by A. R. Breck
They are perfection.
Then Roman’s lips open, and he follows along with his dad, his voice a bit raspy, even if it’s still smaller than his dad’s voice. The guttural passion in each word he sings sinks into my stomach and makes my chest twitch with emotion. I don’t know whether to cry or laugh.
Roman is everything.
Nora notices me from the couch against the wall. It's covered by a crocheted blanket, something that my mom would make by hand. I walk over to Nora, the boys too into their music to notice me entering the room. It's warm in here, warmer than it is upstairs. A little stuffy, but the guys don't care.
Cypress is an older version of Roman. His hair is longer, dark like Roman's but with a slight wave. Like it tries to be curly like Nora's but can't quite get there. It brushes his shoulders and shifts back and forth as he bops his head to the song.
He's wearing a band shirt and a pair of jeans with his bare feet, his large toes wiggling as if he's playing the drums.
Nora rocks back and forth to the music, her curls bouncing, and complete euphoria written on her face.
Roman is good.
He's really, really good.
His eyes close a few times, his mouth splitting into a smile as he sings the lyrics of the song. He looks at ease next to his father. I always thought he was laid back, but now I realize there was something about him that's been missing since I met him, and that was his dad. Now that Cypress is back, Roman looks whole.
And sitting here watching him, I feel whole too.
My fingers pop through the holes in the crocheted blanket and I squeeze, pulling the fabric and stretching it as my crush hits me harder than it ever has.
I'm going to marry Roman one day.
CHAPTER SIX
ROMAN
1990
I sit on top of the monkey bars at the park, letting the sun beat down on me. The bars are hot beneath my palms and I grip the metal. The park has always been the go-to place around here, but it's always been a bitch when the sun is so hot it makes the metal burn you like a fried egg on a skillet.
This park has been a monument in my life. I've been coming here since I knew what a park was. In a few weeks I'm heading into high school. This park might not be what it once was, but I still like to come here from time to time. Me and my friends will still play basketball on the court if we need to take a break from playing music.
We started up a small band last year, just playing cover songs and fucking around in my basement. Until I realized my friends can really play, and they realized I can really sing. Together, we started making real music, scratching down terrible lyrics that will never make it an inch out of my basement, but still. It feels good to do this.
Not to mention, Luna has been even more dedicated to her ballet over the past few years, from going one night a week to multiple nights a week. With this summer being full of her ballet and my music, we haven't had a lot of time to spend with each other.
But that's why I'm here tonight, waiting at the park for her to get done with ballet. I wanted to hang out with her. Spend the last couple of weeks before school starts just doing what we do best: being around each other.
At this point in our lives, people just know that if there's one of us, there'll be both of us. We're best friends, but it's more than that. We are so much more than friends, even if we haven't ever done anything with each other. Sure, I kissed her on the cheek all those years ago, but that was the only time—the time we told each other we liked one another.
We've been tight-knit, her and I. Spending as much time with each other while also finding time to hang out with our own friends. She's best friends with Nora, and they hang out every minute she’s not with me. And I hang out with the guys whenever I'm not with her.
But things are changing now. I'm going into high school, and she has one year left of middle school. We're both growing, and although I'm excited as hell to start high school, a huge part of me doesn't feel great about leaving Luna behind.
I don't think Luna is stoked about it either. She's been in a bit of a mood since summer hit. She tries hiding it from me, but I've known her for years. Her sadness hits me straight in the chest like it's my own pain.
I don't think it helps that Harper graduated high school this last year and moved to Iowa for college. She's living in a dorm, and according to Luna, she calls frequently, but I know she misses her sister.
I watch as small kids play on the swings below me. Their parents sit under nearby trees, stretched out on a handmade blanket as they watch their kids from a distance.
"Roman," a voice calls from below.
I brush my hair from my forehead as I look down, seeing Cindy from school. She's in my grade and has always been a bit of a flirt. A little too much, to be honest. She's pretty, but my eyes aren't for her. Whether or not she wants to believe it, I think my heart has been taken my entire life. It doesn't stop her from trying, even though I wish she would.
"Hey, Cindy." I hop down from the monkey bars, feeling a zing of pain shoot up my calves. She has on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I can see the straps of her bathing suit peeking from beneath her clothes. Her blonde hair sits in waves around her head, and her short bangs give a small shadow around her eyes.
"What were you doing up there?" she asks, adjusting the long strap of her purse over her shoulder.
"Waiting for Luna." Her eyes darken at this, clearly displeased with my answer. "What're you doing here?" I ask after a minute when her stare becomes too much.
She nods toward the beach. "I'm meeting Lori down at the beach. Do you want to come hang out with us? We're just going for a little while, then maybe go down to Mickey's Diner afterward."
Didn't I just tell her I'm waiting for Luna?
"Uh, I'm waiting for Luna." My tone comes out less friendly this time. My eyes narrow as I watch her.
She lets out an unsure smirk, pulling at the ends of her hair while she lets out a breathless giggle. "Yeah, but, she's not here right now, is she? Didn't you, like, grow up with the kid? Isn't she like a baby sister to you or something?"
