and nothing at the same time. Her brains had won her education at an Stanford and my talent on the court had secured my fate at Duke.
We simply just could not give that up.
Not for this, not yet.
It was only a few weeks ago that I had actually proposed to her. I knew, deep down, that what we had was unbreakable and I wanted to prove that to her. Thanksgiving brought us together and afterwards we laid at the Rivercourt, wrapped in blankets to protect us from the cold, and stared at the stars. I didn't have a ring or a plan, just a promise of my love. I told her then my intentions and her smile was all it took to tell me she felt the exact same way.
Now I wonder if that smile was just a figment of my imagination. Even on that first night I helped her up from the floor I felt an instant connection with her. Later on, that union only intensified with our passion for one another. For the past week, I've felt lost and empty and completely disconnected from her heart.
It was passion that put us here and now.
Even though we weren't each other's firsts, once we bonded and melded together, it might as well been. All others that came before and any that could possibly come after would never compare us. I made sure that every touch that caressed her smooth skin made her feel special and loved because that was exactly how her touch made me feel.
You don't believe it'll happen to you. You don't think about it, you don't prepare for it, but it always takes you completely off guard. It's one of the things you get warned about and you feel sympathy towards people who go through it but you just know it'll never take place in you're life. But it can, it does, and it is.
It was a week ago, a week before Christmas; she walked into my room her beautiful face puffy and red. Concern was my first thought as she sank into my arms and started to sob. It was impossibly to get a coherent word out of her so I just rubbed her back and stroked her hair until calm seeped in and she finally spoke.
Those two words hit you like a ton of bricks.
I don't remember what I said exactly but mostly I just remember feeling pretty blank. Like it wasn't really happening to us, just someone familiar who I was suddenly feeling sorry for. It was odd, because for the first time we couldn't easily carry a conversation; and this one perhaps was the most important.
Words failed us.
In the end, she just laid in my arms until she feel asleep. I held her the entire night, as sleep would not grant me any serenity. I doubt God was listening much either. That night I sorted through my feelings, my thoughts, and the different scenarios and finally came up with a conclusion.
One, I'd come to find out, she didn't particularly agree to.
Christmas was a bit greyer that year. No one suspected a thing even with the constant notion that I was wearing every one of my thoughts on the perfectly starched polo shirt gracing my torso. But I knew; the sadness in her eyes was enough to rip me in two, and for once, I could make everything right. And failing just wasn't something I did.
Ever.
When she asked me to take a walk that evening I didn't hesitate for a second. I missed her; she had been avoiding me, and without her I didn't have my best friend to talk to. Before I could even voice my opinion, my conclusion, she had already announced her intentions.
Shock doesn't even begin to touch what I was feeling.
Hurt.
Anger.
Denial.
Confusion.
Sadness.
Relief?
I stood at the railing to the docks right near the very table we had our first breakfast. A Cracker Jacks bracelet was all I gave her at the time but from that point on, I made sure she could never say I never gave her anything. My heart rested in her chest directly above the life that grew inside her.
A life we created.
She talked and I suppose I listened. I can't tell you now what she said, mostly I think she just spoke her reasoning and said her peace; the peas and carrots of the whole situation. I didn't have to listen though, it didn't matter. Her mind was already made up. I chose instead, to focus all my attention on the rippling waters of the river before me.
I didn't notice her stop speaking until she placed a small square piece of paper in my hand. With tears in her eyes she whispered 'Merry Christmas' and placed a small kiss on my cheek; the first one she had given me in a week. Looking down at the picture in front of me, the very image of our love, I gave into my own tears that had refused to spill before.
She wanted it do the next day; the day after Christmas. Her parents had left early that morning and we were about to make the short journey to next town over. I got her things together as she sat blankly on the sofa, picking at the hem of her oversized shirt. She explained to me that she didn't know; for nearly four months she hadn't noticed that she was steadily gaining weight and had routine sickness.
Strained silence filled the car on the drive to the clinic. For once, she didn't hold my hand and sing gracefully with the music. She finally fell asleep half way through and I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the last time I was gonna watch her sleep. Something was breaking inside of her, and me, well I was just trying to ignoring the ripping in my own chest.
I wondered if it was the coldness of the seat beneath me that numbed me to my core.
