Dance With Me In the Pouring Rain

My hands buried in my pockets, I trudged past the familiar houses until I reached one more familiar than the rest. Pausing in front of it, I headed down the path and pressed the doorbell. While I waited for someone to answer, I glanced around at my surroundings.

I’d never really noticed the garden before. It was clean, green and dotted with all manner of flowers and shrubs I couldn’t hope to name. It was in stark contrast to my own, overgrown with weeds and bushes. Dad used to do a bit of gardening, pulling up weeds and planting stuff, but that was before Joe. That was before Mum.

The door was flung open and I heard a muffled ‘hi’ behind me. I turned slowly, enveloping Tory in a hug without a word.

“I like your garden,” I remarked after a few seconds of silence. “It’s pretty.”

She pulled away and smiled wryly. “It’s my mum’s pride and joy, that. Her plants are her babies.”

I smiled back. “So where do you want to go today?”

She bit her lip as she thought for a second, weighing up the options in her mind.

“The park,” she said eventually. I never thought she’d say anything else.

I nodded and took her hand, weaving her fingers into mine. It had been nearly a week since she dropped the bombshell on me and she’d split that time between me and her friends. Every other day, we’d go out somewhere different. The cinema, town, the ice rink, it didn’t matter. We hadn’t mentioned it once, though. It was easier just to not talk about it.

It took us a matter of minutes to walk to the park. We’d been here so often I could trace the steps by memory, eyes shut and hands tied behind my back. We didn’t make a spoken agreement to head for the bench we’d long since claimed as our own but somehow we found ourselves there, huddling against each other. For warmth or for comfort, I didn’t know.

Suddenly, Tory chuckled, nudging my shoulder gently with her head. “This was where we first met, remember? You barrelled into me like a cannonball and knocked my ice cream clean out of my hands.”

I grinned. “I just wanted to get away, but you insisted on getting us both an ice cream.”

“You were so shy,” she giggles. “Like a little puppy. It was so cute.”

“I resent that!” I protested. “I was not shy.”

“You so were,” she insisted. “Or maybe you were just doing that boundaries thing.”

“What boundaries thing?”

“You know, where you stick an electric fence around yourself and woe betide anyone who gets near,” she replied offhandedly.

I frowned. “I don’t do that. Do I?”

“You kind of do. Just a little. Didn’t take you long to warm up to me, though,” she commented.

“Yeah, and I continue to question my judgement to this day,” I muttered.

She laughed, resting her head on my shoulder. “We’ve had some good times though, haven’t we?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We certainly have.”

There was a pause. I stroked her hair softly, remembering all the times we’d sat like this before. We’d done so much. I’d known her only three months, but we’d done so much in that short time. It felt like longer. A lot longer.

“I love you,” she said suddenly. “I know I haven’t said it before, but I do.”

“I know,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I love you too.”

“Do you think we’ll last, Fletch?” she asked, holding me tight.

“Yeah, ‘course. We’ll be like those old couples you see in nursing homes, together to the bitter end,” I joked.

She nudged me. “I’m serious.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you want my honest answer or the one that’ll make you happy?”

“Both,” she said in a small voice.

“I wish I could say yes, but the truth is I don’t know. I love you now, that’s for sure. But people change. Circumstances change.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered, burying her head in my chest. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Same here,” I said softly.

“I don’t want you to forget about me,” she murmured. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Hey, don’t go all mushy on me. It’ll be okay, it will,” I assured her.

She lifted her head to look at me, her eyes brimming with doubt. “Really, though? You said it yourself; you don’t know what’s going to happen.”

I hugged her closer to me, resting my chin on top of her head. “It will,” I promised. “We’ll make sure of it.”

She clung to me as if she’d never let go, but I could feel her spinning away from me with every day that passed. There was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off, and we both knew it.

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The day I was dreading didn’t take as long as I’d hoped it would to arrive. It was the last Thursday of the holidays before we were supposed to return to school. I was starting to hope that maybe there’d been a change of plan, and Tory wasn’t moving, but just like every other hope I’ve ever had, it was torn down before it had a chance to bloom.

It was late at night, probably around eleven or so. I was in my room, lying on my bed and listening to music. I hadn’t heard the doorbell go, but Dad popped his head round my door and told me that Tory was here.

I sat up quickly. The look on his face told me all I needed to know. This wasn’t a casual visit. Not at eleven o'clock at night. This was the day.

Tory shuffled in, her eyes glued to the floor, her arms glued across her stomach. Her hair was flopping down over her face so I couldn’t see her expression, but I didn’t need to. She sank into my bed next to me and without a word, I draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into me.

