Let Go

I sat in Kris’s driveway for about five minutes before I finally pulled the door of my black BMW open.

There were a million thoughts going through my head, a million jumbled memories that my mind felt the need to dig up from it’s dusty corners. I remembered our movie nights back when we were kids, starting from the very first one when we were both twelve years old. I could speak French fairly well now thanks to daily, two hour lessons at home and French class in school with my translator, Nick. I had hoped that with my grasp on the language, I would have more friends but that had never been the case. Kris was the only one who talked to me, the only one who invited me to birthday parties and the only person who ever made an attempt to show me some kindness.

My hand lingered on the door to my car, my mind rolling with the memories of the past.

---

I sat uncomfortably on his living room sofa, smoothing out the fabric in my dress or adjusting my tights several times as I fidgeted on the cushions. His mother fluttered on through with a small smile on her face and grabbed a VHS from the tall oak cabinet that housed the television set. Kris wandered over with a bowl of popcorn and two sodas, promptly collapsing onto the couch with the snacks and drinks. The screen turned dark and the familiar African beats floated through the living room, the image of a savannah fading through as the rhythm pounded on.

“I love this movie!” I exclaimed suddenly in French, a little embarrassed afterwards with my small outburst. Kris’s smile was wide and he passed me the bowl of popcorn. We may have been a little old for the film, being almost in the seventh grade, but I didn’t care. A wave of nostalgia hit me and I felt myself happily easing into the atmosphere.

Kris’s mother went into the kitchen to prepare dinner while we watched as Simba was exalted into the air by Rafiki. I chewed thoughtfully as the movie continued, feeling myself continuously unwind as it progressed.

A key turned in the door and we both turned our heads suddenly to watch as Kris’s father walked in. He waved us both a hello and I watched as he came and greeted Kris’s mother kindly. I sunk a little, trying to remember the last time I saw both my parents together. Things had been getting turbulent at home, the bitterness in the air borderline toxic. That’s why I had accepted his invitation to stay over for dinner quickly. I wasn’t going to left alone with a copy of Mémoires d'Hadrien (my favorite novel of the time) and a box of fried rice and kung pao chicken.
Kristopher was always receptive and observant of other people’s feelings, and I could tell by the way he looked at me with his soft brown eyes that he knew what I was feeling—that I wanted what he had, that I was unhappy with my situation at home.

I exhaled and turned to look at him for a moment before averting my gaze uncomfortably, focusing my attention to the screen. But Kris’s mom called from the kitchen for dinner and we both jumped up to go to the dining room.

When Lyudmilla came that evening to pick me up, I left with the air of invincibility. I was thoroughly satisfied and happy, feeling full from the sort of joy that comes with having friends and a family. Kris’s family wasn’t my own, but there was a certain way that he had managed to share them with me—if only for the night.

---
My finger pressed the doorbell gingerly, sinking into the cool plastic slowly, as if though it was acting against it’s will. The door opened not even two seconds later and I was greeted by those familiar brown eyes and quiet smile.

“Hey.” He said and I couldn’t help but grin. It felt like that night again, when we were twelve years old. My life was still a jumbled tangle of chaos and confusion and he felt like the safe, static entity in the wild mess. He always felt like my port in the storm.

“Hey.” I replied casually as he opened the door wider to let me in. My heel of my boot hit the beige stone in his hallway and echoed as I followed him to the kitchen. On the black granite laid the recognizable brown bags full of takeout and a pair of diet coke cans.

“Sesame noodles, fried rice and an egg roll?” He asked with a smile on his face and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s creepy that you remember this.” I teased, taking a seat on a barstool as he unpacked the bags.

He just shook his head. “I’d like to think it’s impressive.” He replied, handing my fortune cookie. “Guess what I’m having?” he asked, raising his eyebrows once.

“Lo Mein, dim sum and a spring roll. “ I rattled off casually, taking the cookie out of the plastic. “But you’re boring and predictable. I’m wild and spontaneous.” I joked and he scoffed, taking his own cookie.

“Ready?” he asked me with a grin and I nodded eagerly. We had a tradition of opening the cookies first, then eating our food.

I snapped the cookie open and pulled out the tiny slip of paper, reading the words carefully.

“For the sake of your future, don’t ignore your past.” I read mine and I could feel my face heat up. This had to be the most ironic fortune cookie I’ve ever gotten. I bit into it forcefully, not looking up at Kris. He didn’t read his fortune; he just took his food into the living room and set it down on the endtable near the couch. I followed his lead and took my dinner there too, watching him as he thumbed through his DVD’s. He pulled out an orange case and turned it over so that I could see. In an instant, my face split into a bright smile.

“Lion King.” He said with a wild grin and I laughed.

“You never told me your fortune.” I reminded him and he dug the piece of paper from his pocket, his dark eyes going from the paper to me.

“The one you love is closer than you think.”