Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ✔︎

5 | Let's Say I Agree To This

|photo by Beth Desrosiers from Unsplash|

Monty runs ahead of me, barking a reprimand at a Blue Heron that has the audacity to stalk fish from the grassy edge of our shoreline. The bird makes a graceful exit. Monty charges into the lake anyway. He swims a circle, lapping up water, before he joins me on the dock.

I sit on the warm wood, ease my legs into the water and check out Zachary's Instagram.

It's seriously impressive. The photos have sort of a college-life appeal and are mostly candids. There's none of that trying-too-hard vibe you see on some school websites.

Megan's right. I'd be an idiot not to go there. 

It'd be a no-brainer if I could take her with me.

Monty's happy tail slaps against the weathered dock a few times before the vibration of Glenn's footsteps registers under my bottom. He lowers himself beside me, gives me a quick kiss before he takes off his shoes and drops his legs in the water beside mine, keeping his gaze fixed on the marsh across the lake.

He looks terrible. "Did you sleep?" I ask.

"Not much. Did you talk to your parents?"

"I listened."

He scratches his neck. In the sunlight, the stubble on his chin has a ginger cast. "Officially, it's my decision," I say. "But I think that's just—"

"You should go."

"Go?"

Glenn doesn't answer. I lay my hand on his cheek, urging him to face me. "You think I should go to New York City?"

He takes my hand, sandwiches it between his. "They have three college level math courses. It's a great school, Thea."

Now it's my turn to stare at the marsh, at wiry grass still bowing to winds that are long gone. What are the odds of a tornado destroying a person's school? I bet some people pray for that sort of thing. People right here in Haddock, even.

"You like New York," he says.

"I like to visit. I don't want to live there."

"So think of it as an extended visit. Nine months and you're back home."

"Did you talk to my dad?"

Glenn huffs a laugh and shakes his head. No, they just think alike.

I pull my feet out of the water and drape my wet legs across his lap. He trails his fingertips down my shinbone. "Let's say I agreed to this," I say. "If we're going to be a long distance couple you have to talk to me. Every day. On the phone."

"I've been thinking about that—and not just today. Helen is right to want to put distance between us."

"Please tell me you're kidding," I say.

He presses his lips together. Shit, he's not.

"No, Glenn. Helen is not right. Not about this."

"What if she is?" he asks, holding up a hand like he's trying to fend off my answer. "I took my mom's advice four years ago and it was the smartest thing I've ever done."

"What advice?"

"She told me you were too young for me. It pissed me off at first—I told her she was an idiot—but then after I calmed down..."

"Glenn Nash," I interrupt. "Tell me you did not call your adorable mother an idiot."

"I was fifteen. I was a dumbass."