Once I pulled into the parking lot, my breath hitched in my throat and I wondered if I should wake her. For a few moments, sitting in my car watching the angry protesters, I debated putting the car in reverse and going back home to keep her safe. She stirred beside me and blinked; rubbing her eyes tiredly and I just sighed and turn the key that would keep us there.
She didn't say anything but didn't make a move to leave either. I think the enormity of everything was weighing down on her just as much, if not more, than it was on me. Finally she reached over, wrapping her small arms around my neck and let me envelop her in a hug.
"I love you." She said at last pulling back and cupping my face. She gave me a sad smile and ruffled up my hair before she spoke again. "But I need to do this on my own."
Of course I protested. I begged and pleaded for her to let me be there for her. I had to be there to hold her hand and convince her that everything was gonna be okay. She wouldn't let me in and I wanted to believe it was for my own good. But mostly I just felt like she was shutting me out of her heart.
I wondered around the streets for the time she was gone. I bought her some flowers but quickly gave them to a random lady on the street knowing that flowers would do nothing for her soul. I found a park nearby and sat down taking out the small velvet box in my pants pocket. It was her Christmas gift; small and to the point but she would've loved it. I twisted the metal around in my hand watching as the stone glistened in the early light of morning.
After stopping by a nearby pawn shop, I returned sometime later and walked into the sterile clinic and sat down amidst several other women who looked no older than myself. Thankfully I didn't have to wait long as they brought her out; I paid, and carried her to the car, gently placing her in the seat. She didn't know it, and I doubt she ever would but half way though the trip I pulled over and just watched her sleep one last time. I pushed the hair out of her face and kiss her forehead and whispered my love to her.
Once we arrived back to her house, I once again carried her upstairs to her bedroom, helped her get undressed, and made sure she was completely covered up. The irony did not escape me that she was recovering in this bed from a procedure that was a direct result of an action that had taken place earlier.
I watched her sleep; crying ever so often, feeling less and less like a man every time. It struck me though at some point that I wasn't one to begin with. We both we kids going through something that should've never happened to begin with. It was supposed to happen years from now when we were settled and these tears would've been those of joy and not sorrow.
Things were never the same after that.
Weeks went by and she refused to see me. She never returned to school. People started to talk. Friends became suspicious. Parents became concerned. I didn't know what to tell them and I was tired of lying and making excuses. I missed her and sleep never came over my worry over her.
It wasn't until nearly Valentine's Day that everything came out. Coming home from practice one day and walking into my home I found my parents with hers and there off to the side…her. Joy didn't last long as I took in her broken appearance.
I sat beside her and took her hand as our parents demanded to know what had happened and what was wrong. They told us it was time to tell the truth. She clearly wasn't fine and everyone knew I wasn't as well. She squeezed my hand letting me know that she couldn't say it and I sighed as I began to recount that day in December.
Everyone cried.
I refused.
Too many nights had been wasted mourning her and us and the life that was destroyed that day.
I didn't listen to what they had to say; it wasn't really important to me. From the day I met her, only her words meant anything to my heart, mind, and soul. But she refused to speak as well. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, she returned my gaze and the look and her eyes spoke volumes.
We were over.
I suppose it had been the moment she walked into that clinic but the eternal optimist in me refused to believe it. I drowned out the rest of what they were saying and when I looked up next, they were gone and we were by ourselves. I remember thinking that here I was next to the love of my life and I had never felt more alone.
We didn't speak as I cradled her body in my arms taking in her scent for the last time. Finally we got up and I took her back home. I took my time, relishing in the last few minutes we had together. Our ending was a lot more quiet than our explosive beginning.
The last time I saw her was as I watched her walk up the pathway to her house. I glanced at her parent's window and recalled when I had thrown pebbles there to beg her to forgive me. I stared at the tree had I climbed up many a nights to sneak into her window. Looking at the swing on her front porch I could almost hear myself profess my love for her for the first time.
All that was years ago.
I never returned to that town and those memories once I left that year. I moved on and grew up but never forgot. I heard she did the same and that eventually she was okay too. I was relived that she found peace with her marriage and children. After all, her happiness was most important to me even if it wasn't me who was doing it.
Few came after her and the ones who did manage to burrow their way into my heart never came close to what I felt for her; not even the mother of my children.
I promised her always and forever.
I meant it.
"She's a brick and I'm drownin' slowly"