”It’s a long walk home, you know.” He looked at me through the darkness of the porch. The sweltering heat of our summer has faded for tonight. Under the trillions of stars that we can see because of our distance from the city, I lean into him and breathe him in. He smells of sun and grass no matter how furiously he scrubs with soap or shampoo. This is the scent that will linger on my skin for the rest of my life.

            “It’s only a ten minute walk, Chris.” He grins sheepishly at me as I cock an eyebrow at him. I know he wants me to sneak him up past my family but I can’t do it. We don’t move. We are both fully aware that neither of us can bear to part with the other. Not tonight.

            “The city’s pretty far from home, you know.” He brings up the topic we’ve both been dancing around for the entirety of our summer break. We said things like “going away” or “leaving for a while” instead of the words “college” and “probably not coming back” and “I’m sorry”. I’m sorry. And the tears begin to surge through my barriers and he’s holding me close and I can feel his body being wracked with sobs. He’s all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever wanted to know. I know I’m not coming back and so does he.

            “I love you, Chris.” He doesn’t reply. I don’t think he can. He falls to his knees and so do I. With the stars as our witnesses, we hold each other for the final time. I memorize the feel of his skin, the curve of his chin, the touch of his hand. He clings to me, clawing at my back. We can’t say a word. The words are clogged in our throats, too many trying to get out at once. I feel a few words trickle down my tongue but they die there, never making it out. I feel like the wind, the water, the fire, and the earth has not only been knocked out of me but stolen by the cruelty of life’s necessities.

            “I’ll love you forever, you know.” He rips himself from me and I feel him rip my heart from him and he walks away. I stare at his back as he fades into the distance. But just before he does I run down my drive way and scream from the top of my lungs for what feels like hours. The words are finally free from my mouth and I throw them up into the world for anyone and everyone to hear: “I love you!” “Forever!” “You and only you!” “I’m sorry!” I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

            My mother comes out just as the sun is rising; I know she’s been watching me from her window since I started. She wraps me in a blanket in the middle of the road and I collapse into her and I crumble. I died that day. His name was never spoken again, I never did go back home, and I never thought about him again. Or at least, I tried.

            I’m fifty now with five grandchildren from my three beautiful children. Nothing is the same. Nothing is like Chris. It’s never too hot in our gated community because the air conditioner is always on and mosquitos are drowned by bug repellent. The father of my children’s name is Damien. He smells of smoke and metals because he’s a blacksmith. I could go months without him and I probably wouldn’t notice. I’ve never seen him cry for me. I say what I want to him because nothing I say matters. There is no clog of words in my throat, instead there’s a drought that has not been cured since the day I left for college. I can’t see the stars through the light pollution of the city and we don’t own a porch. If you stay up too late and have a conversation, you get the eerie feeling that the whole neighborhood can hear you. You’ll probably be reported for disturbing the peace. There has never been a wind, water, fire, or earth for this man or for this life. Nothing is like Chris. Nothing is like my life.

Wrote this on a whim, probably going to rewrite it.