Rosaleigh, NY

Rosaleigh is exactly how the same as it was four years ago. It’s a beautiful, quaint town with a population of four thousand people. Father’s still the mayor, and mother lives with him in our white-picket fenced house. I’m not expecting anyone to greet me when I arrive at the airport, but of course mother’s there with Sandy, the owner of Tasty Treats, my favourite (and our only) bakery, his jolly wife Mariah and their twins, those rascals I used to babysit back in the day. They’re about twelve now, smiling up at me in sort of a devilish way. I have not missed them one bit.

“Samara!” Mother opens her arms out for me and I smile, letting myself be engulfed into her tight grasp. “Four years and you haven’t seen me once; I had to come back to Rosaleigh just to see you.” Mother and I have a different relationship to Father and I. Father relies on me to be his support system, his ‘partner-in-crime’, his ‘perfect girl’, so he can brag to others about how amazing and accomplished I am and make it seem as though we are the perfect family. Mother and I, on the other hand, are much closer. She understands the pressures of the mayor’s daughter, as after all, she is the mayor’s wife. She told me once she wanted to leave the family, but she couldn’t bear to leave me with my father, knowing of the burdens and what not. She’s staying to protect me, and although I appreciate it, I also want her to be happy. I’m old enough now; I can take care of myself.

“Sorry, Mother,” I smile sheepishly at her. “It’s been busy with Mark and I. But I’m going to see you in November, remember?” November’s when Mark and I planned the wedding to be. It’s going to be an outdoor, garden wedding. I’m not keen on having a church wedding.

She rolls her eyes playfully but lets me go, muttering something about how I’m too skinny and that I need to put on weight. It’s a bad decision on her part – just as she lets go, I’m engulfed by another pair of arms. Two pairs, to be exact.

“Samara Armstrong, you have not aged in these past four years!” Mariah squeezes my arms while Sandy pats me on the back. “And you haven’t eaten either, I see. Sandy!” She gives her husband a stern look. “Make sure to bake those red velvet cupcakes you know Samara likes so much. It’s been too long since you’ve made them.”

I turn to Sandy in horror. “You stopped making red velvet cupcakes?”

Sandy shrugs. “You and your year level were the only ones that ever bought them. When they left, no one ever ate them anymore. I wasn’t going to keep making cupcakes that never sold.”

This breaks my heart to hear, but I’m glad he’s making them again. Hmmm, maybe there is something positive about this visit, after all. Sandy’s red velvet cupcakes are the best things I have ever eaten. Anyone can win me over with Sandy’s cupcakes.

“You know, the town has missed you,” Mariah loops an arm though mine as Mother carries my handbag and Sandy my suitcase. “Principal Montin’s kids need babysitting for tomorrow night, Sandy and I want you to sample some of these new cupcakes we’ve been experimenting with, oh and we have to stop by the auto-shop on the way home.”

“The auto-shop?” I ask, confused. “What’s at the auto-shop?”

“Mariah,” My mother chides Mariah. “Samara can go to the auto-shop anytime. Let’s not burden her, she’s only here for a week.”

I shoot a grateful look to Mother, but the curiosity eats at me. What’s at the auto-shop? Better yet, who is at the auto-shop?

“Let’s go to the auto-shop,” I announce. Mother sends me a warning look but I ignore it. “I know you’re hiding something from me, so I might as well find out now.”

“Your choice,” Mother replies with a hint of amusement in her voice. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

---

There’s this auto-shop ten minutes from home. Someone I used to know worked there, and we used to walk together after school so he could work on cars and we’d talk about stupid things.

“I’m going to go in, by myself,” I emphasise on the alone bit as we pull up to the local auto-shop. “I’ll only be a sec.”

I go into the reception area, but it’s strangely vacant. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I head towards the back where the cars are worked on. A loud pop song plays in the background, and I find myself singing along, trying to work out who or what it is that I’m supposed to be looking for.

“We are the ones, the ones you left behind, don’t tell us how to live our life.” The song, well, the lyrics at least are strangely relatable, and since there is no one that I can see around, I wiggle my butt and giggle to myself, thinking how silly I must look.

“Samara Armstrong,” I hear a voice drawl behind me and I freeze, recognising the voice instantly. Turning around slowly on the spot, the person and the memories tied along with him come rushing back, poisoning my mind with the good, the bad and the ones that broke my heart. “It’s been too long.”

“Four years,” my voice is surprisingly strong even though I feel like I’m going to crack inside. He looks better than he did four years ago. He’s a bit taller now, probably 6’2’’ or so. The colour of his hair has darkened considerably, from a light blonde to a darker shade, making his green eyes sparkle more than usual. The dimples are still the same though, more pronounced perhaps – and I curse myself inwardly for noticing such traits in him like this. I shouldn’t be, I can’t be, but he did used to be my best friend, after all. “Hi, Ryan.”

“What, no hug then?” Ryan opens his arms out for me and although he looks a bit dirty in an old t-shirt and jeans, I hesitantly wrap my arms around him, closing my eyes and remembering all the hugs he used to give me after feeling the weight of life sink down on me. Whenever I was down, Ryan was there to help me, no matter what.

“I missed you,” he says huskily. I can feel his nose resting on my bare shoulder, his arms have built up a lot more since high school, I notice. “I missed my best friend.”

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes for some reason but I blink them away, not letting Ryan see my tears or anything else, for that matter.

“Yeah,” I grin at him. “Damn straight, you missed me.”

He chuckles and a warm feeling spreads over me. “How are you?” I ask, and before I can stop myself, the words flow out of my mouth. “How’s Jessica?”

He pauses, and I’m wondering whether Jessica is even in his life anymore. It’s been so long, surely they can’t still be together, can they?

“We’re good,” he says finally. “Four years and still going strong.”

I try not to show it, but right about now, my heart breaks into a million tiny pieces.