PART 2

27

Sometimes it doesn't matter how many months have passed, one glimpse of something we once knew so well can send us hurtling back in time. For that split second it takes our brain to catch up, it drags everything else along with it, including our emotions. So, as I pass through the park on my daily run and see her there, it takes my head a few moments to register the fact that it's been four years and the whole of college since I last saw her, and not the matter of days my churning stomach and fast-beating heart would have me believe.

My rhythm falters and my feet slow as I realize she's not alone. Running back toward her and grabbing her hand is a small boy. They both laugh as she allows herself to be dragged along to the swing set where she lifts him onto the seat and sends him high up into the air. A series of squeals and 'hold on tight's wind their way over to me through the air.

She looks happy and carefree, and I'm reminded this is when she's at her most beautiful. When did I last see her laugh like this? Catch her hair as it blows out in the wind? Smile so widely and genuinely? I think she was probably fifteen. All those lost years when I clung on to the damaged shell of what she had become and everyone asked what I saw in her. This. Just this. I knew it was still buried in there somewhere, long after everyone else had forgotten it ever existed.

The child squeals loudly and my attention's drawn to him. His hair is lighter than Izzy's, but his features are similar. I assume he must be hers because as far as I know, her dad is the only family she has in town. I guess the boy's four, maybe five years old.

I do the math.

My feet stop working completely and a hot flush flows across my skin.

Of course, there were guys before and guys after, but there was only one time Izzy was away from Forks long enough for nobody here to know.

He looks up and sees me staring at them; points me out to her.

Izy raises her head and I can tell the exact moment she realizes it's me. Her hands falter as she reaches forward to push his small body higher and then she reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. I see her lean in and speak to him and then she steps away from the swings and toward me, glancing back as she comes closer, to check he's stayed put.

I consider breaking back into a run; turning without looking back and pretending I didn't see a thing. But I'm not seventeen any more.

So I stand and I wait and I pray.