For the Rest of Our Lives
Twenty Six (2009)
Today is the day I put pen to paper for the first time. It's probably one of the most intense experiences I'll ever have: letting these characters I've invented run wild with my words. What I write is super simple, not really any good, but the rush is so nice that I don't really care. I call Sally over so she can read it as soon as possible. And she is very eager to take a peek at my work.
We sit on my bed as she leafs through my notebook. Her green eyes are bright and wide, dancing over each page, absorbing each word written there carefully. The way she reads this simple work gives me the confidence boost I didn't know I needed. I feel myself swell with pride.
And then there are tears silently trickling down her cheeks. She brings her fist up to her mouth, biting her knuckles as she reads the last few paragraphs. My chest tightens.
"What the hell," she says when she's finally done. She sets the notebook down and looks up at me. I bite my lip, watching her carefully.
"Was it bad?" I ask. She wipes the tears from her face and throws her arms around me.
"No, it was so good," she says. "Sad, but in a good way. That was- I didn't even know you could write like that."
"Well, uh, I really only just started," I say. I rub her back slowly, enjoying her leaning into me. "I didn't think it was any good, really."
"Well, it is really good," she assures me, with emphasis on the word 'is'. "You should add more to this. Keep writing. You're really good at it."
She lifts her head up, looking up at me. My heartbeat speeds up, almost uncomfortably behind my rib cage. I still haven't told her. So I swallow my words, clear my throat, and pull my gaze from hers.
"Thank you," I say quietly. I try to control the wild beat of my heart, but it's unfortunately a muscle we do not control. "I will."
"Luna!" my mom calls then. Sally makes no move to pull away from me, but for some reason I have the weird thought to pull away from her as if we were doing something wrong. "Would you and Sally like some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?"
Sally and I exchange a look and a smile. We haven't had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in ages. Sally sits up and leans forward, closer to the door.
"Yes, thank you!" she calls through the open doorway.
"Alright," my mom calls back to us. I can hear the smile in her voice. I wonder if she knows how I feel about Sally, and feel myself grow warm.
We sit on my bed as she leafs through my notebook. Her green eyes are bright and wide, dancing over each page, absorbing each word written there carefully. The way she reads this simple work gives me the confidence boost I didn't know I needed. I feel myself swell with pride.
And then there are tears silently trickling down her cheeks. She brings her fist up to her mouth, biting her knuckles as she reads the last few paragraphs. My chest tightens.
"What the hell," she says when she's finally done. She sets the notebook down and looks up at me. I bite my lip, watching her carefully.
"Was it bad?" I ask. She wipes the tears from her face and throws her arms around me.
"No, it was so good," she says. "Sad, but in a good way. That was- I didn't even know you could write like that."
"Well, uh, I really only just started," I say. I rub her back slowly, enjoying her leaning into me. "I didn't think it was any good, really."
"Well, it is really good," she assures me, with emphasis on the word 'is'. "You should add more to this. Keep writing. You're really good at it."
She lifts her head up, looking up at me. My heartbeat speeds up, almost uncomfortably behind my rib cage. I still haven't told her. So I swallow my words, clear my throat, and pull my gaze from hers.
"Thank you," I say quietly. I try to control the wild beat of my heart, but it's unfortunately a muscle we do not control. "I will."
"Luna!" my mom calls then. Sally makes no move to pull away from me, but for some reason I have the weird thought to pull away from her as if we were doing something wrong. "Would you and Sally like some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?"
Sally and I exchange a look and a smile. We haven't had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in ages. Sally sits up and leans forward, closer to the door.
"Yes, thank you!" she calls through the open doorway.
"Alright," my mom calls back to us. I can hear the smile in her voice. I wonder if she knows how I feel about Sally, and feel myself grow warm.