Summary: It was the novel things that got to her in the end. They always did
Keep me closer
I'm a lazy dancer
When you move I move with you - Metric
It was the novel things that got to her in the end. They always did. Pink cats coated in wax, the smell of pie from that place in town, frightening snakes with cutesy pie names and alcohol that tasted like candy drank from a glass with a sugared rim.
It was his humor that got to her in the end. He always managed to get to her somehow. Tied to another boy by a necklace, looking over her shoulder and staring into his eyes, wanting a sip of the big gulp he was carrying in his hands.
It was time that got to her in the end, time to leave, and time to end things with all those boys at school with bright eyed futures, just learning how to put on a tie without choking. Time do decide on a life that would lead to somewhere outside of a pink and frilly house, filled with all those fantastical novelties and silly things she can't bear to let go of.
It was the last day and she was past the point of caring if her gown made her look fat because she had walked on to that stage gracefully, smiled, waved, threw her hat, popped the champagne. Hey mom, hey dad, hey Rusty. Can't believe she made it. Grad school in New York., pretty exciting right, right? - Journalism just seemed to fit. A laugh, well she always was a good detective.
It was the last day and all those novel things were in boxes with labels, destined for a new house, destined to the mantel piece, the tables and eventually another box in the attic. But for now she'll never forget anyone, of course she'll write, well facebook her actually, she never checks her email.
It was the last day and she had said goodbye with a smile, exchanged numbers, gave hugs and didn't feel the need to reach for the Kleenex box but she is waiting until the end of the night to cry. Sappy goodbyes were overrated anyways. Besides, all those boxes are in the car, and the diploma is sitting in the passenger seat, like an honored guest who finally made it over.
It is the last few moments and she is shutting the trunk, looking at the house, wondering if there is one last experience she needs to capitalize on before she leaves. She can't think of any. She thinks she feels grown up, she knows she feels tired, there's been a lot of drain tonight and suddenly she is back home for the summer and then suddenly she will be meeting a new friend called real life and she's not sure if she's ready for that crowd yet.
It was always the novel things that got to her. He stops her just as she is about to pull away. She is tired as she pulls down the window, she has already said her goodbyes, he has already congratulated her on the New York school, she has already wished him luck on the teaching gig in Canada, she has already been polite and she isn't ready to use the Kleenex box. He hands her a black box and she tucks it in her pocket. Open it. She says no, she wants to save it for a rainy day. He shrugs, fair enough and makes a joke about the weather. His gifts, his jokes, his goodbyes are all eating at her insides so she tells him to get in the car. He tells her he has a flight in two hours. She tells him it will only take a moment. The diploma is pushed off the seat, the door slams and her foot hits the pedal hard. Where are we going he wants to know, she laughs and says she's working on it.
It is the pie shop she pulls up at and she knows that he knows she has that smile on her face and without looking she knows he has that smile too. She tucks the memory away and gets out of the car; its five minutes till closing but blonde hair and a low cut top can do wonders. He takes her hand and they're walking through the door and even though it should feel like déjà vu it doesn't. Goodbye pie he smiles, she smiles back. Figured we owed it to each other, and to our stomachs.
It is a tart cherry goodbye pie, and for a moment she wants to know if the bitterness in each bite means something. Instead she is eating in silence looking at him straight in the eyes looking at her in the eyes eating silently. They finish in silence. Pull away, throw down a twenty and never look back. Into the car, drive, drive, drive, she doesn't want the ride to end so she drives slow enough that he makes fun of her.
It is back at school, sitting in front of his house. He doesn't want get out; she offers a ride to the airport, he declines. They are sitting, sitting, sitting, hands clasped tightly not really ready to move because moving implies so many fucking things and she isn't sure if she wants anything to with any of that.
It is his sigh and his hand on the door, like a hand on a trigger and it goes off and suddenly they are All. Over. Each. Other. Hands tangling through hair, lips kissing hard and soft and she's pressed against the door and he's awkward over the gear shift but neither of them are letting go. She can't be certain who said it first, but suddenly I love you I love you I love you I love you is breathless and whispered onto skin, sealed with a kiss.
It is many, many minutes later and he is pulling up his pants and she is straightening her shirt. Heavy breathing, hand prints on the car windows just like titanic, he makes a joke about the fact that more than one person walked by saw, and she laughs to ease the tension. He smiles wistfully. Its time to go and they both know it. He opens the door and looks at her hard. It my lavaliere, he says, motioning to the box. She smiles; she knows that, that's why she was saving it for a rainy day.
It is time, and he gets it, and she gets it and neither say goodbye because they are better than that. He hopes she doesn't call. She hopes he doesn't write. He doesn't want to hear about her new friend and her new classes and her new boys, he doesn't want to think of her again until he is ready, and then she will be all he thinks about. She doesn't want to hear about his life, far, far away, she doesn't want to see or even think of him again, until a blustery fall day somewhere, sometime, she doesn't want to see him until he shows up at her doorway out of the blue, because then they will both be ready. He knows this, she knows this. She drives away and doesn't look back.
It's been five minutes and she pulls over on the highway, it's not raining, not even close but she puts on the lavaliere anyway. Third times a charm. It was the novelty of the gift that got to her; it was his jokes in the car, and his kisses on her skin that got to her. He always will. This means nothing outside of Cyprus Rhodes but she plans on wearing it until some unforeseeable fall day and then he can kiss off her skin, but that is not now, nor will it be any time soon. She turns on the radio and drives.
So I should be writing Waiting In Moments but I can't seem to finish the last chapter- it's almost ready but not quite there yet.
Anyways I was trying to write the last chapter and this came out instead =)
Please review, it would mean the world to me =)