I'm Leaving

It was his eighteenth birthday. I had taken him out for dinner the night before and after I’d bought him balloons. It’s just what we did. Every year.

He was my best friend, and I was his.

It was around five when I woke up. I heard the front door slam and the start of a car. It rumbled as it started and the gravel of the driveway crunched under the old wheels. Right then I knew he’d left. The first time he did this, I remember the panic coursing through my body. I didn’t know what to do. Was I to go after him? Or should I let him be?

I always went after him on the second day. I would pack my backpack and drive all the way to the beach. Just like I did today.

It takes three hours to get to the beach and usually it takes only five minutes to find him. His dad’s old blue car would be parked behind this huge rock. The Happy Birthday balloon always gave him away. I don’t know why he did it, but the balloon was always there. The wind keeping it aloft. He sat in the trunk, watching the waves. He held his knees to his chest and stared.

“Lucas.” I would say every time. He never moved. He’d just look on. I would keep quiet and climb into the trunk with him. We’d watch the waves together.

“Lucas.” I’d say again. He’d blink, and I’d know I had his full attention.

“Want to go walk in the water?” I’d ask. He’d nod. His nod was always beautiful. It was quick and charming. He would tip his chin down and just barely bring it back up. And that was it. I loved it. I would climb out of the car and Lucas would follow. I knew he hadn’t gotten out of that car in the last day. It was obvious. The way he would limp for a minute and then stretch his pale arms above his head. His body was stiff and tired.

The sun always hit his blonde hair perfectly. He was my angel.

There were these rocks that sat in front of us. They were big and annoying. You either had to climb them and end up slipping, or walk around. Lucas and I always climbed atop. I would crawl on my hands and knees while Lucas just walked. He never fell. His bare feet would steadily hold his ground. And then he’d jump off the rocks and into the sand with a thud. He’d watch me struggle to get across. These times made me wonder if Lucas was my friend. I’d push the thought away and finally reach the ground.

I’d take off my shoes and socks, and then walk to the water. Lucas was ahead of me, always walking farther out into the water. I’d follow slowly. Taking my good time. Touching the blue and green water. Soaking it in. This time, every year, was the only time I ever came to the beach.

When I’d reach Lucas, he wouldn’t look at me. He’d look out at the water that lies ahead. There was always a sailboat a few miles away. Sometimes you had to squint to see it. We always did.

“I’m going to buy a sailboat one day.” Lucas murmured once. I smiled and touched Lucas’ hand that day. When I did that, he flinched and pushed his way farther into the water. He broke my heart.

No matter how hard I tired, Lucas never loved me.