Growing Up [GP#4]

Graded Post #4

This is a fictional piece.

He laughed as I fell over the pole, tumbling into the soft tufts of grass below. My head was spinning and I attempted to sit up and the world was upside down and he was there. I was never the most coordinated of people, nor was I the smartest or prettiest or most athletic… or the best of anything, really. Though, when I told that to him – when I confessed my fears and what I assumed to be cowardice, he told me that I did have a talent. He told me that I had the best ability of all – and that was to make people smile. He told me that no matter what, I was always there for people to come and talk to and I would definitely listen and take in and help comfort. And that, according to him, was the best thing in the world.

I loved him. Those words have never left my lips. At first it scared me and I was filled with anxiety and fright, but soon enough I came to terms with it. Soon enough, I embraced the one-sided emotions and it was no longer awkward to be alone with him. Even if I told him, there was no way he'd return my feelings. We've been together for forever and a day, and I didn't want to do anything to disturb that peace. After all, I wasn't pretty or cute or beautiful, and he was almost painfully popular and friends with most of the girls at our school. Any of them would be willing to go out with him if he asked, and all of them were so much better looking and more talented than I. It would be best if I kept my feelings to myself – the last thing I wanted to do was to create some form of tension between us.

There was a moment of silence as I flopped back down into the grass' embrace. Before, when I was wrestling with the cursed hormones and puberty, silent moments like these were hard to handle. It always seemed like I needed to break the silence. Now those days were gone. After all, as they say, you've truly reached the peak of friendship when there's no need to talk. It was enough to just have him near me. A simple act like that made me ridiculously happy, as if I were a young schoolgirl experiencing her first love. Though, I suppose, in the end, that's what I was. After all, I was just a high school sophomore and he a senior.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" It was one of our usual conversations. He'd address me in a completely informal, almost rude sort of fashion, then usually follow up with something sweet… or something insulting. But it tended to be less of the later.

"I'm a senior now…" He mumbled it to himself, as if trying to confirm its reality himself. I didn't blame him; it was rather hard to fathom myself. It seemed like only yesterday the two of us were pint sized and climbing an apple tree in hopes of touching a cloud.

"Is that a bad thing?" I rolled closer to him and poked him gently in the gut. He twitched away, and his expression lightened a bit.

"That means I'll be leaving soon."

"Oh." I squeaked out my answer. For a while, I had been forcing that information to the back of my mind since I didn't feel like coming to terms with it. But that was right – soon enough, he'd be leaving within the next few months to start an apprenticeship at his uncle's place. He'd be leaving for another country, leaving me alone for the very first time.

"Will you miss me?" There was a small break in the conversation before he said this. I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not and I wasn't sure how to answer his question. While I fumbled for my words, he hopped onto his feet, dusting the grass and dirt from his jeans.

"I…I…" I mumbled. How was he expecting me to answer? "I'll call everyday! That way, you won't be lonely!" My phone bill would be horrendous, but at least I'd be able to hear his voice.
He laughed and pet my head, as if I were a small kitten or puppy that just made his day. Which was probably how he saw me – even so, that was fine. At least he cared for my existence. I made a small mewing sound and he swept me up into his arms, as if I weighed nothing. He stood for a little while longer before plopping back down onto the ground, holding me in his lap. The conversation died down once more, and we sat listening to the wind.

"You'll… come back, right?" I voiced the question before thinking.

The faint laughter of children at play echoed through the air and he didn't answer. I felt my heart pounding against my ribcage as I waited for him to answer. His eyes were lost in thought, and I turned my face away.

" 'If I am not with you when you die, that is just. It is right.' "

" 'Prayer for my Father' by Robert Bly." I mumbled in response. Poetry, prose, and writing in general were my weak points, and he knew that all too well. Every now and then he'd recite a few lines from a piece and I'd guess who the author was. He also used the verses as answers to questions that he couldn't answer in his own words. "I...I don't like that."

He let out a small sigh and hugged me to his chest. "Don't worry about it. My uncle's letting me come home for Christmas, so…" His voice trailed off as I buried my face into his shirt. I was acting like a spoiled brat, but I didn't care. We had been together for as long as I could remember, and he was the closest person to me. To have him leave… Even with weeks of mentally preparing myself, there was no way I could accept it. I needed him by my side. If not, I didn't know what I'd do.

I felt his grip tighten and he let me stay there, hugging me close so no one could see I was crying. We sat there until I exhausted myself and fell asleep in his arms and he carried me home, and the next day I woke and he was sleeping on my floor, holding my hand as if he was scared I'd disappear.