by Cece Peters
Matty smiled a sad smile and leaned down to kiss me. “I love you, too, Leah. Always.” He rolled on his back and pulled me over with him so that I ended up on my side. I snuggled into him and said, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”
“Me, too,” he replied, as he played with my ponytail, twirling my hair around his fingers.
“What time do you leave tomorrow?” I asked hesitantly, not wanting to hear the answer but knowing that I needed to know.
Matty sighed and said, “The moving trucks are coming at eight in the morning, but my mom and I are leaving for the airport at six. My dad is going to stay behind to supervise the loading of the truck. He’ll start on the road by the afternoon. My parents sold my mom’s car but are keeping my dad’s. They’re already talking about getting fancy new cars once we are in California.”
I glanced at my clock radio. “It’s eleven-fifteen; how long was your parent’s party going to go for?”
“Midnight,” Matty answered. “We have about an hour left before I have to get back. And before your folks get home.”
We locked eyes before I settled back into him, holding on for dear life. There was so much I wanted to say, and I even considered trying to initiate sex with him again, even though I was sore and no longer in the mood.
All I really wanted to do was just feel his arms around me and his body against mine, to remember his scent and the feeling of his warm skin. I wanted to remember every last minute together before he was gone forever. I snuggled closer into his side, resting my hand on his chest while he ran his fingers slowly up and down my back. I loved the feeling of my bare breasts pressing into his skin and how our legs were crossed over one another’s. This was what people meant when they said that two people become one, I thought.
We laid together in silence, the only noise the sounds of the night coming through my still open bedroom window. I willed time to stop, to let me savor my time with Matty longer. I couldn’t imagine being able to let him go.
“Leah, honey! Are you home?” I heard my mom yell from downstairs.
“Shit!” Matthew and I both whispered in unison, jumping out of bed. I wrapped the blanket around me while Matty threw on his swim trunks and tee shirt. I looked at my clock to see it was already twelve-thirty; we had dosed off and lost track of time.
We rushed to the window as we had done many times before when Matty had stayed over too long without my parents knowing. Matty put his hand on the window sill, preparing to climb out, but he turned around and kissed me hard on the lips. “I love you, Leah, remember that. Best friends forever, no matter what, okay? Promise?”
“Yes, forever and always, I promise. I love you, too, Matty.” And with one last quick kiss, Matty climbed out the window and scaled down to the lawn, looking back up at me one last time and giving a wave before running off towards his house. I could hear my mom coming up the stairs, so I ran into my bathroom and turned the shower on. I heard her open my bedroom door but then close it again when she heard the water running.
I was out of breath and shaking, both from almost being caught in bed with Matty by my folks but also from the events of the evening. I sat down on the toilet, and there was blood when I wiped. Just some spotting, nothing too bad. I took a shower, hating to wash Matty off me.
I tossed and turned all night; I could still smell Matty on my bedding. I cried off and on, drifting in and out of sleep. I felt some guilt over having sex; I was no longer a virgin, and I had thought I would wait until I was married so that my husband would be the only man I would ever be with. But on the other hand, I was happy that I had been with Matty. I loved him, and I knew he loved me. I told myself that because we loved each other that it was okay. We hadn’t had sex; we’d made love, which wasn’t a sin, I convinced myself. And it was a special circumstance, seeing that Matty was leaving. God would forgive me, I hoped. I mean, if I had my way, I would marry Matty; so, whether we were together now or later, I had always wanted him to be my first and my only.
I woke up suddenly to sunlight streaming through my window and the sound of a large vehicle turning onto our street, which I knew immediately was the Boyd’s moving truck. That meant I had missed Matty leaving with his mom for the airport earlier. I had thought about setting my alarm so that I could wake up and stand at the window to wave goodbye to him as he drove away; but I was honestly glad that I hadn’t done that as I don’t think I would have been able to bear watching his car disappear down the road.
I finally got up and went into the bathroom, where again there was a little bit of blood when I wiped. I didn’t know then that I would soon bleed much worse.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I awoke with a start to realize I had drifted off to sleep. I looked over to see Matty snoring softly next to me on his lounger; his sleeping face looked exactly the same as it had when we were kids. At some point, we had dropped one another’s hands, although Matty’s arm was still dangling and hovering above the ground. I smiled at the sight of his chest gently rising with each breath before getting up quietly to go inside. The dogs had gone back in on their own at some point and were in their beds napping. I went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, debating whether or not I should show Matty a box I kept in my closet. I finally decided to go upstairs and at least look at it myself before deciding.
I was just pulling the large cardboard box out from my closet when I heard Matty calling for me. I hesitated a couple of seconds before making the decision that I did, in fact, want to show him the contents. “I’m up here!” I yelled, figuring he might as well come upstairs to see what I had as I did not think I could haul the heavy box down to the main floor.
A few moments later, Matty was standing in my bedroom door frame. He still looked a little sleepy after his nap, and even though we had been under some shade, his skin glistened slightly from the heat. “Was I snoring?” he asked.
“Like a chainsaw,” I joked. “The neighbors called to complain!”
