After a ridiculously full and fast spring, it's the brink of summer, and I'm here saying good-bye to my best friend for three months. My mom had dropped me off at Sam's early this morning and Ethan is going to pick me up in a bit so we can spend the day together.
"I'm not okay with this," I say mournfully as we finish breakfast. "I need you."
"Hey," she says, sipping the last of her coffee, "you've been needing me less and less now that Mr. Blue Eyes is in the picture."
In a way it's true. I've opened up to Ethan about a lot more in my life, and sometimes – but only sometimes – I find myself wanting to tell Ethan about something new before I even tell Sam.
"You'll always be number one," I insist.
"Stop it now. Of course you'll always be my best friend," she says. "But we'll probably both get married some day, and we can't always be number one to each other. And that's okay by me. Ethan is the cream of the crop. And if you don't marry him, I will!"
I laugh at her. "I'm not going to marry him, Sam! We're just hanging out. We're just friends, remember?"
"Bullshit!" She scoffs. "I've known you since we were in grade school. I can tell something has changed in you, and it's not just your missing leg or the peace you seem to have about it now. Even if you don't know it, I do. You're in love with Ethan."
I close my eyes. I want to tell her she's wrong, but I can't.
And she knows it.
We're interrupted by the doorbell. She runs to open it and comes back with Ethan. "Good morning," he smiles at me and gives me a kiss on the forehead. Sam gives me an I-told-you-so look and I roll my eyes.
"Good morning to you," I return Ethan's greeting.
Mrs. Carlisle yells from another room, "Sam! Come get your stuff! We have to get moving!" Ethan disappears with her and comes back with all of her bags, lugging them out to her mom's van. I follow them outside, not even trying to hide my misery at her imminent departure.
"It will go so fast, you won't even miss me," Sam tells me, hugging me one last time before climbing into her mom's van.
"I'll miss you like crazy!" I say, pouting at her.
Her mom starts to pull away from the curb while she yells back to me, "You have him to keep you company now!" Ethan is standing close behind me and we both start laughing. It's no secret to either of us that Sam has been playing matchmaker since Day One.
"Ready?" He asks.
"Sure."
"I can't believe you've never been to Be A Tourist In Your Own Town!" He says, smiling like a kid who just got out of school for the summer.
I guess it never caught my interest before. But now that I'm going with Ethan, I'm much more into the idea. We drive into Lansing and park as close to downtown as we can get. Luckily, I have my handicapped parking placard, so we get a decent spot at least to catch a shuttle.
I still find stairs challenging from time to time since I don't have my permanent leg yet. I will probably get one with a microprocessor knee, but the temporary one is just the base model. I've done stairs at therapy, but the step onto the bus is quite high, so Ethan lifts me with ease and plants me on the top step. I might have been embarrassed a few months ago, but now I'm fine with it. I'm actually starting to think it's sweet the way he always looks out for me.
I had finally let my mom talk me into wearing shorts. I knew I'd get a lot more stares today, especially with all the small children and families who come from all over to take advantage of the myriad of free activities downtown. But in a way, it seemed like the best idea, just jumping right in and letting everyone stare so I can get used to it. Besides, it's already blazing hot despite the fact it's only the first weekend of June.
The shuttle bus is packed, so Ethan and I stand and hold onto the bar. A young guy gets up and offers me his seat, but Ethan wraps his arm firmly around my waist, and I'd rather remain close to him, so I politely decline. "I've got her," Ethan confirms and the guy gives him a funny grin.
Our first stop is a little art studio where we can create our own paintings. I look at Ethan skeptically. "You're the artist, not me! I can barely draw a stick person."
"Oh, come on, it will be fun," he begs me. "If yours turns out really horrible, we'll just say that a three-year-old did it."
"Thanks a lot," I say, while he ties an apron around my back.
While Ethan paints a beautiful nature scene, I fumble around with two stick-ish people, one with brown hair and one with fiery red curls, and they're holding hands. When he looks at my finished product, he holds back a laugh and says, "Okay, we can say it was a two-year-old."
I give him a mock dirty look and smack him with a paint brush. The attendant gives us a warning glance, so I decide not to engage in an all-out paint war. I just tell him he can have it since it's probably the best painting I've ever done.
After our painting adventure, we make our way through downtown, watching live music and dance performances, tasting samples of all kinds of food, and getting very hot and tired. After a while, we find a bench in the shade and sit down with gigantic lime slushies.
