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I wonder if Chris is busy today.
I head downstairs to the kitchen after I’ve showered and dressed. I’ve been applying a bit of makeup the past couple of weeks since our trip to Shayla’s house. Not that I think Chris prefers Shayla’s thick black eyeliner and perfectly pink pout to my natural look. My reason for putting on makeup is even more pathetic than that.
I’ve convinced myself that by wearing makeup when I’m around Chris, he’ll know that I care about what I look like around him. And that, one day, he’ll tell me how beautiful I am without makeup. Pathetic. I know.
It’s almost three in the afternoon now. I woke up late today and decided to read in bed for a while before I took a shower. A while turned into three hours. So this is the first time I’ve been downstairs all day. I’m starving.
I immediately head for the fridge to make myself a sandwich, when I notice Chris in the backyard, playing with Mr. Miyagi. That poor dog is ten years old and Chris refuses to believe that he doesn’t have the same amount of energy as he did when he was a puppy. But watching them through the window, Chris lying on the grass with Mr. Miyagi jumping and barking at him, it makes my stomach swirl with happiness.
Maybe I don’t have to go anywhere today.
I grab all the stuff for my sandwich, then I peek my head out the sliding glass door into the back yard. “Do you want a sandwich?”
Chris tackles Mr. Miyagi and proceeds to rub his belly. He looks up at me with a huge smile, tongue practically wagging, then he nods.
I fix us both a sandwich and head outside with our plates. It’s a beautiful summer day. So different than it was eight years ago.
I set the plates down on the wrought iron patio table, then I pull out a chair and sit down to eat. Chris heads over to join me and I get a strange feeling in the pit of my belly as I imagine him leaning over to kiss me to thank me for the sandwich. But he doesn’t do that. He just sits down and smiles at the sandwich, then he looks up at me.
“Thanks. Did you just wake up?”
I wait for him to take a bite of his sandwich first. “No. I’ve been reading.”
“What are you reading?” he asks through a mouthful of food.
“Just a book. How’s the sandwich?”
“Delicious.”
I take a bite and realize I forgot the mustard. We eat in silence for a few minutes before I work up the courage to ask him what I wanted to ask.
“Are you going to Tristan’s today?”
“Nah, they’re coming over here. Why? You want to go to Tristan’s?”
I chuckle weakly. He knows I don’t get along with Tristan very well.
“I’m kidding,” he says, putting his sandwich down. “Do you want to hang out?”
I wait a moment so I don’t seem too eager, then I nod. “Yeah. Sure. I mean, today’s … the anniversary of the day my mom died, so I usually do something.”
He seems torn between being excited about doing something and pitying me the way Mrs. Grohl did.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” I continue. “I just thought maybe you’d want to hang out or something. If not, that’s totally cool.”
“I’d love to hang out. Can I take you somewhere on my bike?”
“No,” I reply quickly and he laughs. “Sorry, but that thing scares me.”
“All right. We’ll stay in.” He stares at me across the table. Finally, he smiles. “I know what we’re going to do. And we’ll do it right here.”
Something about the way he says that sounds a little naughty, but I try not to blush. Instead, I take our plates inside and wash the dishes while he gives Mr. Miyagi a bath in the upstairs bathroom. We watch TV for a while as the dog naps on the sofa between us. As requested, Chris doesn’t say anything to his mom about today being the anniversary of my mom’s death. Just before nine, Jackie goes upstairs to take a bath and go to bed so she can get up at four a.m. for work the next morning.
“Don’t stay up too late,” she says as she heads up the stairs.
Chris and I don’t usually stay up too late. It makes me nervous being alone with him when I’m sleepy. Like I’m going to say something stupid.
“Let’s go,” Chris says, nodding toward the backyard.
Mr. Miyagi leaps off the sofa at Chris’s command and I follow after him. “What’s outside?”
He opens the sliding glass door and waits for me to exit before him. “Just wait right here and I’ll be right back.”
He heads back inside the house, then he returns a few minutes later carrying a patchwork blanket and a couple of pillows. And a guitar. He lays the blanket and pillows down on the grass and motions with his hand for me to sit down.
