For once the weather was doing as I wished—raining. It poured buckets and buckets of water that flooded the poorly designed drainage systems on our streets. I remembered how, as I child, I would dance with Lucas in the ankle deep water on such days, splashing each other and laughing hard until be gasped desperately for breath. Memories like that now settled in my mind, as I meticulously applied make-up and braided my hair. The rain would be sure to destroy whatever work I put into my appearance, but I wanted it that way. When I returned home, I wanted to see the running mascara and frizzy hair and feel like I could blame it on the weather. Those aren’t tears you’re seeing; they’re raindrops. The moon prints you see in my palms are from holding my hands so tightly, because it’s cold outside. They’re not the wounds of a desperate attempt to hold myself together.

These excuses were for myself alone because no one else would notice my worn down appearance. Today was the day when everyone expected me to be angry and bitter. On this very day, two years ago, my mother passed away.

I did not race through the rain as I headed towards my car, loving the way each dropped plopped upon my skin with surprising warmth. I could feel the humidity pulling at my hair, beckoning it to stick out like Medusa’s mane of snakes.

On the way to the graveyard, I hummed along with the radio, pretending for a moment that I wasn’t heading to the place I was, and that more importantly, I wasn’t doing it alone.

The graveyard where my mother was buried looked just like any old graveyard. Gravestones, varying in shape, stood upright. Some were cracked, beaten down by weather and probably inconsiderate teenagers. I trailed past these, feeling as if my body was not my own. I was simply watching, with sympathy, some poor, worn-down girl walk towards the grave of a loved one. My feet squished on the soft ground, mucky from the heavy rain and overgrowth of grass and weeds. The names of lost ones spoke to me as I passed, beloved wife, daughter, mother, sister… friend. And here, a baby who was only six months old. Trevor. He’d be nearly my age now, if he were still alive. What kind of person would he have become? Would he play sports, or chess, or computer games? Would he run a five-minute mile? Would he lose his virginity to an older woman? Would he wait until marriage? Probably not. All these little quirks about a person that develop over time would never happen for Trevor…

I glanced at the gravestone. They would never happen for Trevor Campbell. I wondered about this boy’s family. Had they moved on after the death? Had it torn the parents apart? What was his mother like? Or his father?

I was struck suddenly with the realization that it didn’t matter. Nothing about this baby’s death, over a decade ago would change my life at all. How many people suffered the loss of a loved one every day? Who was I to mope and cry a fate that would undoubtedly befall us all? Why was it that my family fell apart when so many learned to go on stronger, or the same, or together… anything but this helpless flailing through life.

There she was. Her body was six feet below my very feet. I gulped deeply, and knelt to the ground, immediately feeling the soaking touch of the grass to my wobbly knees.

“Mom,” I gasped out, not able to form more words for her. I let my tears speak for myself. They poured over my cheeks, hot mixing with the warm touch of rain. My fingers dug into the soft earth, dirt pushing under my fingernails, and still it was not enough. Being here, where her body lay, did nothing to bring me closer to her soul.

I was screaming then, shrieking as loud as my lungs would allow.

“Mom!” I tried again, running the back of my damp hand against my runny nose. “Why’d you have to go? I don’t understand. You meant so much to us. We need you! Dad isn’t Dad anymore. He’s a zombie around me. Amelia’s screwing up her life. She was lucky with Mitch. He stuck around even though she is so selfish. But she didn’t, Mom. She left, a few weeks ago. And she only called once. But I hung up on her.”

My mind flashed back to that moment, nearly a week ago. I was watching Elvira as usual; we were playing with some tinker toys. Elvira stood huddled on the ground, her knees bent and rump in the air. I was smiling at her, admiring my beautiful little niece when the phone rang, and Elvira fell down startled. She blinked twice before starting to mewl, obviously upset.

“It’s okay honey,” I told her, running a hand over her head before stretching my body to impossible lengths to reach the cordless phone a few feet away.

