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“Don’t go,” was all I could say.
I didn’t know it then, but those two words changed the course of our lives and fused us together.
She didn’t reply. However, her cautious stare was still locked with mine. Neither one of us was able to look away from each other. It was evident my attraction to her was very much reciprocated. Our stares mirrored one another while more questions plagued our minds. I wanted to know everything about her.
The good.
The bad.
The ugly.
I knew there wasn’t a lot of good in her past. Maybe not even in her present. Her future, though, I could make that good, and I knew that when I was only sixteen-years-old.
“What’s wrong?” I finally asked with sincerity laced in my tone. I didn’t want to scare her away, but I had to know. I had to fix it.
I had to fix her.
“Mind your own business, Christian.” Her voice was an equal mixture of anger and sadness as her face frowned, almost like she regretted what she’d just replied. Allowing her memories to speak for themselves.
Her response stung, but it didn’t shock me. We were strangers, and she barely knew me. She’d only heard awful things about me. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to open up. If anything, I was happy her first instinct was to protect herself.
Her wall was so tall and thick, and all I wanted to do was break through her icy demeanor.
I wanted her to let me in. If only for a second, I’d take it.
“I’m making it my business, Kinley, but I’ll settle for a smile instead.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, and I took the opportunity to sit in the same spot she’d just stood from. Waiting for I didn’t know what.
I did the only thing I could in a moment that felt bigger than us.
I spoke from the heart. “You know we all have sad stories,” I shared, catching myself off guard. I’d never opened up to anyone, but she wasn’t just anyone, and I knew that then. “The first time I realized bad things happen to good people, I was seven.” Outside of my parents and therapist, I’d never admitted that to anyone. “The first time I grasped that I couldn’t do anything but pray for those bad things to go away, I was eight.”
I felt her take a seat beside me, fully aware she was hanging onto my every word. I swallowed hard, never feeling as vulnerable as I did then.
“The first time I understood that prayer wasn’t enough to make those bad things go away, I was nine.” I glanced over at her, needing to look into her eyes.
The concern for me was written clear across her face. She, more than anyone, understood what I was admitting.
“Now the first time I sat in a therapist’s office, telling my doctor I was terrified those bad things were going to take away my best friend, I was ten.”
She jerked back. “Julian?”
I nodded.
“I had no idea.”
“Yeah, nobody does.”
“But he’s okay now, right?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if he’ll ever really be okay. The shit he’s seen and been through is what nightmares are made of, and it doesn’t just go away. It stays with you and becomes a part of you, and if you let it, it’ll consume you.”
“I’m so sorry, Christian. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to see your best friend in pain. Sometimes I think that’s worse, you know? Seeing the ones we love the most hurting and not being able to stop it. No matter how hard you try, how much you cry and fight for them, in the end, all you’re doing is slowly dying right along with them.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah. You can do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