I'm shaking my head before she can even finish her sentence. "I'll pass, and she's not a baby sister." Not in the slightest. Furthest thing from it, actually. I've been watching her straight, lanky body pop with small curves this last year. I've been watching her chest grow, to her embarrassment. Her mom and sister had to go with her to buy some training bras. I pretend that they don't exist, because if I do, I'm going to want to cross a boundary we've never even treaded on.
Trust me, I've wanted to cross that line since I hit seventh grade. When I knew what girls and boys really are. What my parents do when my dad isn't on tour. How babies are made. The thrumming between my legs turned torturous as Luna has gotten older. She's fucking beautiful. She always has been.
"Well…" she digs in her purse and pulls out a scrap of paper and a pencil. Scribbling on it, she sticks it in my palm. Her fingers are tiny and warm as they wrap around mine. She closes my hand, and the paper crumples in my fist. "Here's my number. Call me if you change your mind." She starts to walk away, then pauses, turning around to stare at me. "I don't want to be mean, but what do you see in her? She looks kind of weird, doesn't she? Her dark hair and her gray eyes. Some people think she's a witch."
Disgust and rage light in my chest as I turn away from her. I bet it's the girls that say that, since I've been threatening the guys ever since Duncan in second grade. They all think she's pretty, so I bet if someone has a problem with her, it's one of Cindy’s immature friends.
A flash of color catches my eyes. I look up, seeing Luna walking this way. She's in a blue leotard with pink leggings underneath. Her hair that she's kept long, even after all these years, has been taken out of her tight bun. It falls down her shoulders in a messy heap, with the slightest wave on the top of her head where the ponytail made a kink.
And she's barefoot.
Since the moment she moved here, she prefers to be barefoot. I think at
this point, her feet are stronger than mine. I remember back to when we just met, I was always barefoot, and she thought it was the oddest thing. She started copying me, and within a few days she had blisters and bruises and cuts and scrapes worse than mine have ever been, but she's never looked back.
She has her headphones on over her head and her cassette tape. Her head bobs back and forth and it's like she's floating, more than walking, down the sidewalk.
Hippy.
She's followed in her parents’ footsteps in that regard. Where I'd rather listen to Black Sabbath and AC/DC, she'd rather be listening to John Lennon or The Beatles.
"She's everything," I mumble, barely paying any attention to Cindy as I walk away from her and toward Luna. It's like the sun directly shines on her. No matter where she is, no matter what kind of day it is, she has a brightness around her, making her black hair shine and her gray eyes glow. She's unlike anyone I've ever seen, ever met. She drew me in the first moment I met her, and I've never wanted to walk away. I don't think I'd ever be able to, if given the chance.
She notices me as I cross the street. Lowering her headphones, she asks, “Hey, what’re you doing here?”
“I was going to see if you wanted to hang out?” I ask, suddenly unsure. Why do I feel unsure?
She looks at me a moment, then shrugs. “Sure, why not? What did you want to do?”
I shrug. I never got to that point in my plans. I just wanted to be around her. “Whatever.”
She laughs, and we start walking home. I've thankfully sprouted in height over the last couple of years, and now I'm almost at six feet, finally towering over Luna. It took years, and she kept growing, but one morning I woke up and I was suddenly too long for my clothes.
Now instead of looking up at Luna, I get to look down at her.
"What's wrong?" I ask her once we make it to our street. Her ballet slippers dangle in her fingers, the ribbons wrapped around her wrists, so they don't drag on the ground.
"I don't want school to start." She pouts.
I don't want school to start either, because I don't want to go to school without her.
"Why? It'll be just another school year for you. For me it'll be totally different. I'll be the small fish in the big pond."
She scoffs. "You'll be fine. I'm the one that has to go through a whole year without you." Her voice rings with a sadness I didn't expect. We're in a different grade, so we never have any classes together anyway, and barely see each other unless it's in passing or at lunch. But I’m realizing her sadness runs deep.
She's sad.
I can feel that she's sad all the way to her bones.
I stop us in the middle of the street, the hot wind blowing at my back as I wrap my arms around her. Her arms fold in front of me, her slippers squishing against my chest and her face burrows deep into my neck. I can feel her inhale me, breathe me in. I do the same, burrowing my face in her hair, inhaling her floral scent. She smells like vanilla and flowers with a hint of marijuana that her parents are always smoking in their house.
She backs up, sliding her hands down my arms until she hits my palms. I don't realize I have the stupid note from Cindy still clutched in my palm until I hear the crinkling of paper as her fingers run over it.
"What's this?"
I squeeze the paper tight, but she still manages to pull the damn thing from my grasp.
"What is this?" she asks again. Straightening out the sheet, she reads the girly phone number, staring at it a moment too long. The only sound I can hear are the cicadas in the cornfield behind me, and her perfect scent is replaced by cow manure from the dairy farm down the road.
Her eyes roll up to mine, fury radiating from her form. "Who's is this?"
The words choke in my throat, and I feel like a fucking idiot for not throwing the damn note in Cindy's face like I wanted to in the first place.
