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I absentmindedly nod as I make my way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, my mind still mulling over her words, unableto let them go as I go through the motions of taking off my clothes and getting into a shower.
Like the Moon and the Earth, always circling around each other.
She was wrong, though.
Rebecca wasn’t the Moon; she was the Sun, and I was the one circling around her this whole time, needing her warmth and her light.
Her love.
I needed her love like I needed air to breathe.
“Fuck.” I run my hand over my face. “I’m totally screwed.”
It takes me ten minutes to finish with the shower and get ready. I was anxious to get to her. You’d think I hadn’t seen her in ages when it’s only been a few hours.
A few fucking hours that seemed more like an eternity.
How did I survive without her for the past three years?
Movement from the living room catches my attention. Dad is stirring awake from his nap, his eyes darting to me.
Instinctually, I brace for some kind of reproach as he takes me in, but it doesn’t come. “You going out?”
“I… yeah.”
Dad nods just as Mom appears in the doorway, a basket in hand. “There you are! Here, I prepared this for you.”
I peek inside the basket noticing way more stuff than the burritos I asked for.
“You didn’t have to do all of that.”
“Oh, please. I even packed some of those cookies Rebecca loves.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Mom pats me on the shoulder. “You two have fun.”
Nodding, I glance toward my dad, who surprisingly keeps quiet. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Turning around, I get out of the house and jump inside mySUV. The drive to Rebecca’s property and the treehouse is short, and thankfully, she’s not here yet. Grabbing the basket Mom prepared, I slide out of the car and climb inside the treehouse, taking in the space around me.
Nothing much has changed, but the place looked clean even now. Somebody has been using it. Lace curtains hang above the window, and there is a wooden box situated on the other side just underneath it. A small shelf is filled with books and little trinkets Rebecca’s gathered through the years, which she lined up next to a few of those ugly-ass stuffed animals.
I’m just pulling out the blanket Rebecca keeps in a wooden box when my phone rings.
I take it out of my pocket and find Big J written on the screen. Answering the call, I put it on speaker.
“Hey, what’s up, Big J?”
“Yo, asshole, where the fuck are you?” Big J asks, barely waiting for me to finish. The guy wasn’t one for pleasantries, not off the field and certainly not on the field.
James “Big J” Callahan is one of my teammates on the Austin Lonestars. The dude is enormous. We’re talking six-six, three hundred pounds of a linebacker that you pray doesn’t crash into you if you don’t want him to rearrange every single bone in your body.
“I’m home. Where should I be?”
I move the basket closer and start pulling out the containers with food, and there is even a bottle of red.
“The fuck you are. I tried stopping by your house earlier this week, but you weren’t home.”
