Prologue

“How long is eternity?” pondered an eight-year-old Melaney.

Her best friend and partner in crime, the nine-year-old Lucas, furrowed his brows together—either puzzled by the question or unsure of how to answer it.

“I heard Amelia talking on the phone yesterday to Jules.  She was all giggly and stuff; it was disgusting.  She said she’d love some boy named Josh for all eternity,” explained Melaney

Lucas accompanied her story with gagging noises.  It was a globally known fact that boy crazy Amelia was, at thirteen, into the girly romance that sent Melaney and Lucas’s stomachs gurgling. 

Melaney ignored Lucas’s outburst, quite accustomed to it by now.  “She just loved Kevin last week!  So I figured an eternity can’t be that long.” 

Lucas looked at her doubtfully, deciding to provide his view on the whole situation.  “But my mom said that when you get married it’s for eternity.  I know my grandparents have been married for longer than a week.” 

Melaney nodded, then said, “So that means an eternity is for how long you’re married?”

Puckering out his bottom lip, Lucas shook his head no.  “An eternity is just a really long time.”

Deciding that was a sufficient answer Melaney grinned happily.  Providing her next question, she asked “Do you think we’ll be friends for an eternity?”

“Of course,” stated Lucas with conviction. 

Her smiling broadening even more Melaney offered with a twinkling eye, “Then that settles it.  Eternity is forever.” 

Lucas matched her grin with one of his own.  Soon the two began a swinging contest, seeing who could reach the highest.  Pumping legs and hysterical laughter soon left their insightful conversation in the dust.  After all, such questions were common of the duo and therefore looked upon with indifference.

That was how I spent my childhood—in the park two blocks away from my suburban home with my best friend Lucas Steady.

And by our definition of eternity, earth would currently be in a state of obsidian. 

The ultimate downfall of our friendship cannot be surmised into one neat package.

Perhaps it started with the divorce of Lucas’s parents four years later, when he was thirteen.  His mother, who’d once spoke of love as eternity, decided one day that she’d had enough and walked out.  She never looked back to see what she left behind—a son who was so shattered by her abandonment that he gave up on the entire world—even me. 

But the blame does not lie solely on his shoulders.  To say it did would make me a hypocrite.  Despite his removal from me on a personal level, we still kept in contact and exchanged Christmas gifts each year. 

That was until my mom was diagnosed with brain cancer when I was fourteen.  After a year long courageous battle she passed away, leaving her heart broken family behind and a grandbaby that my sister had so desperately tried to have before my mother died.  It was, in all reality, selfish of my sister to do that.  But, Amelia always loved to be the first everything for my parents.  Sadly, resentment formed from Amelia towards her beautiful baby because it failed to come into the world early enough for my dying mother to see.  Even to this day, I still find it hard to blame Amelia for this hatred though.  At the birth of her infant she was but twenty, still a child herself. 

But crushed most of all by the departure of my mother was Dad—poor, sweet, good ol’ Dad.

I have yet to see a man who ever loved a woman more. 

Sometimes at night I would creep towards my father’s room, feet padding quietly on the hardwood floor and sit outside his door, listening to his soft whimpers.  He was strong and never cried in front of the children, not even at Mom’s funeral. 

But it is perhaps harder to be so strong at night, when the settling darkness reminds you of the empty coldness settled in the spot where the love of your life once dreamt peacefully. 

The cute, childish questions I once asked incessantly soon stopped.  The warmth and life of my house no longer existed without my mother.  Even at fifteen I was forced to grow up faster than I was ready for.  Being the only child in the house I took up the chores of laundry and meal making. 

Soon I began to hide within myself, and the fragile relationship Lucas and I once shared went to tatters. 

As children we saw ourselves as immortal and our friendship as an unbreakable bond. 

And I suppose this is why I fail to call him up whenever my ear itches to hear his voice.  It still fills me with bitterness to think that our friendship proved to be but a paper chain that tore easily from the pulls of reality. 

But sometimes I think back to those carefree days, when my life was protected by the white picket fences.  Sometimes I wish so dearly for one more chance with Lucas.

While I became removed and silent by my tragedy, Lucas chose a different path to mask his pain—parties and girls. 

And now, when I pass him in the hall, he sees through me—I am as dead to him as his deserting mother.

At first this used to cut me deep and I would bleed a thousand tears.  I am numb to it now; I am numb to everything. 

I am numb to the fact that I still love him. 

A/N:  Yay!   A new story, what do you think?  It almost made me cry to write this.  Maybe I’m just a wimp, but I can see great potential with this story.  Please review!  I know you want to!