“Ha!” Matty replied. “Whatcha got there?” he asked, stepping forward into the room.
“Well,” I hesitated. “How would you like to take a trip down memory lane?” And with that, I opened the lid of the box to reveal the stacks of photos, notes, and yearbooks from our childhood.
“Oh, wow,” Matty exclaimed as he dropped on his knees across from me to examine the contents. He scooped up a handful of pictures and started eagerly flipping through them. Most were of the two of us but there were also group shots of us with our school friends along with yearly class headshots and oversized, glossy pictures from our school dances.
We gravitated to those dance photos first: freshman and sophomore year homecomings, winter formals, and proms. Matty and I had always been each other’s dates for the dances, although we went to the events with our friend group. Pairing up allowed everyone to exchange corsages and boutonnieres and to have photos taken as a couple by the professional photographers who set up at every event. For the formal dances, we all rode together in rented limos and went to fancy restaurants beforehand. And once at the dance, everyone danced with one another. In addition to couple pictures, we also had group pictures taken by the photographers.
We laughed at the photos of ourselves all dressed up, my hair and makeup way overdone and Matty’s hands around my waist in the awkward way the photographer always posed everyone. We’d never been able to take posing for the pictures seriously, unable to keep proper smiles on our faces, always cracking up at the silliness of the whole thing. The pictures of just the two of us showed two teenagers who were happy and comfortable in each other’s presence.
Flipping through the old pictures brought back so many good memories, memories I had pushed down after Matty moved away. It had been too painful to remember all the times we had spent together; before the start of junior year, after Matty had left, I had put all the photos and mementos in the box and hid it away. I had only opened the lid a few times over the years, quickly putting it back on as just seeing the items inside m
ade me get a lump in my throat.
“Yearbooks! I haven’t seen these in ages. My mom packed up most of my room, and I was never able to find my collection of photos once we got to California,” Matty said, looking up at me with an angry look on his face. “She swore she packed them for me, but I suspect she may have thrown them away or at least hidden them well. I ended up with no pictures from here except the ones I had in my wallet.” He looked up at me before saying, “The wallet you gave me, of course, with your picture tucked inside.” He smiled at me, reaching around, and pulling that very wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it up to show me that my picture was still where I had placed it all those years ago.
“I can’t believe you still have that!” I said, overwhelmed with emotion. The brown leather wallet itself was worn but still in surprisingly good condition. My picture was in the little plastic photo protector that had come with the wallet, the same holder I had slid my picture into sixteen years ago. I reached out and flipped the plastic over to find our prom picture on the back side, again, where I had placed it before putting the wallet into a gift bag and giving it to Matty at his going-away party.
“Oh, Matty,” I said, not sure what to say, just smiling back at him. I, too, had a picture of Matthew in my wallet, although I had it tucked inside an interior pocket. I wanted to keep my memories of him to myself; I didn’t want anyone to see the photo and ask me about him.
We sat for a few moments, stupid grins on our faces as we just looked down at the wallet, which was now laid open on the floor. “I think my parents just wanted me to forget the past completely,” Matty said as he finally folded the wallet up and tucked it back into the pocket of his shorts. “I should have packed my own things and not left it to my mom. However, I was thankful that I at least had these two pictures of you.”
“My folks wanted me to forget, too” I confessed. “I mean, not to the point of hiding or throwing anything away. But they saw how upset I was after you moved. They strongly encouraged me to move on and concentrate on school and getting into college. They loved you, you know that; but I don’t think they saw us being able to stay in contact with so much distance between us.” I thought to myself that my parents also had another reason for me to forget Matty; but, again, I wasn’t going to share that with him. Not yet, at least. “They thought it was best for me to put the past in the past in hopes that I wouldn’t be so sad anymore.”
Which is what I had done. After spending the months after Matty moved being weepy and moody and crying myself to sleep every night, I realized I had to find a way to get myself together, at least publicly. I still cried in private; although, as Krista had told Matty at the reunion, she had been there a few times when I broke down. Fortunately, school offered the perfect distraction. “Like you, I threw myself into school work junior and senior year,” I said. “I also got a part-time job working at a clothing boutique at the mall. I just kept as busy as possible.”
“I guess school work saved us both, huh?” Matty asked, giving me a sad smile.
“Yes,” I agreed, before adding, “Although I didn’t finish tenth in my class like you, smarty pants!”
“Well, I always told you that I was a genius, right?” We both laughed but were clearly still thinking about how different things might have been if Matty and I been able to keep in touch. Would we have stayed close and maybe even reunited after high school? Or would the distance have driven us apart? Despite moments of intimacy over the years, and especially the day before he moved, we had never been an official couple. While a lot of people treated us as such, we didn’t consider ourselves boyfriend and girlfriend. I know that I felt we were more than that; and I always thought Matty had, too. What we had was deeper and more special than some high school romance. I think I would have been even more devastated had our friendship fallen apart due to distance than I was having it cut off the way it had.
I refocused my attention of the contents of my memory box. “Hey, look at this one!” I said, pulling out a picture of us with our casts on.
