A Puck Between Us

I got up and left the room, leaving behind Emerson.

I silently hoped and prayed that he would never turn out like Jeff. I hoped he would never leave a girl to look after her whole family. He wouldn’t ever hurt anyone he loved.

I shut the door, confining myself in my own little square. The same pastel blue walls seemed to remind me, of any childhood memory or spark of happiness I had. The wall was still decorated with the holes that were left behind from the nails that nailed up pictures of Jeff and I.

The line of dots I tried so carefully to hide behind my mirror just reminded me of the time line. A time line of pictures, hung there, showing Jeff and I through out the years, starting with diapers, ending with forever.

I turned away, facing the window, with the sun just escaping through the white curtains. My wood floor was cold under my feet, as I heard shoes clicking up to my door.

I didn’t have to guess who it was.

The steady knocking seemed to startle me, not just because half of me didn’t want him to even try, but it was the half of me that it felt foreign to. It was as if I was just expecting him to come in.

Quickly, I ran to my bed and ruffled up my sheets and opened my laptop, looking as if I had just been on it, before running back to the door.

I turned and opened the door, and stared up into his beautiful brown eyes. “Hey” as all he whispered out. I was to close to him; my heart skipped a beat at the familiar smell. I turned around, coldly, walking back to my bed and sitting on the new spot.

“How have you been? I haven’t talked to you in-“ He stopped, knowing it was too far. I knew it too. I glanced at the childhood photo of us that had been turned over, as I marked off the months.

“In one year and 326 days.” I finished; a growing pain seemed to grow in my stomach. He walked close, too, just enough where he was about to sit down. My mind didn’t stop itself from going back to the day we first kissed, in this very same spot.

“I think you should go, Jeff.” I said coldly, as he looked up, stunned, reading my face. It was horrible, I was an open book, as closed as I tried to be, and I knew he knew me to well.

“Addi, I’m sorry. It’s just that.” He began, but stopped once I winced at my childhood nickname.

“Addison.” I corrected.

“Addison.” He repeated, trying it out on his tongue.

“Listen, I really think you should go.” I mumbled, my stomach becoming less and less mad, but my mind hated myself for that. If he left, I could go right back to the way I was feeling.

My eyes wandered away from his, itching toward the turned over picture on my desk. I didn’t want to move it. It was better the way it was.

Before I knew it, a hand came into my vision and scooped up the picture. My hand instantly shot out for it, but he was taller then me to begin with, and was much taller standing, while I was helplessly waiting on my bed.

He examined the parts I knew he would. Our hands that were nearly glued together, for we were inseparable. I had that long dress on, ready to go to our eighth grade formal. All the other couples there were awkward and not experienced with each other, but we weren’t.

We could predict every move we made, every word that would come out of our mouths, every reaction we would have. We were one.

I knew his eyes next moved up to our lips, our first kiss in public. Our first published kiss that was on paper, proof of our love.

I knew his eyes grazed my perfectly rosy cheeks, embarrassed to hear the photo snap from my dad’s camera. I knew his eyes.

I knew where they went.

I looked up helplessly as he turned it over, his eyes full of pain but curious. He seemed to could all the tabs on the back, from the scribble the day he left, to the one I marked just the day before.

He was home now though, no need to mark it. Not any this time.