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“What?”
“To think that when I was in middle school you were…”
I do the math in my head and picture that part of my life, even now after all this time, still vivid in my mind… Hair, dark like a raven’s wing, brushing across my face and down my chest… “Married,” I manage to say, the memory feeling like a rock inside my stomach.
Sasha’s step falters and I look back to make sure she’s still coming. Her lips are pressed together, and she’s staring at me.
“I guess I…” she hesitates, “of course you were.” She continues walking.
She does a bad job of hiding her discomfort.
“I thought you knew.” I know she said she doesn’t read tabloids, but I thought Erin would have at least told her some things.
“Why would I know that?”
“My whole life is on the internet for anyone to look up.” I run my hand through my hair. “A lot of it is in Jack’s book, too.” He couldn’t have told his story without taking pieces of mine. Our lives are so woven together.
“Well,Ididn’t look,” she says as if it should be common sense.
Sometimes I forget that all of the drama in my life was before her time. People don’t usually recognize me on the street or in the record store. I haven’t been in the public eye for a very long time. It was wrong of me to presume that she already knew everything about me.
“Why wouldn’t you?” I ask. I’m honestly curious.
“Because I wanted you to be the one to tell me who you are.” She looks away from me, her eyes squinting at the small rays of sun that seep through the tree branches. “You did, and now I made it awkward.”
“You didn’t make it awkward. I did.” I shouldn’t have brought it up, but it just came out in the moment.
I take her hand in mine and we continue to walk down the trail. It’s a beautiful hike and I can’t believe I’ve never been here, but I like exploring new things with Sasha. She makes me feel young, like there’s still life left to discover, and to see it through her eyes makes it fun.
“What was she like?”
I let go of her hand and rub the back of my neck. An onslaught of memories invades my mind, and none of them are something I want to share. Sweat starts to trickle down my back, even though the trees have provided enough shade to lessen the heat.
“It was a very long time ago,” I finally answer, knitting my brows together.
Sasha’s quiet as we duck under the canopy of trees. “I don’t mean to pry,” she says, “I just want to know you.”
“Ask me about anything else,” I beg her, pleadingly. “I want you to know me; I really do, but not that, not yet.”
She purses her lips, and for a moment I think she’s upset with me, but she touches my face and says, “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
She grabs onto my hand which I appreciate more than she’ll ever know. Up ahead there’s another creek, except this one is only a trickle of water. I look over at her and she laughs, breaking the tension.
“Why is there so much water?” I grumble.
“Oh stop being a grump.” She holds out her hand and we walk across, using a rock to save my shoes from getting wet again. Before we are all the way across, I reach down and splash a little water on her legs.
“Hey!” She smacks my arm, almost causing me to topple into the water.
I grab onto her to steady myself and jump across. Her laughter is infectious, and I find myself smiling more than I ever have
“What made you want to play the bass?” she asks.
“Paul Simmone.”
Sasha scrunches her nose in that cute way she does when she’s confused. “I don’t know who that is.”
I put my arm around her shoulders and roll my eyes. “Ah, well then, let me educate you onThe Clash,” I say playfully.