“When?” I asked softly.

She didn’t have to ask what I meant. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “We’re moving tomorrow.”

My mouth dropped open. “What?” I croaked.

“They found a place. They’ve already bought it. They’ve even started moving our stuff there.” She broke off to grasp her face in her hands. “We’re moving. We’re actually moving. Oh God.”

I held her tighter. I didn’t know what to say; I had no words.

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “I came straight here. I can’t stay there. I can’t.” She looked up at me, her eyes filled with hope. “I could live with you, couldn’t I? I could, right?”

“I’m sorry Tory,” I said, hating myself for having to disappoint her. “But you can’t just abandon your family. You need them, and they need you.”

“You’re right. Oh, why do you have to be right?” she said bitterly. She blinked hard, but she couldn’t hide the tears pooling in her eyes.

“Tory,” I murmured, “it’ll be okay.”

She wrenched out of my grip and glared at me. “How can you say that? It’s not going to be okay! I’m moving a million miles away to God knows where and you think it’ll be okay?”

“But it will, I promise,” I said firmly. “Remember, I promised.”

“What about us, though?” she whispered. “How will we manage?”

“Long distance relationship,” I replied quickly. “People do it all the time.”

“But they never work out!” she cried, raking her hands through her hair.

“We’ll make it work out,” I promised. “I’ll call you every day.”

“You won’t.”

“Every week, then. And we’ll MSN and email and text and meet up as often as we can and it’ll work, I promise we’ll make it work,” I said, my desperation growing with every word. “Tory, look at me.” She didn’t. “Tory, please.”

I cupped her chin with my hands and tilted her face towards me. Reluctantly, she glanced up, and our eyes locked.

“Tory, I love you,” I whispered. “And I will do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

She bit her lip to hold back the tears. “But what if you can’t?”

“I will. I will.”

She threw her arms around me and buried her head in my chest. I could hear her sobbing softly into my shirt, could feel the wetness slowly spreading. I stroked her hair, whispered in her ear, promised her it would be alright.
After an age, she tugged out of my grip and wiped away the streaks of tears on her face. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, and then reached into the bag I hadn’t noticed she was holding.

“Here,” she said tonelessly, handing it to me. “I almost forgot about it. It’s your birthday present.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything-” I said hastily.

“Fletch, shut up,” she interrupted. “Of course I did. And anyway, I wanted to.”

I tipped out the contents: a neatly-wrapped box and a card, my name scrawled across the front in Tory’s definitive handwriting.

“I figured since I’m not here for your actual birthday, I ought to give it to you now,” she explained. “Open it now. I want to see your face.”

“Is it that bad?” I joked.

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s up to you to decide. Open the card first.”

Obediently, I slit the envelope open with my fingernail and pulled the card out in one smooth flourish. She turned away as I flipped it open and started to read.

Dear Fletch,

Happy early 16th birthday. I hope it’s a good one when you have it. I’ll have to remember to call you, but you know what my memory is like.

I know you didn’t want anything but I wanted to get you something you could remember me by. I honestly hope you like it. But if you think it’s soppy or sad or whatever, I don’t blame you. It is a bit, kind of.

You deserve it, though. I don’t think you know what you mean to me. You’re my best friend and my boyfriend and I love you more than anything in the world. Well. Maybe not more than my mum. Or Ally. But you know what I mean.

We’ve had some bad times, but we’ve had far more good ones. I hope they’re the ones you remember when you look back on us and what we were. Are. I don’t know. But things are changing fast and I just want you to know that I care about you and I always will. I know I can’t expect the same from you, but it’s enough to know that you love me now.

You’re probably cringing from the soppiness right now so I’ll keep this short. You aren’t the funniest or the smartest or the kindest or even the fittest guy I’ve ever known but you’re the one I’ll always remember because of who you are. You’re not afraid to be who you are and I admire you for that. You’re not perfect, but you’re pretty damn close.

So have a great birthday. And have a fantastic life. I hope I’ve affected it somehow, even if only in a small way. And remember, you can be anything you want to be, you just have to believe in yourself.

Love always, Tory.

P.S. Please get a haircut. It’s getting ridiculously long.

Clearing my throat, I shut the card. “Do you really think I should get it cut?” I remarked casually.

She didn’t turn. “Yes. You look like a girl.”

I scooted over to her and hugged her around the waist. “Thanks. Really. For the card, I mean.”

