forget-me-nots [h.s.]

eleven

Summer 2012

We had been home from school for about a week and a half, and I hadn't seen him. Which was something that I hadn't thought about before hand, I saw him almost everyday at school whether it was for hours or just a few minutes--it was long enough to check in with each other. I hadn't given thought to the idea that once we moved back home for the summer that I would not see him as frequently, and frankly... I missed him.

This evening was the first time that I would be able to see him since coming home. We had made plans to go to a poetry reading at a local cafe so that we could enjoy the atmosphere and each other's company. It would be the first time that we could hang out without any interruptions, no Ethan, no Talia, no school work--just me and my best friend. I had been looking forward to this all day, and it had been a let down.

He was late; very late, and I was still waiting.

The summer air was hot and humid which had not improved my irritation. He was supposed to be here an hour or so ago, and my butt had started to hurt from sitting on the front step of my house. My bare legs itched with bug bites from my time spent waiting. There had been no text, no call, just me being stood up apparently.

The sun was low in the sky but it was still lit out. Dusk and the hum of the cicadas had been driving me insane. I checked the watch on my wrist for what seemed like the hundredth time, before I stood. I brushed off my dress and waited one last minute before I ultimately decided to turn around and go inside.

I couldn't be angry, could I?

Harry was someone I couldn't stay mad at--not for long at least. He was my best friend; and he was a busy guy. Clearly, he had better things to do this evening than go out with me. We had texted a few times since being home, he had reconnected with some people from out high school who had recently returned home from their schools, and no doubt he had gone on a few dates. He could easily be on one now; but I couldn't be mad... or jealous...or whatever this disgusting feeling was. He was my friend and I was happy if he was happy, and it wasn't like I owned his time. He was his own person, as was I, and he didn't owe me anything.

Still, I took my time walking to my front door, giving him the benefit of the doubt for a moment or two longer before I confined myself to a night of being alone. My hand inched for the door knob, and it was like my whole body was in caramel--move slowly and sweetly.

I heard the gravel of my driveway being torn up by wheels behind me. I turned to see his old beat up car pulling up. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him as he jumped out, not even bothering to turn his car off. I watched as he stumbled over himself, he ran up the steps to meet me. He was short of breath and panting, his brown curls wild, as he hugged me to him.

"I am so sorry!" He huffed into my ear.

I didn't hug him back, which I would admit was a little passive aggressive. He knew that I liked being on time, and I couldn't stand being late to things, and then he would argue his stupid argument about how sometimes it was better to be late. To which I would roll my eyes, and he would say something to make me laugh, and he would be back in my good graces. As I had said, my anger at Harry was never prolonged.

"You're late," I said in a flat voice.

He pulled away from me, his shoulders heaved as he tried to catch his breath, "I wanted to call but my phone died."

"Harry," I began. "It has been an hour."

"I know," he cringed. "My mum dumped a family event on me last minute; I was at my cousin's tee-ball game. I'm sorry."

Obvious surprise crossed my face, "Oh."

"Where did you think I was?" He panted, his brows furrowed in confusion.