Taylor
The close-cut corners of the yards, the long high whistles from the swallows, the purr of running motors and the bright blue sky that served as a constant reminder of our highest flying dreams. But that’s not what I remember most about
I frowned as she told them to be careful with that, and said, “I’m David…uh, David Williams.”
She looked back at me like I was an insect on her carefully arranged tea-set.
“Can I, uh, help you with anything?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, “No. We’re fine... I said be careful with that!” and under her breath, “Imbeciles.”
I laughed then caught myself and said, “So,
“Huh?” Then her hand flew up to her hat and she suddenly looked sad, “No. It was my mom’s. She brought it back for me.”
“Oh, cool.” I dropped my gaze to the flowers sprouting between my feet, bursting buds of blue, silver and green, surrounded by a lush green patch of grass; a forest for timid creatures.
“I’m
I looked up at her, her eyes clustered with moonbeams, and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Taylor.”
Once she told me, “I’ve stopped believing.”
And I asked, under the silvery sky, “Stopped believing in what?”
“In everything,” her head tilted to the sky until she was drunk with the moon.
And I held her hand as she wished for more, and I was just happy to be what she had settled for.
Just after
A sweet smell of cinnamon greeted me at the cement steps to
The door swung in and I found myself face to chest with someone much too close for my own comfort. I looked up, “Hey Mr. Peterson.”
Giving me a humble smile, he turned and called up the long, winding staircase to a room full of mysteries (at that time I imagined them to blue, though I don’t quite know why I had chosen that particular color.) Hair flung up in a messy ponytail,
“What’s up, Dad?” she said.
“Don’t quite know, myself. What’s going on, David?”
I fumbled with the baseball glove in my hand, noticing the large streaks anew on it, wondering if they had been there before, or if I had just never looked that close. “I was…well, the kids around the neighborhood usually play a game of baseball on Sundays, and uh, if you weren’t doing nothing…you know…if you wanted to play with us…we could use another outfielder.”
The door shut softly behind us and
I laughed and shook my head, “No. I’m the pitcher.”
“I’m not playing no outfield position. I ain’t no girl.”
“Well, you sure do look like one,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes at me and said, “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about! And I won’t play no outfield.” She grabbed the glove from me and threw it down to the freshly muddied ground. Tears splayed in the corners of her eyes as she turned and ran away from me, her hair falling from her elastics and landing just past the nape of her neck.
I bent down and picked up the glove, my heart heavy with wondering about my poor mitt, and my eyes following the trail of her blue flip-flop shoes.
Halfway through the game (we were winning and just needed to keep the other team from a home run, an easy concept when we were playing with rusted bats and spitballs),
The guys were yelling at me to come back and what was I doing, this being our last pitch and me giving up? I blocked them out and said in whispered tones to
Tilting her head as she moved around me, her eyes acknowledged me as if for the first time just before she ran out to the field and took my place. And I watched as she struck them all out with a flick of her wrist.
It was raining when I kissed
She had been wearing that smile and her blue jeans, covered in maple syrup from adventures in pancake making that morning. I had picked her up at six, and we had stayed till midnight, not wanting to leave and wanting so much to be caught up in the storm of our lives. It was on that night that I kissed her, and on that night that she revealed her dreams to me.
Her eyes searched the skies for a single drop of water, and when she was denied, she continued her story, “I’ve started seeing her again, David, in my dreams. She’s calling me…She…,” she touched the rim of her
The first raindrop splattered delicately below her eyelid, reflecting the colors of her iris.
I didn’t want her to leave me. I thought if she went with her mother…somehow, she would leave me. So I told her what I was thinking, and she gave me a soft glow smile followed by a nod of her head. I thought she looked a bit sad, so I tried to cheer her up the only way I knew how; I kissed her as the rain fell down.
The very next month,
A note was pinned to my window screen, on neon green paper and with her scrawling handwriting, one morning, on the saddest day of my life. It had been a year past the summer when I had first kissed her and after I had learned that she had been diagnosed with cancer. It had been the year of her fading smile. It was too late when the ambulances arrived…it had been too late when I had woken up and thought she was still asleep.
They buried her with her
Dearest David,
Don’t think me doing this was a way to hurt you. I’ll always hold you in my heart. I hope you’ll hold me in yours. I know you told me not to go with her…I know you told me to stay strong…but David, it was time. And I held on as long as I could, thinking about you and how I knew that, even if I left you, you would be okay, because you helped me realize that I am real and that believing in stars and rain and sunshine, well it’s not as wonderful as believing in love. Tell my father not to be so sad, and thank your mother for her support. And David…I’ll be waiting in your dreams. If I call you, will you come with me?
Love,
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