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“He’s not alone. Your teacher’s with him. I’m sure his parents will pick him up soon.”
“Dad, his grandma picks him up. Sometimes she’s late. I’ll tell mom it’s my fault we’re late, and I won’t ask for anything else this week. Not extra dessert, not to stay up late—”
I look down at the jumping bean in front of me and smile. At least he’s a good friend. “We’ll stay with him for a little bit, but if his grandmother isn’t here in ten minutes, we have to go. Your mom is going to kick my don’t say.”
“I won’t say, but I know.” He laughs, running off to his friend. It’s amazing how fast kids make friends. Two weeks into the school year, and he’s already made a best buddy. If only it was that simple for grown-ups.
Nine, not ten. Nine minutes and I’m blown back in time. I see her, and it’s all changed, but she’s the same. Slow, slow, quick, quick quick—the beating in my chest. She was the best thing to ever happen to me. The worst thing I ever experienced, when I lost her. I’m paralyzed with thoughts and emotions, memories I try so hard to forget but are forever with me. Bitter and sweet mixed into one, as I watch her talking to my son and his friend.
Snapping out of my daze, my feet move one in front of the other, taking me closer with each step to a place and a person I once knew so well but who is a stranger to me now. And it’s clear and heartbreaking when I hear, “Mommy, this is my friend, Jackson.”
I approach them with her back turned to me. I place my hand on my son’s shoulders. In a heart-stopping moment, her head turns and her eyes meet mine. She was supposed to be my life; she was my everything, and my feelings have not changed. One look into eyes as dark as mine, with flecks of gold, confirms it. The memories, the tastes, and the sight of her long, black hair choke me with so much—I can’t speak. Her lips part, but no words come. Her eyes well and blink, scanning my face. I have no words. Just regret for the past, love in the present, and the overwhelming need to apologize, to tell her I know I let her down.
“Mom!”
“Dad, hello?”
I look down at my son and realize they’re talking to us. I clear my throat and do my best to focus. “Yeah, son?”
“This is my friend, Jacob, and his mom.”
My eyes drift back over to the little boy standing next to him. Same height, about the same age, a mop of black hair, same as Jackson’s, both dressed in sneakers, jeans, T-shirt, about the same size. Just a little boy. No monster. Just a little boy, the same as Jackson. The only exception—the eyes—those are not the same. Not hers.
Her hands go around him in a protective gesture, pulling him back toward her. My head turns to her. I see a spark of something—I can’t place if it’s anger or something else. Her body is relaxed, but her lips come together in a tight smile. I understand. I smile at her and hold my hand out. “Hi, Lacey.”
She hesitates then takes it. “Hello, Landon.”
Nothing like the first touch, a fusion of sparks. She quickly pulls back. My phone rings, and I reach into my pocket to answer it. “Hello. We’re on our way. We’ll be there soon.” Not breaking eye contact with her, I tell Jackson, “We have to go. Your mom’s waiting for us.” I take one last look at her and then I look at the little boy she’s still holding against her. I smile and hold my hand out to him. “Jacob, it’s nice to meet you. Jackson talks about you all the time. I hear a lot of good things about you. He says you’re the fastest runner in the whole school—next to him, of course.”
A smile lights up his face when he agrees and says, “Jackson and me are tied.”
I ruffle his hair and say, “That’s fair of you. See you around, Jacob. Lacey.” She smiles a genuine smile this time, loosening her hold on her son, just a little.
You know when you’re not looking for something—you’re not expecting it—and it inexplicably drops into your lap? That’s Lacey.
“What do you know oflife, young Lacey?”
“I know stuff,” she says, with more confidence than I believe she has. “I was born, and I’m here. I’m still alive after seventeen years. I must know something.”
“Staying alive for seventeen years with the help of your parents isn’t what I would call life experience and survival of the fittest.”
“Says you.”
“You haven’t experienced much of life, have you? That’s no fault of your own. You’re young, maybe too young for me.”
Her eyes fix on me. “My father died when I was eight. Massive heart attack. Went to school, came back, he was gone. No goodbyes, no ‘I love you.’ Nothing but memories and old photographs. I know what it is to lose someone.” She smiles a sad smile. “See, don’t let my age fool you, Landon. I’ve experienced life. I might not have had the vast extent of life experiences you have, being a whole three years older than me, but I have emotional life experience.”
“My bad. There’s something about you, Lacey.”
“What?”
“Something I wasn’t expecting from a high school senior. When is your birthday again?”
She looks away. “I didn’t say.”
“Your sister did. She said it was in two months.”
“Yeah, about that...”
