I know that he was there. I was so close. There were just too many others there. Our last conversation still pains me.
It was mid-June during my last year at high school. That was a few weeks ago. It was the last day of school for seniors and my friends and me had all taken our exams. I was as giddy as I could be. My friends surprised me with designer heels. All four of them had chipped in. They are overenthusiastic Brenda, loud Breanna, overambitious Grant, and hilarious Chandler.
There was someone missing. I didn’t know what he was to me. His name is Dean. I had gifted him an leather jacket when we were in the school parking lot. I had been saving most of my Christmas money for it, and found one in an eBay auction. He dropped me off at my house. I waited for him to give me something.
He turned to me after he put his burgundy truck in park in my driveway. “You gave up on us.” He accused.
“You don’t even allow an us.” I shot back.
“How can you accuse me of shutting you out when I never let you in?" I sucked back tears. "You broke in and broke my heart!”
He huffed, staring down at his gas pedal. “What are we: friends with benefits?”
“Do I even have to answer that?”
He undid his seat-belt. “Do I even have to answer that?”
I reached for him.
He scooted away and pushed me off of him. “This isn’t happening.”
Me: “Why are you behaving like this?”
Dean: “We aren’t going to see each other anymore, so what good is this?”
Me: “We don’t have to stop.”
Dean: “We already have.”
Me: “Just don’t.”
Dean: “This was bound to happen.”
Me: “Don’t say that!”
Dean crosses his arms. “Our split started long ago.”
I turn my body towards him: “When did it?”
Dean: “It was when you pushed me away and took another in my stead.”
Me: “I didn’t know that you felt that way.”
Dean: “How could you not?”
Me: “You never told me before today.”
Dean: “I shouldn’t have had to.”
Me: “That’s not fair to me!”
Dean: “It was out there for everyone to see.”
Me: “I didn’t see it.”
Dean: “How could you not?”
Red in the face, I stared at the glove compartment to center myself. “You’re making this up!”
He looked out the rear-view mirror. “Ask anyone.”
Me: “How can I apologize when I don’t have anything to be sorry for?”
“Why can’t you listen to me?” He gripped the steering wheel. “I mean really do it for once!”
I shook my head. “I disagree.”
He opened my door and gestured for me to get out.
I faced him, feel utterly defeated. “I guess that I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
He looked away. “I guess so too.”
I should have kissed him right then. He was mine. I was so clueless. Instead, I hopped out of his truck.
He slammed my door, got back in his truck, slammed his door, and then he took-off.
I cannot stomach this. There has to be more to us than that. I’m emptied-out and empty-handed. I want more out of us. I know that we can do better.
Every year he comes to his church’s revival. His parents used to make him. He used to hate it. He used to say that his parents wanted him to be like a pony: strong, loyal, and passionate. He was all three. He didn’t understand any of the sermons.
He had gotten used to it in middle school. That’s when he had his awakening. After that, you couldn’t keep him out of church. He said that God had told him to believe and he won’t be deceived. I started to laugh, but he was dead serious. I still couldn’t take him seriously. That was when we started messing around. I wouldn’t have done that with anyone else at the time. He called me his girl, but we never were official. After church, he used to ride his bike to my house. He used to have a good time.
That’s why I went there: for him. He claimed that he wanted to be a pastor. He used to read me his sermons. I took everything in me not to rolls my eyes, because I don’t believe in the whole God ordeal. It wasn’t him; it is organized religion that enrages me. My parents gave-up on taking me to church when I was old enough to stay home.
He said that he was going to the revival and then take off to Kenya for a year on missionary work. I guess that’s why he cut off all his connections with me: to purge himself of his sins. That was why I had to find him today. The revival is always the last week of July and the trip is first week in August. They literally depart the Monday afternoon after they finish up on Sunday night.
Right now, it’s Sunday night. He probably is heading home to pack. I can’t just go to his house uninvited, especially since I was dismissed. We’ve know each other since the third grade. His parents would let me in, but I know that he won’t see me.
I did give him time to cool off. I’ll wait for him at the church. They’ll take a church bus to the airport after service. I’ll make him see me, and I mean really see me. It doesn’t end like this. In my heart, I just know that it doesn’t.