Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 

~Chapter 2~

 

Lucas.

 

 

August

 

The worst part of life is saying goodbye. If you’re tied at the hip with someone, used to seeing them every day, depending on them when there’s nobody else, how will you get by without them? I’ve heard the saying “life isn’t fair”, but it seems I never took it seriously before. Now I realize what it means. It means that happy times won’t last. They’re good while you have them, which is why you have to make the most of them. But once they’re gone, all you have are the memories, and memories never fade. This is why I know I’ll have a hard time trying to forget about April.

        The day I found out she was moving; I was cold as ice all over and empty as a drunkard’s purse. I didn’t know what to do, because there was simply nothing to do. Her father had died. She had a brother in New York. I should’ve seen it coming, but maybe I was too reluctant to put the pieces together.

        I didn’t know what I would do without her. April was different from most girls; she didn’t mind hanging out with a boy. She didn’t spend her time trying out different shades of lip gloss or seeing which makeup suited her complexion, or striving to be popular like all the other girls.

        Part of the explanation, I guessed, was because she was already pretty. At least I thought so. She had soft curly black hair and dark pretty eyes framed by black lashes and a face that didn’t need to be brought out by any ridiculous powder. She wasn’t as girly as others either. Instead of staying home, she would come with me when I would want to check out the forest behind my house. She would be the one to suggest we climb a tree, and if I suggested it, she wouldn’t moan and complain about how dirty she would get. I couldn’t find the right word to describe her, because maybe there just wasn’t a word. All I could think of was different. And in this case, different was a good thing.

        I couldn’t remember a time I wasn’t best friends with April. Maybe because I was too young to recall much. But I remember that promise she had made me. I remember her telling me—giving me her word—that0 we’d always stick by each other.

        I knew she didn’t have the power to stop this, but she could try. And if it was really so impossible, she should’ve never made that promise to me in the first place. For every promise, there is a price to pay.

        The day she was leaving, I knew I couldn’t face her. My last goodbye had been said the night before. If saying goodbye was hard enough the first time, the second time would be exhausting. And I was a coward, so I couldn’t face it. I’d already planned this. I knew it would hurt her. I knew what she would think: that I didn’t care about her enough to come and say goodbye. But I couldn’t stand the thought of watching her drive away in that car, getting farther and farther away....

        So I skipped. I knew Mom wouldn’t go looking for me, guessing I was probably too upset. But apparently Dad thought otherwise.

 

*   *   *

I had chosen the lake at the end of the block to run away to, because it seemed to be the most secluded place I could think of at the moment. There were only a few people wandering around, some with dogs, others with toddlers, but all took no notice of me as I sat on the tire swing on my favorite oak tree, the tree that April and I used to come and sit at every day after church.

        I stared out at the setting sun, trying to focus on the beauty of the nightfall, but my mind was elsewhere. Sure, the colors in the sky were eye-catching—the orange rays of the sun tinted nearby clouds a majestic pink and red—and I usually enjoyed a good sunset, but not without my best friend sitting beside me.

        I didn’t know how long I sat there on the swing, watching birds swoop over the water and catch squirming fish in their beaks, observing little kids running around playing with kites or toy boats in the lake, but eventually unconsciousness tackled my mind. I struggled to stay awake, afraid of the nightmares that would overwhelm me when I was asleep.

        So I watched the sun sink lower and lower into the water, until crunching footsteps from behind interrupted my daydreaming.

        I didn’t turn, but I was wary. I kept my eyes glued to the edge of the water, completely ignorant.

        “Hey, Buddy,” I heard Dad murmur beside me. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he sat down beside me on the ground. My right hand clenched into a tight fist around the rope of the tire swing.

        I didn’t respond, not caring if I offended him or not. Dad wasn’t one to care much about anything, especially not me. Last time he’d bonded with me was when he’d changed my diapers. And lately, the fights he’d been having with Mom had me thinking he might not be around much longer.

        “April’s gone.”

        I didn’t react in any way to those words, though my insides burst into flames.

        “She was disappointed you didn’t come to say goodbye.”

        I guessed Mom had told him to look for me; he wouldn’t have come on his own. Again I stayed silent, ignoring the opportunity he provided for me to speak.

        “You can’t stay upset forever, son. You should have said goodbye while you had the chance.”

        Nearby, a little girl squealed as her brother splashed water at her. I watched them, hoping the scene would distract me from this conversation....

        “You’ll forget about her soon enough—”

        “Alright, I get it!” I barked, unable to take anymore. I jumped off the tire and stood facing the lake, stomach clenched into a fist, jaw set.

        I heard Dad sigh behind me. “It’s not her fault she’s moving, Lucas,” he said softly. If he was trying to be cheering, it wasn’t working. I’d prefer to stay alone than have him list all the reasons I should forget about her and move on.

        “Leave me alone,” I growled, walking forward until my feet were at the edge of the water. I inhaled deeply, trying not to lose my temper.

        “What happened, Luke?” I didn’t hear him approach, so I flinched from his hand when it settled on my shoulder.

        I shrugged out from underneath his touch, struggling to keep control over myself. I focused on breathing in and out.

        “We used to be best friends. Now you won’t even look at me.” He waited for me to say something, and continued when I didn’t. “I know I’ve been busy with work,” he murmured.

        I stifled a snort. Work. That’s what he called staying till late at night and then coming home with a falter in his step and his tie undone. The minutes ticked by, and I felt the air lighten when he surrendered.

        “Let’s go home, Lucas.”

        And that was what annoyed me most of all. He would just give up. I knew I wanted him to leave, but a small, trivial part of me wished he cared enough to try and cheer me up even when I didn’t want him to. That part was suddenly buried under the incompetent rage that overshadowed it.

        I didn’t move when he rose, but felt him waiting for me. I knew this memory of today would be etched in my mind forever, and whenever I thought of it I’d feel a physical pain. Dad just didn’t want to see me whine anymore. He wanted me to shut up and accept life. When had I ever thought of him as my hero? What kind of hero didn’t lend a hand when one needed it, or gave up when things got tough? In the midst of trying to figure out what I ever saw in my father, I thought of something he told me once, when I was little.

        Sometimes you have to let go of someone to see if there’s anything there to hold on to.

        Still shaking with fury, I stood and followed my father to the car.