“Oh, man!” Matty exclaimed. “We were babies!” He stared at the picture and laughed quietly. “Breaking our arms was really a turning point for us, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “You were nice to me from then on.”
“Hey! I was nice to you before! What are you talking about?” he said with a sly grin. “I loved to tease you back then, just to get a reaction out of you. You wouldn’t talk to me otherwise.”
“What?” I was taken aback at the accusation. “You never tried to actually talk to me. You just harassed me!”
“Well, I was new in town, remember? Everyone already had friends from their elementary schools when they started sixth grade, but I had just moved to Springville and didn’t know a soul. I saw you standing across the street on the day we moved into our house. You looked like you were nice, and I hoped maybe you would be friends with me so that I would know someone on the first day of school. But when I waved at you, you turned and ran into your house.”
“Oh, my God!” I said, suddenly remembering that moment, which I had completely forgotten about. “I did, didn’t I? I had been watching you and thought you were cute, so when you waved at me, I got so nervous that I ran into my house and hid. I was afraid you were going to try to talk to me and that I would embarrass myself.” I put my head in my hands, internally berating myself at the sudden recollection of that moment. “I can’t believe I was so stupid! No wonder you picked on me at school. You must have thought I was a total snob.”
Matthew laughed and reached over to touch my shoulder. “We were eleven years old, Leah. I think we can forgive ourselves for acting a bit childish. Plus, knowing me I still would have ended up teasing you as it was just so much fun!” He ducked as I pretended to take a swing at him. “And it did all end up working out in the end, right?”
“Yes, it did,” I agreed, before shaking my head to clear out the memory of me initially snubbing Matty. I turned my attention back to the picture of us in our casts. My mom had taken it the day I came home from the hospital. I was sitting up in my bed, and Matty was in my desk chair next to me, leaning over with his face close to mine so that we would both fit into the camera frame. Matty looked adorable with a big smile on his face. I, however, appeared drugged, which I was, with a crooked grin on my face. I was shocked at how young we looked; Matty was right, we had been babies, just twelve years old that day. But even though the photo had been taken twenty years prior, I still remembered that period time as if it had happened last week.
Matty had his cast taken off a few weeks before mine as his arm had healed much faster. He told me all about the doctor using a power saw to remove his cast, which made me nervous. What if the doctor accidentally cut me; or worse, sawed my arm off? When it was my turn to have my cast removed, Matty came along with me and my mom to the doctor, and the nurse let him come into the exam room with me so he could watch my cast being sawed off. I was usually comforted by Matty’s presence, but he got so excited about seeing the doctor use the power tool on me that it made me even more anxious about it being so close to my skin.
Both of our casts were covered with autographs and drawings from our family, friends and even teachers. We had each been the first to sign the other’s cast. I’d written, Thanks for a fun Christmas BREAK, ha-ha! Leah on his; he wrote, Cast Buddies for Life! Matty on mine. By the time our casts came off, they were filthy dirty and stunk something awful; but we both thought they made cool keepsakes.
I recall that afternoon so clearly: Matty rode with my mom and me from my doctor’s appointment back to my house; my mom started dinner while Matty and I headed up to my room to put my cast away. My parents never objected to Matty being in my bedroom. They had to have known in later months and years that he came in through my window some nights; he made quite a bit of racket climbing up the trellis to my second-floor ledge. I don’t know if they just trusted us completely - after all, they thought of Matty as a son - or if they were too naïve to
worry about us being alone in my bedroom together. Regardless, Matty was free to come and go as he pleased; and, unless he snuck in via my window late at night, the only reason I ever shut my bedroom door was to keep my sisters out.
“Where did you display your cast?” I asked, looking around for a space to show mine off. I rarely went to Matty’s house, and I had only been in his bedroom twice. I cleared a section on my white bookshelf for my cast to set. Matty had gone back to the pond and brought back some stones from the shore to commemorate our big accident; I placed a few on the shelf surrounding my cast.
“It’s on the top shelf of my closet,” he said with a shrug. “My dad didn’t want it out for anyone to see; he said it wasn’t anything to celebrate or remember. He even tried to throw it away, but my mom intervened and said I should keep it. She said it was a good reminder for me to never be so stupid again. I figured the closet shelf let me still see it without my dad having to.”
I wanted to say something, but I was also afraid to criticize Matty’s parents, especially his dad. I had once said something about them being too strict and Matty had snapped at me that I didn’t know them. I realized it was best for me to just listen to Matty complain about them but to keep my opinions to myself. They were, after all, his mom and dad and pretty much the only family he had.
I realized I needed to change the topic away from our casts. “Well, a few more weeks of sitting out gym class and I’ll be back to being the volleyball champion of our grade,” I said seriously, although I was clearly joking.
“Are you kidding?” Matty replied, laughing. “You are the worst volleyball player ever. I don’t even think you can call yourself an actual player. More like a wanna be!”
“Hey! I have hit the ball at least twice! I once even got it near the net, if not exactly over it!”
“You hit the ball with your face, maybe; but not with your hands!” Matty said before he launched into an impression of me trying to duck and dodge the ball.