I take a seat on the edge of the blanket and hug my knees to my chest. He sits next to me and smiles as he pulls the guitar into his lap. He plucks the strings a bit as he tunes the guitar, then he looks up with a soft gleam in his eyes.
“I’m going to sing one of the songs I wrote for you. It’s called ‘Blue Fields’.”
I hug my knees tighter as I lay my cheek on my knee and watch him play. The song is actually pretty upbeat and I wouldn’t know it was about me if he hadn’t told me. The lyrics are metaphorical. And his voice, that soft rasp, is like the ribbon that ties it all together.
But even though the lyrics aren’t literal, I’m pretty sure the song is about loving someone as much as you love the sky.
When the song is over, he looks a little embarrassed, so he quickly lies down. “Come on,” he says, patting the blanket behind me. “You have to lie down to look at the stars.”
I take a deep breath and lay back until my head lands softly on the pillow. Chris’s arm is pressed against mine and I find myself wishing there were more parts of him touching me. Then I find myself wishing that I could do this every June 7th for the rest of my life.
“Thank you,” I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.
His arm moves a little, then he grabs my hand and squeezes. “Any time.”
When we wake up on the grass at six a.m. the following morning, all I can think is that we’re lucky Mr. Miyagi is lying between to us instead of begging to be let out into the backyard. And Jackie isn’t the type to check on us in the morning before she leaves to work. So we’re safe.
My arms are wrapped around Chris’s right arm like a boa constrictor, the dog snuggled between our legs. Chris smiles at me, then we head inside to have breakfast.
Forever Holding On
August 9, 2009
There are moments in life that you know will be burned into your memory forever. Chris calls these “movie screen moments” — where everything slows down and you know that something important is about to happen that will change the course of the story. He says that the best songs are written about movie screen moments. I don’t know if this is true. All I know is that this is one of those moments.
I can feel it in the air. And I know that when I look back, I’ll remember everything about this moment in time; the smells, the tastes, the sounds, and the touch. The touch.
Chris and I are both sitting on the carpet with our backs leaned against the sofa, our fingers woven together as MTV plays in the background. This is something we’ve done every day for the past eight weeks, ever since the night we fell asleep in the backyard. As soon as Jackie leaves for work in the morning, we both get up and have breakfast together. He usually makes me a bowl of cereal or I make us both some scrambled eggs. Then we hang out in the living room for a few hours until his friends come over. Sometimes, Chris plays his guitar f
or me. Sometimes, we sit here and pretend to watch MTV, holding hands while Mr. Miyagi lays out across both of our laps, begging to be petted. Well, I don’t know if Chris is pretending to watch MTV, but I know I am.
All I can seem to think about when I’m near Chris is whether or not this will last or if he will be just another person I have to lose. But this doesn’t stop me from enjoying these hours spent together. I’ve never been happier in all my life. Not even when my mom was alive.
I’ll admit. I was sort of hoping today would be different than all the other mornings Chris and I have hung out. Not that I don’t like this small moment of closeness we share every day. But today’s August 9th. My sixteenth birthday.
I guess I figured that would make today even more special for us. I was kind of hoping I might get my first kiss.
“Tristan’s coming over in half an hour and we’re going to the mall. You want to come?”
My heart sinks a little. Chris knows that Tristan and I don’t get along very well. He hasn’t even wished me a happy birthday and now he’s leaving to hang out with Tristan.
I try to let go of his hand and he tightens his grip. “What’s wrong?”
I attempt to pull my hand away again and this time he lets go. “I don’t want to go to the mall.”
“Are you okay?”
I stand up and he immediately stands with me. “I’m just tired. I think I’m gonna go back to bed.”
I take a few steps, but he grabs my hand to stop me. When I look over my shoulder at him, he’s wearing a crooked smile. “Can you take Mr. Miyagi upstairs with you?”
My shoulders slump as I turn toward Mr. Miyagi where he’s lounging on the sofa.
Chris chuckles. “I’m only kidding. I’m not going anywhere with Tristan today. I’m taking you for a ride.”
“What?”
“On my bike.”
“I’m not going on that thing.”
Chris got his motorcycle license the week after he turned sixteen less than three months ago. He’s been trying to get me to ride with him on his crappy racing bike ever since the first time I let him hold my hand.
