Quinn never rode a bike, or drove, she just walked, and i could never keep up with her even though i ran. I liked it this way, I liked chasing after her. "How did you end up breaking your face that one time?" I asked one afternoon as we strolled though downtown OakField, she tilts her head accordingly, allowing her blue stained locks to cascade down her shoulder. "I never told you?" she said, me immediately murmuring a agreeing hum. "I probably had a reason for that, right?" she said, keeping a light tone while still serious. "yeah, okay." i sighed, I was still curious but I let it go.
This was how it was, some things we didn't talk about like family and other serious stuff. I liked it this way, i liked things not being serious. Besides, I didn't want her to hate me yet.
. . .
Who is Scott really? Scott use to be my 26 year old neighbor freakishly obsessed with plants. Yes, my best friend is a grown ass botanist. I've known ever since a gardening spade smashed though my first floor bedroom window.
. . .
initially, it was just the sound that disturbed me, yet the sudden burst of broken glass did quite a bit of scarring. At the time i was sitting on my bed with my back facing the window, so the only injury i still have is a small cut at the back of my neck.
"SHIT shit shit" a croaky voice cursed, getting louder and louder as he nears the window. I duck out of view which is fairly easy considering that the windows non transparent glass is not fully broken. a slender arm reaches though the hole in the window and feels around for a bit, finally finding the small spade.
At first, I watched quietly as the hand stays clutched to the spade. I expected him to go to the front door to apologize and explain, or at least run off like some coward. I looked outside to check, and found out he had done the unexpected.
. . .
I ended up carrying my passed out 26 year old neighbor a block to the madhouse, and about 20 minutes later we became best friends. One year after we met, Scott and I were siting around a low table, our eyes locked on a stupid board game. Scott said he wanted a "fun bonding activity" but hes actually just a dork with a passion for life, ironic isn't it.
As my mind starts to wonder off the game, I hear a loud clap. "MORRI!" Scott squeals my name, "hm? what does this mean?" i ask dumbly pointing to the image of a church on the game board. "YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED, i better be the maid of honor bitch" he exclaims loudly, shaking my shoulders for a bigger effect. "isn't that only for wom-," i tried to say, rudely getting shushed, and a ziplock bag shoved into my hands.
Stuffed with the game pieces, I go to grab a peg that will represent my spouse, but i hesitate noticeably. My hand fumbles and i slowly pull out a pink peg. A dark shadow falls over Scotts face, but he quickly plasters a smile on his face. "well, you aren't doing it traditionally, so why can't I be maid of honor?" he chuckles, i smile in response, relieved I finally told him. the tears pour out, "aw kid come here" he whispers, pulling me into him for a hug.
Why do I still try to reach him?
Why can't I accept that he'll never return any of my emails?
Why cant I accept the fact that Scott Halburn is dead?