"Cindy gave it to me." I sigh, tipping my head toward the clear sky and running a hand down my face. Fucking idiot.
"Cindy… Cindy Paulson?" She seethes. "Why the heck do you have Cindy Paulson's phone number in your hand?"
"She gave it to me…" I see the look on her face, and I put my hands up. "But it's not what you think. I was waiting for you when she came up to me and gave it to me. That's all it was."
Her hands fist at her sides, the crumpling paper losing its life between her fingers. She slaps her palm against my chest, mushing the paper into my shirt. Then she drops her palm to her side, leaving the paper against my chest. I don't grab it, though, and it falls to the ground between our feet.
"Call her," she says, the hurt in her voice palpable. Raw. She sounds utterly wrecked.
"I was never going to call her!" I shout, kicking at the stupid piece of paper on the ground. "I saw you and I forgot all about it."
She shakes her head, taking a step back from me. "It doesn't matter. I knew this would happen. You'll be in high school. I'm still in middle school."
"What the fuck does that mean?" I take a step toward her, and she takes another step back.
"It means that our lives were bound to go their separate ways eventually." Her voice is empty, withdrawn from the entire situation.
From me.
No, fuck that.
"No! Hell no, Luna." I snap my hands out and wrap them around her, pulling her against me. "Go our separate ways? We've done this before, when I went to middle school and you had one more year of elementary. How is this any different?"
"We were just children then."
"We're barely any older!" I shout in her face.
She shakes her head. "You don't get it."
"So, explain it to me!" My hands squeeze her bare arms, goosebumps raising on them even in the humid summer heat.
She squirms until she's out of my arms. Then she unwraps and rewraps her slippers around her arms.
"You don't understand. I've had to watch for years—years—as girls looked at you. Doesn't matter where we go. Doesn't matter who we're with. Guys want to be your friends. Girls want to be with you. I won't be there in high school, and you'll meet someone you want to be with. And what we have… what we've always had, will be over. I know it will." Her groaning words rip from her throat and bleed all over the ground in front of me.
"It's not going to change. We will never fucking change."
She shakes her head, a sad smile on her face. "You say that now." Turning around, she walks away, toward her house, leaving me in the street.
I don't follow her this time, too shocked and sad to fight with her on this.
She thinks what we have will change. She thinks I'm going to change.
Doesn't she know?
I've loved her my entire life.
"That was perfect," Flynn says from the drums. He twirls his sticks around in his hands.
"Ah, there's something missing. Let's go again," I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
I'm standing in the front of the room, my guitar slung over my shoulder and microphone on the stand in front of me. We're working on a combination of cover songs and making our own. Right now, we're trying to go through one of our own songs, but I'm not feeling it today.
I just can't get into it.
I haven't been able to sit still since Luna walked away from me yesterday. I tried going to her bedroom window last night, but she wouldn't open it for me. Now the guys have been here all day, and we're really behind on practicing. I'm trying to put it behind me for just a couple hours so I can focus on the shit I need to do, but I can't.
I can never put her behind me.
We roll through the song one more time.
By the time we’re finished, I have sweat dripping down my temples, and I want to scream. My mind is too disorganized, I can’t get shit straight. It’s messing with my music.
"Perfect, Rome. Let's call it," Clyde says from the bass.
I shake my head, feeling like something's still missing. "No, not yet." My fingers run up and down the smooth guitar strings, wishing it would just
play perfect for me so I could go see Luna.
"Dude," Lonnie says, "What's going on?"
I frown at him as I lift the guitar from over my shoulder and put it in its stand. "What? Nothing." I grab my glass of water and down it, letting an ice cube slip into my mouth. I crunch on it, feeling angry and embarrassed that they can even tell I'm torn up over something.
If they knew it was over Luna, they'd laugh at me until they were blue in the face. They love Luna, and they think of her as a little sister, but they have been making fun of our relationship since they met her.
"You love her."
"She has you whipped."
"You look like a fucking puppy dog."
Always. Always fucking harassing me about it. If they knew I was pouting over something so trivial, I think they would smash my guitar over my head.
"Kathleen and Leslie are going to the movies tonight and were wondering if we wanted to go," Flynn says, thumping the bass drum with his foot.
I sigh, not really interested. Although I can tell Clyde and Lonnie are by the way their ears perk up. "What movie?" Lonnie asks.
"The new Psycho is what Leslie said. Hey, Roman, Leslie said Cindy is supposed to be there tonight. Maybe if she gets scared enough, she'd jump on your lap." Flynn shrugs, like it isn't a big deal.
I hear a tinkering, and look over my shoulder, seeing Nora and Luna standing in the doorway. Nora is staring at Flynn; she's had a crush on him since I could remember. I would intervene on it, except my eyes are locked on Luna's and the devastated look on her face.
I take a step toward her, but she's already gone, only a wave of black hair flowing in the doorway before that disappears. Nora follows her a second later, after a fierce scowl in my direction.
I turn around, glaring at all three of my friends. "I do not fucking like Cindy. Why does everyone keep thinking that?"