She // l.p.

7

We walk together to the door and once its shut I’m searching through the boxes looking for the only box I could possibly care about. The box with the only picture I didn’t manage to rip in a rage of her and I. But after ripping every box open and looking for the frame I know I had to have left it behind. I’m letting her go I am but I always want to remember how it felt to be loved and that what that picture shows. With my feet already in my boots and I’m slamming the door to my new home shut and rushing toward the truck to get the only thing that could hold me back from making a mistake.

A two hour drive it is, nothing but an empty highway and the sun setting with each mile I drive. I’m stuck in a car with my own unnecessary stress eating me alive. That picture’s all I can hold on to for sanity in a strange way. That picture is my closure. We were once the definition of love and once the definition of hate and every time I look at it I’m reminded that maybe we shouldn’t be together, but we can’t ever forget each other. She was not just a learning experience. She was everything and more. She was like the girl every boy never forgets but a woman. She was like the anticipation of having your first kiss as a teen, like having a fire lit in the pit stomach but it all goes with the touch of that girl. She was long nights and early mornings and I’m so thankful she gave me those feelings.

By the time I reach my old home it’s dark, nearly midnight, but none the less that picture is in there and my new home won’t be home unless it’s there. I’m rushing up the steps with my keys in my hand, pushing the door open and immediately spot the left behind box pushed against the wall, smaller than rest – a shoe box really.

“Thank god,” I kneel down to the box, pulling it open and setting eyes on the picture. I put it back in its place, tucking it underneath my arm and standing. For another time I look around, realizing that with this picture I don’t have anything left to tie me here. I toy with the keys twisting my only way into this house off they keychain and setting it on the kitchen counter.

With both of my feet out the door I jog down the steps, ready to really start living again. Maybe somewhere down the line Melissa and I will be able be there for each other. Maybe I’ll have moved on by then and Mel can be the friend to me she intended to be. Maybe our lives will be intertwined but in a healthy way. But I know I have to stop thinking maybes and just be.

The sound of boots shuffling quickly draws my attention and I catch a small figure trying to open their car door. I squint my eyes hard trying to make out if someone was following me but I stumble back when I recognize the messy blonde locks immediately even if I can’t see her face I know it’s her.

“Melissa,” I call but she still fumbles with her keys to get the car open, “Melissa?” This time she freezes, shoving the keys into the brown bag hanging off her shoulder. Slowly she turns around with her head held high, her steps out of the shadows are just as slow as when she turned around but when she finally makes it out I can see her fresh face in the light of the high moon.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she looks sleepy.

Her eyes are little drowsy and her face trying to force itself to look awake. Her hairs been fashioned into something of a ponytail and she wears nothing but an old grey t-shirt, a military jacket that’s long enough to almost cover her knees and sweatpants stuffed into boots.

“No it’s…it’s okay.” Is she okay?

“I don’t know why I came, I should go, but I’m glad you’re doing okay.” Mel turns away from me with small smile and heads toward her car, a new car. I never thought I’d see the day she got rid of that clunker of hers. But now she’s driving a land rover, black and much bigger than her. But just as she opens her door to climb in, I remember I never told her I was ok.