The Writers' Avenue Issue 3: YOLO

I Promise You

Alva Avve Madden

Where do you want to go? I’ll take you anywhere, I promise. Take my hand and I’ll take you around the world.

We’ll walk the beach of Bali together, just you and me. We’ll surf the waves of Australia, falling hard into the water when we lose our balance on the board. We’ll climb the mountains of Japan, we’ll even hike up Fuji. We’ll lie together in a hammock in the jungle in Chile, with me in your arms. We’ll dance all night in the clubs of Germany. We’ll even go bungee jumping, after a long time of convincing and assuring. You’ll say you hate it, but I’ll know deep inside you love the thrilling rush. We’ll buy ourselves a little house in the suburbs of America, and from there we’ll settle down.

It can happen, I promise.

We can do all that, I promise.

I’ll be a highly-acclaimed author, with lots of writing to do. And you’ll be a successful doctor, like you always wanted to. We’ll be working odd hours, and at times we’ll barely even meet during the week, but that’s okay. It’s okay. We’re used to being apart, aren’t we? We’ll make it work. Before we settle down, we’ll be living in a small apartment in Manhattan, won’t we? We will, I promise! 

That was my dream, not yours, but you gave it up for me. You’ll give it all up for me, you said. You said that you didn’t care, just as long we were together. I promise you, you said that. Your dream was to move away, wasn’t it? Away from your home country, you wanted to Asia, you said. But you said you’d give it up for me.

You said we will never be apart, you promised that. You said it would always be us.

And I promised you all those plans. I said to you, as I cried, and I said you’d promise you’d make it there. You actually had promised to take me there.

But you became weak. Your faith let you down. No, you weren’t weak, your body was. Your cells began dividing, too much, too fast. Too many for your body to handle. They formed lumps in your beautiful belly, and I guess everyone knows what happened next.

You said goodbye to me, one night on the beach. You said you’d always love me, and I told you that you were an asshole for letting go, for giving up. On you, on me, on us. I asked you what you thought I was supposed to do know once you were not with me anymore. You said you wanted me to tell you about all the places we’d go.

We’d go to Iceland to run around in the snow, and then fall on top of each other. We’d sit quietly on a restaurant in Cape Town, both of us just reading a book. We’d go to the opera in Sydney, and you’d hush at me for laughing.

And I promised you that we’d do that, if you’d only let me to.

And you said, that we’ll go there. We’ll get there someday.

And I just couldn’t believe you.

I promise you, I never did.