"I need to fix my leg," I tell him.
"Where are your socks?" He asks, referring to the different covers I have for the the liner that fits onto my leg. I have to adjust them throughout the day depending on how much wear I'm getting.
"In my bag." I had brought a small, bright pink knapsack instead of a purse, since I have to carry a few additional things from time to time, like prosthetic socks.
He removes it from my back and digs inside. "Tight or loose?" He questions.
"It's feeling pretty loose right now," I tell him. "But I've never really done this in public."
"It's not like it's your underwear or anything," he chuckles.
"I know, it's just weird, maybe, if I take off my leg. What is some kid sees me and has nightmares for the rest of his life about the crazy lady with the bizarre removable leg?"
"Yeah, because you look like such a freak," he says, laughing. "It's not a big deal, I'm sure. Besides, I'm more scared by tattoos and stretchers and spikes. That stuff gives me nightmares."
I break into laughter and then relax and let him detach my leg, while I nervously watch people's reactions. A lot of people look over in curiosity as they walk by but most people are absorbed in the sights, sounds and smells around us. Of course, a lot of kids stare, craning their necks even as they move farther and farther away.
One little boy, a tiny little thing who can't be more than three, stops while his mom steps up to a concession stand. He looks at me, then at the leg, then at me again. Ethan finishes putting the sock on and re-attaches my leg. The little boy's mom grabs his hand and walks away, oblivious to what had caught his attention. But Ethan and I burst into hysterical laughter as we hear him exclaim to her, "Mom! That lady was a robot!"
"See?" Ethan says. "You're pretty cool!"
We walk a little way and then Ethan remarks, "Maybe this is too much walking for you."
"I'm good so far," I insist. "Really. I'll tell you when I've had enough, okay?" We walk a bit more, but then I realize that I really am getting wiped out. And it looks like it's going to rain.
"Hey," I say, stopping Ethan. "I guess I am getting tired. Maybe we should head back?"
With a quick nod, we turn around and head to the nearest shuttle stop. On the drive back to my house in Charlotte, the skies open up and pour buckets of rain onto everything in sight. There are some pretty good lightning strikes and soon the thunder starts.
"Oooh, you know what I like to do during thunderstorms?" I ask.
"What's that?" He asks with eager curiosity.
"Cozy up in the living room and watch movies," I tell him as we pull into my driveway. "Or maybe play board games. Can you stay for a while?"
"I'm free all day," he grins. "Was planning on spending it with you."
My parents aren't home, which surprises me until I remember that my father had a meeting near Detroit, so my mom went with him so she could shop and then they could have dinner together. So, Ethan and I have the place to ourselves, which isn't unusual, since our families are so busy. But I like the idea of us hunkering down together during the storm and having no interruptions.
"Since it's storming, we could watch The Perfect Storm," Ethan suggests, rifling through our movie collection. My dad is a huge movie buff and has an enormous collection, which is ironic since he's hardly ever home to watch them.
"Ugh, no. That movie was so sad. Something a bit more lighthearted."
"How about Jurassic Park? There's a big storm in that one, too."
"It doesn't have to be about a storm, you goof!" I say, laughing.
"Jurassic World?" He asks with his eyebrow raised.
"No dinosaurs!" I yell.
"Ten Things I Hate About You!" He practically yells back.
"Chick flick? Are you sure?" I tease.
"I have sisters, remember?"
We end up watching that, and then Grease, followed by Titanic. It's a sappy love fest kind of afternoon, I guess. And evening. During the movies, we snack, chat, change positions, and we end up close, with his arm around me and me snuggling in tight against his chest. This isn't exactly just-friends behavior, but I think we both know we're moving beyond that.
I'm still just a little too scared to say it.
* * * * *
Did you catch my little break in the 4th wall there near the end? LOL. I have to watch Jurassic World on a weekly basis so I can keep up my Chris Pratt inspiration ;) Look at him in that picture at the top - could he be any cuter???
I don't know if it matters or if anyone will really care, but the town that Sarah lives in is actually pronounced differently here in Michigan for some dumb reason. It's called, "Char-LOTTE" with the emphasis on the 2nd syllable. So if you say it like the name Charlotte or Charlotte, North Carolina, people will just look at you like you have no idea what you're talking about, lol.