For the Rest of Our Lives
Twelve (2003)
The new school year has started, Keegan has moved away, and Ryan is no longer being home schooled- he's joined us back in our growing public school. Sally is blue; the anniversary of her mother's death is fast approaching. It's only been nearly two years. I think about my grandpa, and how he died just last year.
But it's not the same. I was close to him, but he had lived in another state. Sally's mom was... well, Sally's mom. I reach across the bus seat to squeeze Sally's hand. We're on our way back home from our second day of school for the year. Sally slowly lifts her head up, her gaze locking onto our hands. She flips her hand up and grasps mine back before returning her gaze to the ground, watching it move by through the window.
The smile I didn't even know had been plastered on my face drops. I want to make things better for her. I rest my head on her shoulder, and she leans her head on top of mine.
"It's going to get better," I whisper to her. "I don't know how, but it's going to get better."
There is a long pause, silence between us, before she whispers back, "Is it though?"
Any other words I thought I was going to say to her left me then. The rest of the bus ride is silent. Sally pulls away from me when we reach our stop. She insists on walking home alone, and I feel any spirit I had left for the day crushed to bits as I watch her walk away from me.
We were supposed to go to my house and do our homework together. We were going to play on the xbox; it was quickly becoming one of her favourite things to do whenever she was over. It still didn't top watching the stars for us. But that wasn't happening tonight either. I sigh and look at my feet, making my way home by myself.
"What's wrong, dear?" my mom asks as soon as I enter the kitchen. She's stirring something in a pot on a stove with one hand, and holding Nathan up on her hip with her other arm. Nathan is drooling on the ear of a teddy bear he's holding. He smiles at me when he sees me.
"Nothing wrong with me," I tell my mom. "Sally's feeling down. She didn't want to come over." My mom frowns deeply.
"Oh, honey," she says. "Sometimes, people need their space and time to grieve. She'll come back around when she's feeling better."
I nod, hoping she's right. I don't want to stop being friends with Sally.
But it's not the same. I was close to him, but he had lived in another state. Sally's mom was... well, Sally's mom. I reach across the bus seat to squeeze Sally's hand. We're on our way back home from our second day of school for the year. Sally slowly lifts her head up, her gaze locking onto our hands. She flips her hand up and grasps mine back before returning her gaze to the ground, watching it move by through the window.
The smile I didn't even know had been plastered on my face drops. I want to make things better for her. I rest my head on her shoulder, and she leans her head on top of mine.
"It's going to get better," I whisper to her. "I don't know how, but it's going to get better."
There is a long pause, silence between us, before she whispers back, "Is it though?"
Any other words I thought I was going to say to her left me then. The rest of the bus ride is silent. Sally pulls away from me when we reach our stop. She insists on walking home alone, and I feel any spirit I had left for the day crushed to bits as I watch her walk away from me.
We were supposed to go to my house and do our homework together. We were going to play on the xbox; it was quickly becoming one of her favourite things to do whenever she was over. It still didn't top watching the stars for us. But that wasn't happening tonight either. I sigh and look at my feet, making my way home by myself.
"What's wrong, dear?" my mom asks as soon as I enter the kitchen. She's stirring something in a pot on a stove with one hand, and holding Nathan up on her hip with her other arm. Nathan is drooling on the ear of a teddy bear he's holding. He smiles at me when he sees me.
"Nothing wrong with me," I tell my mom. "Sally's feeling down. She didn't want to come over." My mom frowns deeply.
"Oh, honey," she says. "Sometimes, people need their space and time to grieve. She'll come back around when she's feeling better."
I nod, hoping she's right. I don't want to stop being friends with Sally.