She turned to face me then, incredulity painted over her face. “You mean you haven’t opened the present yet? Could you please get a move on?”

Chuckling, I grabbed the box and tore off the wrapping. Slowly, I slid out what was inside and placed it on my knees. My eyes widened as I took it in, shocked.

“Tory, this is...” I gestured for a word sufficient to describe what I was feeling. “Wow.”

She giggled. “That good, eh?”

It was a scrapbook. On the front, in big, green letters, it said ‘Fletch’s Life in Pictures: 1993-2009’. There was a recent picture of me on the front, taken at school for the annual photo. I opened to the first page, which was only a short, printed note.

Fletcher Sutherland, this is your life. From bawling baby to stroppy teenage boy, your life is captured in these pages. I stole a bunch of pictures from your family photo albums and off your friends, as well as the ones I had. There’s space for more, for the memories you will make after I’m gone. I hope you remember all the good times we had, and all the good times you had without me. It seems you had an awful lot of them.

Tory x

Smiling, I started flicking through. There were pictures of me as a baby, pictures of me with me and Joe, pictures of the whole family. There were pictures of me and Kyle from when we were in primary school.

“You were so cute as a child,” Tory commented, peering over my shoulder. “What happened?”

I nudged her gently, but I knew she was only taking the mick. The pictures changed quickly. There were no more family pictures, and Hassan and Jordan had joined me and Kyle. There were photos from parties and school events, and I secretly marvelled at the collection Tory had amassed. She must have asked literally everyone I knew for pictures.

After a few pages, Tory appeared. I couldn’t help but notice there were nearly as many pictures of Tory and me as there were me and everyone else. It made me chuckle. There were other things as well as pictures: photocopies of certificates, receipts, invitations and other assorted items from things that had happened to me in the past sixteen years.

But then the pictures starting growing thin and after a few pages, stopped altogether. I shut the scrapbook, speechless.

“So,” Tory said nervously, “what do you think?”

“I think,” I said slowly, “that this is the best present anyone’s ever gotten me.” I kissed her softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” I murmured into her mouth.

“I’m glad you like it,” she breathed.

I hugged her, pressing her bony body to mine. “If there was any ever doubt before, I certainly won’t be able to forget you after this.”

“Fletch,” she whispered, pulling away momentarily, “do you think I could stay the night? I want to spend my last night with you.”

I smiled. “How could I say no?”

She grinned back. “Will your dad be okay with it?”

“Yeah,” I bluffed.

She gave me a look.

“On second thoughts, maybe I ought to ask him,” I muttered, jumping to my feet.

She was laughing at me as I ducked out of the room and headed downstairs to where my dad was watching TV.

“Dad, is it okay if Tory stays over?” I asked, sticking my head round the door.

His eyebrows rose suggestively. “I think it’s her parents you should be asking.”

“Dad,” I muttered, embarrassed. “It’s not like that. It’s just she’s moving tomorrow and we want to spend our last day together with each other. But not like that,” I said emphatically.

“If her parents are okay with it, then yeah, it’s fine,” he informed me. “Just check first, yeah?”

“Will do. Cheers, Dad.”

“No problem,” he smirked. “Just be safe, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” I replied, cringing.

I headed back to my room where Tory was waiting expectantly.

“He says it’s okay if your mum and dad say it’s okay,” I told her.

“I don’t know about my dad, but Mum says it’s fine,” she replied. “She trusts me. And besides, it’s not like we’ll be doing anything, is it?”

“’Course not,” I muttered, shoving my hands in my pockets. “You can have my bed; I’ll sleep on the floor.”

She grinned devilishly. “Oh, Fletch, I think we’re both mature enough to be able to sleep in the same bed without there being a problem. Don’t you?”

My cheeks turned red. “Sure,” I lied. “That’ll be fine, I guess.”

“I couldn’t borrow one of your t-shirts or something to sleep in, could I?” she asked innocently.

“Yeah, I’ll just find you something.”

Rummaging in a drawer, I pulled out an old t-shirt of mine and tossed it to her. I turned away as she took off her top and pulled it over her head, and only turned back when she said it was okay, despite the little voice at the back of my head that begged me to peek. I stripped to my boxers and climbed into bed next to her, holding her close as she snuggled into me.

“Can we forget about tomorrow?” she whispered, her voice husky. “I just want to enjoy what’s left of today while we can.”

I nodded wordlessly, content to do whatever it took to make her happy. She leant forward the few centimetres or so between us and kissed me with those soft lips of hers. Everything else melted away as we lay there, content in each others’ arms.