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“I know it will be okay, amor, it just won’t be the same,” I say.
I feel Hayden turn his head to kiss the side of mine again. “I know.” He turns his body and maneuvers me so that we’re laying on our sides facing each other. “But no matter what happens, no matter how hard it gets out there,” he gestures with his chin towards my bedroom door and the apartment beyond it, but I know he means out in the real world, “nothing changes between us. You and me, baby. It’s you and me.”
He leans down and captures my lips between his, kissing me deeply and passionately. I melt into him, my hands going under his shirt so I can feel the heat of his skin. He gently rolls on top of me, holding his weight and letting me lift his shirt up and up until he helps me get it over his head. He leans back down and brushes his fingers from my temple to my jaw, then over my lips before leaning down to kiss me once.
“You and me.”
FORTY-SEVEN
NOW, SPRING
I guess hiking is becoming our thing. We’ve gone almost every Sunday for the past month, when we haven’t been helping Maddie and Elliot. This morning, with the plan for a picnic, we hiked up a trail that led us to a circular clearing with long overgrown grass and a small pond in the middle. I spy a few flowers starting to pop up.
“In a few weeks, this place will be covered in wildflowers.” He smiles at me.
“You’ll have to bring me back then so I can see it.” I grin back at him. He bites down on his lip, smothering his wide smile a bit before picking up his backpack and walking over to a small hill where the grass is shorter, almost like it's been squished down by many picnic blankets over the years. He starts pulling out containers and a few bottles of water. He pulls out a blanket and spreads it out, then motions for me to sit down, which I do. I sit cross-legged and lean back on my hands. He sits next to me, his knees bent slightly and his arms resting over them. He takes a deep breath before passing me a water.
We both drink heartily for a few moments, and I find myself more tired and sore than I realized. I look up at him when he says, “Okay, I brought some sandwiches. I put them against an ice pack so hopefully they stayed cool.” He passes me a foil wrapped circle and I open it to find a turkey and cheese sandwich on a hard roll.
“This is perfect, thank you,” I say sincerely, giving him a smile.
“I also stole some goods from my family’s bakery,” he says, pulling out some conchas, cookies, and bread.
“Oh man, David,” I sigh. “All these carbs…you’re the best.” I laugh and can see the little bit of blush on his tan skin. My eyes focus on that pink for a moment remembering how easily I made Hayden blush. I feel sadness, but I also feel fondness too, realizing I can remember him in a positive light without it hurting so bad.
“You okay?” David asks, and I look from his cheek to his eyes. I didn’t realize I had zoned out. I quickly nod my head.
David opens his own sandwich and takes a bite, chewing slowly. When he swallows he says, “You know if you ever want to talk—” He clears his throat before continuing, “Uhm, about anything. Or about him you can.” He gives me a serious and sincere look. “You can talk about him, tell me about him. Tell me whatever you want.”
I look at him without speaking for a moment. Several moments. Enough time passes that I take a bite of my sandwich and then drink some more water. He waits patiently, eating his own sandwich.
But then he finally says, “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean?—”
I cut him off. “You didn’t.” I sigh and repeat, “You didn’t.”
We look at each other for a minute. I open my mouth to talk before closing it again, unsure of what to say. How to start. He waits patiently, his face a picture of calm and compassion. Warmth and understanding.
“His name was Hayden,” I start, not sure if I ever told him his name. “He was the complete opposite of me. Not my type and not anyone I would have pursued or thought about dating.” I laugh once. “He was just a complete bobo.” Goof. I laugh again and David chuckles too. “He had this way of being completely comfortable and unapologetically himself around anyone. He could make anyone laugh or smile, he could make anyone feel better.” I stop for a moment, feeling emotions well up.
But these are not emotions that make me want to shut down. They don’t make me want to retreat into that dark hole in the pit of my chest and hide from feeling anything other than the pain of his absence, or losing him and waking up each day without him. I used to close my eyes and see the moment he left me, over and over and over again.
But these emotions and remembering him—his life, not his death—make me feel true peaceful, quiet joy.
“How did you meet?” David asks gently.
I laugh again, a small laugh. “He crashed into me with his skateboard.” David’s eyes widen and he smiles, then lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, and it was the most bizarre conversation that followed. I thought he was such a weirdo, but I also instantly had a little crush on him.”
I take another bite of my sandwich before continuing. “He had longer blonde hair that he mostly wore in a bun, and I guess he had a skater style. I never knew how to describe his style. Lots of black and band shirts, and skateboard shoes. Turns out, despite our first meeting, he was actually really good with his skateboard, but he was also so clumsy.” I laugh again.
“We met at the beginning of our freshman year of college,” I continue, finding contentment in walking down memory lane for the first time in a long time. “It took a few weeks for him to convince me to go out with him. Honestly it wasn’t that I didn’t want to,” I admit. “I was definitely playing hard to get.” I roll my eyes and David laughs. “He was just like no one I had ever met or experienced before.” I look up at the sky and take a deep breath. “He was so kind, and thoughtful. So funny and genuine. He really made me look at the world differently. He made me a better person.” I look back down at David, tears glistening in my eyes.
“It sounds like he was incredible. I’m so happy you had him, but I’m even more sorry that you lost him,” he says, his voice soft and full of emotion. “I wish I could bring him back for you.”
I choke on a tiny sob that slips through my mouth. I nod my head and shut my eyes tight. “Me too.” I cover my face with my hands and I feel David shift closer to me, putting a hand on my knee, a silent reassurance that I’m not alone. I pull my hands away and wipe my eyes quickly. “I’m so sorry. Crying over my dead boyfriend while we’re on a date.”
“No, don’t do that,” David says, his tone a mix of serious and kind. “You don’t have to apologize ever, for talking about him or crying for him. He was and will forever be a part of you. You never have to apologize for that.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” I ask. “It would annoy most people.”
