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Before Kyle.
It would have been a good life. The kind of life that was easy and simple and predictable in the best way possible.
I feel my chest tighten, my limbs shake a little from the tiredness and exhaustion and heaviness of the past few months. The tears keep flowing silently and I stop trying to hide them from Matt. What's the point?
"I have done nothing but hurt you," he says as his hand finds mine, his fingers twine around my fingers.
But he's also set me free, let me see there's more to life than the handsome boy next door.
"You need to figure things out with Audra," I tell him, wishing I hadn't put on so much mascara. I'm sure I have black, smudged circles around my eyes from the stupid tears that won't stop falling. Should have gone waterproof. I just didn't think I'd be crying tonight.
"I know," he exhales heavily. "But can we pretend for just a few minutes? Pretend I took you on that date? We were going to go to Hugo's and get the meatball subs because—"
"They remind me of my grandma's cooking," I finish, letting out something resembling a sob and a laugh.
His fingers grip mine tighter. "And then we were going to go to the arcade, and I was going to win you that big blue monkey you've been saving up all your tickets for over the years."
I lift my hand, gently touch his face. "It would have been perfect."
He closes his eyes, the wind blows through the front porch, catches a few golden tendrils of my hair. I watch as they float towards Matt, reaching out for him, trying to get to him before the wind stops and they slowly fall back to my shoulder. I drop my hand from his cheek.
He's always been just out of reach.
Always will be.
"And then I would have walked you to the door, given you a kiss goodnight."
The words hang in the air like a broken promise.
A lump forms in my throat and, no matter how many times I swallow, it won't go away.
Neither of us speak for a while. We just sit there, fingers clutching each other, staring out into the dark, quiet night. The truth of what we can't be hanging over us like a guillotine getting ready to slice through what could have been.
Matt lets out a deep breath, turns to me and asks, "Can I stay here tonight? My parents are in Denver til tomorrow afternoon, and I don't want to be alone."
I offer him a small smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine but let me check with Mom real quick."
I let Matt's hand go, stand on weak knees and head inside.
Mom and Dad are curled up on the couch watching some singing competition on TV. Dad's fingers are playing with Mom's hair and her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.
"Mom," I say much quieter than I mean to.
She sits up and turns around. "You're back already?"
I shake my head, unable to stop the tears as they slide down my cheeks.
Ugh.
I thought the tears would have run dry by now. Guess they haven't.
She stands, walks over to me in her soft pink robe. "What happened?"
I motion towards the kitchen, out of ear shot. Dad keeps looking at me like he might actually kill Matt if he finds out he hurt me again.
"Can Matt stay in the guest room tonight?" I ask. "He, um, he got, uh…oh God...it's just..."
"Spit it out, baby," Mom encourages me, slips a strand of blond hair behind my ear.
