by Cece Peters
I took a deep breath, determined to get ahold of myself. I wasn’t going to waste the precious time Matty and I had left together by crying in my kitchen. I put my head up, turned around, and said, “Well, I guess we’d better have the best summer ever before you go, right?” I forced a smile on my face before wiping away my tears.
Matty pulled me to him and hugged me tightly. “Yes, Leah,” he said, “we’ll make this the best summer ever.”
And it was the best summer ever. After school ended in early June, our friends mostly scattered to be summer camp counselors or to take vacations with their families. In junior high, summers had been filled with baseball games and tennis matches, us girls spending hours watching the boys compete. However, those sports were played in the spring during high school; leaving the summer months mainly free until fall sport practices began.
Matthew and I were left mainly to ourselves, and we made the most of our time together. We took advantage of our families’ memberships to the local country club, where we hung out by the pool most weekdays, occasionally jumping in to cool off, only to have a lifeguard yell at us for splashing. We would eat sandwiches and chips for lunch from the concession stand at the club, which we charged to our parents’ accounts; and we drank ice cold pop directly from the cans as we sunned ourselves poolside, laying on the white plastic lounge chairs that we covered with the plush towels provided by the club.
We would slowly start walking home from the country club in the late afternoon. Even though we both had cars, we lived so close by that we always walked. Some days we talked non-stop, other days we were quiet and just took in the slowness of summer. Occasionally, Matty would mention something about moving, such as talking about the house his parents had just bought or that he would have to wear a uniform to his new school. I wish I had gotten him to open up about his fears of moving; but I was so wrapped up in my own emotions that I would try to change the subject. I didn’t want to hear anything about his new school, his new house, or his new life. Finding out later how much he’d struggled adjusting to California made me feel ashamed for being so selfish. But, again, we had both been just kids. We didn’t know how to deal with our own feelings, much less help the other cope.
On rainy summer days, we usually headed to the local shopping mall. We both had our licenses along with cars of our own, but Matty always drove us. We would grab lunch at the food court and then walked around the open, air-conditioned space. The mall was quite large; it had three levels and nearly one hundred and fifty stores; and it was quiet during weekdays with the crowds reserved for the weekends. We would stop to play a few games in the arcade; air hockey was our favorite. Matty always indulged me extra time to browse in the book shop, and I reciprocated by going with him inside the huge sporting goods store.
What was funny looking back at the last months we spent together that summer, and even now, is that Matty and I did not start out as friends. In fact, we began as mortal enemies, or at least that is what my eleven-year-old mind thought. I hated Matthew Boyd when I first met him. And I was sure the feeling was mutual.
Starting sixth grade meant moving to a new school. Three elementary schools merged into my junior high school; so, while I still had most of my friends from my grade school with me, there were a lot of new kids in my sixth-grade class. Coming off the high of being at the top of the rung in elementary school, it was a shock to be knocked back down to the lowest grade, especially with so many older seventh and eighth graders in the same building. They all seemed so grown up; and they treated us sixth graders as though we were babies.
I would have been happy just sticking with my grade school friends in junior high; but soon groups were mingling and new friendships forming. Add to the new social scene was the fact that we now had lockers and moved between every class to a new room and a new teacher seven times a day (and with only five minutes to do it!). Needless to say, I was overwhelmed during the first few weeks of junior high.
“Hey, LEE-AHH, whatcha doing? Still can’t figure out that locker combination? Get it together girl, it’s been three weeks already!” I kept facing my locker door, where I was indeed struggling with the lock, refusing to turn around and look at the group of boys I knew were standing behind me. Unfortunately, I had attracted the attention of the popular group of guys, most of whom were from another elementary school; although two kids from my fifth-grade class, Jimmy and Brian, had gotten in with them.
“Leave Leah alone, dude,” I heard Jimmy say. He was always a sweet boy; I had been shocked when he had joined this new crowd as to me, they seemed like a bunch of bullies. But his good looks and parent’s money made him an attractive friend addition in the highly competitive world of junior high school cliques.
“Oh, sorry! I’m so sorry, Leah; you know I was just kidding, right?” I finally turned around to see Matthew Boyd with a sarcastic smile on his face. Matthew was the head of this little group of punks; he had just moved to town himself, and on to my street no less, and was using harassment of the local girls to get an in with the popular crowd.
“Leave me alone, Matthew,” I said, my cheeks burning as several other students were now stopped in the hallway and were observing the scene. “Just go away!”
“Oh, Leah! Don’t hurt me like that! I’m just being friendly!” Matthew and the rest of the boys, save Jimmy, laughed, and walked away. Brian, who I had considered a friend, didn’t even look at me but turned to leave with the group, which really ticked me off. We’d known each other since pre-school; so much for loyalty. Jimmy gave me a half smile and said, “Don’t let him get to you, Leah; he’s just trying to be funny,” before jogging off to catch up with the others.
Unfortunately for me, Matthew quickly realized how easy it was to push my buttons, and push them he did. He took great pride in taking jabs at me in the hallways and in the classes we shared. I usually kept quiet, but sometimes I would explode and yell at him to back off. This would only energize him to torment me further.
