1
Then
I was eight when we met. Do you remember that? I was in third grade. I was small for my age, and all the other kids picked on me. They had plenty of things to go after—who my father was, my slight lisp, how my clothes were all too baggy, and how I didn't have a running washing machine at my house, and so oftentimes my clothes weren't quite as clean as they should have been…because washing clothes in the sink could only go so far. All were fair game. My classmates had made my life a living hell all through elementary school. And I expected it to continue…until the two of you started school.
You started a new school that year. You and your brother had just moved into town. You were only a few months older than me, but you weren't scared of anything. And when you saw me on the playground, and you saw how some of the kids had picked up rocks from the ground and were going to throw them at me, you marched right in. And while Caiden was yelling at them to stop, you were the one who actually tackled Marshall, the biggest kid, who had been particularly awful to me for years. And you didn't even know me.
And when you got up after punching him several times, your lip was bleeding, but you gave me the biggest smile and told me it was all going to be okay.
Do you remember that?
Neither of us noticed the fact that Caiden was also looking at me.
Wasn’t it funny how a story like ours could happen like that, even at that young of an age?
We were best friends after you and Caiden defended me that day. Maybe the two of you were more than best friends to me, maybe you were my saviors. Because after years of living in hell, you made sure that school became my safe place.
Remember how Caiden always used to bring extra for lunch, and pretend that he wasn't hungry, but he would actually give it to me? I was in the free lunch program, but both of you thought the school lunches were disgusting and wouldn’t allow me to eat them. You never noticed how I snuck the cafeteria food in my backpack after I ate what Caiden brought because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have had dinner.
Do you remember how you would beg your parents to let me come over? And even though I was dirty and small, and your parents wished you had other friends, you told them that I was yours, and somehow, you got them to listen.
What you didn't know, or you refused to see, was that Caiden also begged your parents just as fiercely, and he also told them that I was his.
I just wanted you to know that if I had known how it all would've ended up, even at eight years old, I would've run as far away from the two of you as I could.
After I turned ten, Dorothy Miller announced to the whole school at lunch that she was going to marry you. So I punched her.
Do you remember that?
For some reason, the cool thing that fall was for everyone to pretend to get married. But you and Caiden were who all the popular girls wanted to marry.
You got jealous because Caiden asked me to marry him first, so you went ahead and pretended to marry Dorothy, even though it made me cry.
Remember showing up at the pretend ceremony during recess? How Caiden stood there looking so serious—well, as serious as an eleven-year-old boy could—and he promised me he was going to love me forever and ever.
You laughed along with the other kids, who laughed because they all knew it was a joke that someone like Caiden would ever really love someone like me.
Remember when you found me crying afterwards, because it was the first time you’d ever laughed at me? Then you started crying because you felt so bad. You told me that even if Caiden loved me, you were going to love me forever and ever, too.
Then you told me you just wanted me to know that you would love me more, no matter what.
And even at ten, I wanted you to kiss me.
When I was twelve, things grew even worse at home. I didn’t tell you, because the whole thing was really embarrassing. But you saw bruises on me, and I knew you didn’t believe me when I told you I fell down at recess every day playing soccer.
You started walking me home every day after that first time I lied to you. That first day, your parents didn't know where you went, because you hadn't told Caiden, or asked permission. They found us halfway to my house. Your mom was shrieking, because she was so scared. You looked right at her and told her that you had to protect me.
Remember how Caiden got out of the car and hugged me because I was upset that you'd gotten in trouble? Remember how Caiden begged your mom to give me a ride home every day? Remember how she said that she couldn't because she didn’t know my mom?
That year was really hard. Maybe all the other years were hard too. But I think what stuck out in my mind about that year was that it was the first time I realized how big the difference between us really was. I had never seen your mom's Range Rover before. I think Mama had sold her car by then to help pay the property taxes on our home.
I told myself in that moment that no matter what, I would keep a small part of myself away from the two of you.
Then you pitched a big fit, and your mom agreed to drop me off that one time, and I realized how hard keeping myself separate from you was going to be.
I was thirteen when Caiden told me you kissed Marcy Thomas. I confronted you and told you that you had ruined everything. I screamed at you about doing it, and you tried to tell me that Marcy was the one that had kissed you. But I didn't care.
We were supposed to be each other's first kiss.
And so when Caiden kissed me under the bleachers a week later...I kissed him back.
It was a fumbling kiss, but still a really good one. And Caiden told me he loved me again, and this time it wasn't because of a fake marriage ceremony. I told him I loved him back, because I did.
But even then, I knew it probably wasn't the same kind of love that he was talking about.
When I got home that night, you don’t know this, but I cried. I cried because I wished the whole time that I had been kissing you.
2
Now
Beeeeeep. Beeeeeep.
The sound of the hospital equipment ground on my nerves more than usual. Why did I do this to myself? Why did I come every week to sit by the bedside of my former boyfriend? Guilt?
After all, it was my fault he ended up here. It was my fault that the world would never see his wide smile, or the dimple that was only on one cheek.
I thought the guilt would fade in time, release itself the way that sorrow and loss often do. But that hadn’t been the case. It had been two years, five months, and eighteen days since I last saw his smile. And even then, the aftermath of what happened that night remained emblazoned in my mind, just as vivid as if it happened yesterday.
The memory of his smile had faded though. All I could remember now was the stark grief on his face now when we last spoke.
He should have been taken off the machine years ago, but his parents hadn't been able to do it. One thing was for certain, you couldn't accuse Caiden’s parents of neglect. This room was proof of that, more like a shrine than a hospital bed at this point.
I usually came on Fridays, a punishment of sorts, so I would make sure not to be too happy over the weekend. Which really was stupid, because being “too happy” had never been a threat in my life. I was here on a Monday morning, though, today. It marked a special occasion.