Looking back, it was very mild, childlike teasing. It certainly wasn’t bullying; and I definitely fed into it with my reactions. What really irked me is that Matthew didn’t tease anyone else; it was only me. After about a month into the school year, he had stopped bothering the other girls entirely and was actually friendly towards them. The teachers all loved him because he was so smart and polite. He was already a star athlete, so even the parents idolized him. I seemed to be the only one who did not get along with him.
“What do you mean you don’t like Matthew?” Krista asked one day during lunch, after I had told her how Matthew had been sticking sarcastic messages into the slots of my locker. “He’s so funny and sweet!”
“Funny and sweet to you maybe, but not me,” I grumbled as I picked at my tuna sandwich. “He is so mean to me. I hate him!” I pulled out the latest of his notes, which he had written on a torn-out corner of notebook paper. Leah - Why don’t you wear your hair down instead of putting it in a bun like a nun? Your friend, M. Boyd.
“See,” I said to Krista, “look what he is doing to me. I get notes like these from him every single day. I do not look like a nun! Do I?”
“Oh, he’s just teasing you! Don’t you know that when a boy plays around with you that he secretly likes you? Maybe Matthew is in love with you,” Krista whispered that last part before shoveling a few potato chips into her mouth.
“Love? Give me a break,” I said, although my immature sixth grade mind did start to wonder if maybe Matthew DID like me. He was cute, I could not deny that. He was clean cut without being too tidy; his hair always looked like it was a week overdue for a trim. I couldn’t help but notice the way it curled up ever so slightly in the back near his shirt collar. And he did have gorgeous blue eyes that seemed to almost sparkle whenever he was talking. He was always smiling and wore cool clothes. He was nice to everyone else. Maybe there was a reason he was giving me so much extra attention.
Of course, it only took fifth period history class for me to scratch the
thought of Matthew having a romantic interest in me as he started to tease me about the holes in my jeans. Attempting to be cool, I had ripped the fabric around my knees to give my pants the distressed look that was all the rage. Unfortunately, I had pulled too hard, resulting in gapping, very uncool holes that showed half my legs. My mom had been mad that I’d ruined a perfectly good pair of jeans and made me wear them to school as punishment.
“Leah, did you put those holes in your pants yourself? You must have, because I have never seen holes in jeans that big!” Matthew said as he laughed loudly, with some of the other kids around him joining in. My checks burned with humiliation, and I stewed in silence for the rest of class, ignoring Matty’s further attempts to get my attention.
I hung back after the bell rang and asked the teacher, Mr. Sniders, if I could move to a different seat. When he asked why, I said that I couldn’t see the chalkboard from where I was currently sitting; so, he agreed to move me to a seat in the front row on the other side of the classroom.
The next day I took my new seat far away from Matthew, who immediately yelled across the room, “Leah! What are you doing over there? You sit by me, remember?”
I turned and said loudly, “Not anymore!” I narrowed my eyes and gave him a dirty look before spinning around sharply to face the front of the room with a smug smile on my face. Now Matthew Boyd wouldn’t be able to humiliate me during class.
After the bell rang, I headed out to my locker. Matthew walked by, stopped behind me, and said, “I can’t believe you moved your seat, Leah. You’re going to really miss sitting by me.” He then leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Or maybe I’ll miss sitting by you more.”
Several months later, I would remember that moment and wonder if Matthew had known something I had not; that maybe he could see what our relationship would eventually become. Or at least, where it was headed. However, if you would have told me in that moment by my locker that I would one day love Matthew with all of my heart, that he would be the most important person in my life, I would have thought you insane. Funny how life ends up taking you in a direction you never dreamed it would or even could.
CHAPTER THREE
“I feel kind of bad that I came here but am not inside socializing,” I said as I looked back towards the clubhouse, the silhouettes of my classmates moving around inside visible through the windows. “But not that bad!” I laughed and took another sip of my wine. Matty and I had been talking for over an hour, continuing to bridge our sixteen-year separation gap. The time we’d been apart seemed to easily melt away, and I was feeling nearly as comfortable with him as I had when we were young. It made me happy to know that our connection had been real, that I hadn’t just imagined it in my teen angst. He appeared to be as genuinely interested in hearing about my life as I was his.
“I haven’t been to any of my reunions; I never felt connected to the high school I graduated from, nor my college. They actually had their ten-year reunion, too, a couple of weeks ago, but I wasn’t interested,” Matthew fiddled with his beer bottle; like me, he was only taking small sips of his drink. “I honestly hate remembering my junior and senior years of high school and even college; I just didn’t fit in the way I had in Springville. I never found a better group of friends than I had with you guys. Or a best friend like you, Leah,” he added with a small smile, which made my heart swell.
“Well, we would love to have you at our next reunion,” I said with genuine sincerity, even though I had skipped the five- and ten-year events, myself, due to work. “You’re still a Springville High alum in our hearts, Matty.” And I meant it, as even though I hadn’t been able to attend a reunion, I was still close to many of our old friends thanks to the power of social media. I had also been able to catch up in person with several over the years during my trips home to visit my parents before they moved.
“Thanks,” he replied with a shy grin. “You know, Leah,” he paused before blurting out, “I wanted to call you so badly during those first months in California. I even begged my parents to let me come back to live with Jimmy. They forbid me to call, and they didn’t even entertain the thought of letting me move back or even visit. They kept telling me to just forget the past and to focus on the future. Since we were half-way across the country, they wanted me to just plow ahead and act like we’d never even lived in Springville. Eventually I just gave into their wishes as it was easier than arguing with them. I tried to forget, too, as missing everyone hurt too much.”
“I was so mad at you when you didn’t get in touch!” I practically shouted in reply, unable to hold it back any longer. I hadn’t wanted to ever tell him that, but in that moment, I could no longer keep it in. Hearing his own remorse made me determined to share mine. “I was angry at you for not calling or even writing. When I didn’t hear from you, I assumed you didn’t want to talk to me; so, I never tried getting in touch myself. I was scared that you might have moved on and had already forgotten me.” I took a deep breath before continuing, “I feel terrible about that now, Matty, hearing how hard it was for you. I am really sorry. God, I was so stupid and immature.”
Matty leaned forward and looked me in my eyes, “It’s okay, Leah; it actually makes me feel better hearing that. I just assumed, out of sight, out of mind, ya know? But it was never that way for me, I promise. I thought about you all the time. I’m so sorry you were hurt; it makes me sick that you ever thought I didn’t want to talk to you,” he reached across the table and took my hands in his before continuing, “But I guess if you were mad, at least it meant you were thinking about me, too, right? I wish you had sent a letter, though. I looked in the mailbox every day for months hoping to hear from you.” That last bit crushed me and it took everything I had to not leap across the table and jump into his arms. I realized that I could have perhaps avoided years of heartache if I had just sent one letter. If I had at least tried.
“Always. I was always thinking about you, Matty,” I confessed before worrying that I’d revealed too much. “I mean, we were all thinking about you,” I added, trying to cover up sounding like an obsessed teenager. “We all missed you terribly. Junior and senior years were just not the same with you gone. If I could go back in time, I would have started writing you immediately, I swear I would have. I’d have figured out a way to get in touch with you,” I said as I gently squeezed his hands. “You were waiting for me to write and I was waiting for you to do it first. If only we’d had email or texting back then; we would have been able to figure it out. I guess you can’t count on teenagers to communicate effectively, especially across state lines,” I added with a sad shrug.
For a few moments we sat silently, holding hands, and just looking at one another with slight frowns on our faces, both of us remembering the pain from the past and thinking how perhaps things could have been different had we been more mature. Part of me was internally berating myself at my own lack of attempting to keep in touch with Matty; but the other part was overjoyed to hear that he had missed me, too, and that it had not been his choice to lose touch. He had wanted to write! He had looked in the mailbox every day for a letter from me! I had wasted so much time heartbroken over his leaving, and then months and even years angry at him when HE didn’t get in touch. But the truth was that I myself never even tried to fix the situation.
While I wished I could have turned back time and done it all differently, I also knew that I needed to face reality and accept that I could not change the past. The pain I had felt for so long was melting away, but it was replaced by regret. Would I ever be able to let go of what had happened? I couldn’t go back and redo things; but Matty was here now, and I could at least work towards healing. And perhaps even hope for a better future with him back in my life.
“Woo hoo, what are you two up to out here?” said Krista loudly as she pulled up a chair.
“Damn! You scared the crap out of me!” I jumped in my chair, which caused me to let go of Matty’s hands and put them to my chest in an effort to contain my racing
heart. “Geez, Krista! You know I startle easily!” I had been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even heard her come outside to find us.
“Well, you two look like you’re holding a United Nations summit out here. Talk about intense! So, Matty, where have you been hiding all of these years?” Krista asked, as she settled into her seat and turned her full attention to Matthew.
Matthew laughed at the sight of me still trying to recover from Krista’s abrupt arrival before diving into a shortened version of the story he had told me. And Krista reciprocated, albeit with a much longer tale of what she had been up to over the past sixteen years. I found myself relieving Krista’s last two years of high school, her college years, her teaching gigs, and several of her relationships. By the time she finished talking, both Matthew and I had glazed looks across our faces from listening to her for so long.
“Matthew, I’m so glad we found you again, even if you did show up with Molly,” Krista said, and I could not help but let out a sharp laugh. “We all missed you after you moved away, especially this one,” and with that, she pointed her thumb at me. “Boy, was she devastated after you moved. Right, Leah? You were absolutely devasted, remember? I cannot tell you how many nights I had to comfort her as she cried into her pillow. Remember how much you cried, Leah? It was awful, Matty; just awful! I had no idea how much Leah loved you. You loved him so much, didn’t you, Leah?”
At that moment I can honestly say that I hated Krista more than Molly, and I prayed that a hole would open up below me and swallow me into the ground. I was beyond embarrassed; I was humiliated. Krista was the only friend I had ever let see me cry over Matty; yes, she had spent countless hours at my house comforting me as I sobbed, alternating between sadness and anger. She had never told any of our other friends, swearing that my feelings for Matty and his leaving were safe with her. So, why on earth did she decide to tell Matty about it all now?