“Hello?” I asked.

There was some static, but I heard it, the faint, “Melaney?”

“Yes, who is this?” I asked, my heart pounding with suspicion.

“It’s Amelia.”

“Amelia?” I repeated, my voice high-pitched.

“Yes. Amelia. Look, I need you to help me out…” she started, but I hung up right then. She tried to call back a few times, but never left a message on the machine. When my father returned that night, we had our share of “prank” calls, but I knew who it was. Apparently I was the only one she wanted to talk to. After that day though, she never phoned again. Maybe she wasn’t so stupid as to not get the message—I would never help such a selfish bitch.

I was pulled back to my current moment, my clothes completely soaked and sticking to my skin, making it crawl with that disgusting feeling. I pulled the front of my shirt away from me, trying to calm myself down.

“She hasn’t called today. Not even though it’s the anniversary of your death. She’s so cruel. I can’t believe she left her family. She doesn’t even know how lucky she is to have these people in her life. I don’t even want to know what she left them for.”

My fingers ran across the stone; it’s texture reminding me of the rough feel of gravel, cutting into my skin one time when I fell chasing Lucas. He picked me up and helped me home, as blood pooled in my cuts. My mother had bandaged my wounds so gently, her face all warm smiles and compassionate eyes.

My forehead wrinkled, and I recoiled my hand from the stone.

“I didn’t bring you flowers. I remembered, how you told me that you never wanted anyone to bring flowers to you because you thought it was so silly to waste life on death. But I needed to bring you something. So I have this picture of Lucas and me, at the park. I know it’ll get ruined out here, but… but it… Well, it’s yours. Okay?”

I gently propped the picture against the gravestone, and stood up, My jeans were stained green where I rested. They hung heavy on my hips, weighted, like me, by the world.

“I don’t know who I am,” I admitted suddenly. Not even speaking to my mother, but to the entire silent assembly of bodies below me. “I don’t know who I am,” I repeated slowly.

“Who am I?” I asked, twirling around in desperation. I felt as if one of these headstones would answer.

“I’m my mother’s daughter, and my father’s. I am a sister, and an aunt. I’m a best friend. I’ve loved hopelessly; I’ve cried my share for a lifetime. I’m really good at history. I love dark chocolate. My hair,” I grasped at the braids. “I never know what to do with this mane!”

But this isn’t anything. It’s just bits and pieces of me, this lost girl.”

I peered towards my mother’s grave again. “Mom, I don’t know who I am without you, or without Lucas. I’ve built myself up around you guys, but I can’t be reliant upon you or Lucas. It isn’t fair to anyone. I don’t want to be this girl made of wounds that I can’t help but pick at, until they’re raw again. I want to heal,” I gasped out.

I heard the faint sounds of slamming car doors in the distance. My private performance was over. Reaching a hand into my pocket, I pulled out the car keys, fiddling with them as I turned around. My shoulders jerked in shock because it was Lora, here I suppose to visit a friend whom she had been first to leave. My mother’s departure was just more permanent. Entirely permanent.

It was not seeing Lora that really startled me, however. The shocking part was the fact that beside her stood Lucas, stoic in a heavy coat and emotionless face. They were here. They were together.

A wave of jealousy washed over me, as I saw mother and son there, because despite the coldness between them, they were both alive. I wondered at what sort of begging and bargaining Lora had to do in order to have her son with her today. Protected by a large black umbrella, they began heading my way. Lora held a bouquet of flowers. If she had stuck around, she would’ve known my mother wanted none of that. My temper sparked momentarily.

“We don’t mean to intrude,” Lora began softly, with sorrowful eyes pinned on my face and dilapidated state.

“Whatever,” I mumbled back. “I can talk to her whenever. It’s not like anything’s going to change. You know, she’s dead.”

Lora wrinkled her eyebrow, and took my verbal lashing without a word back. Lucas wasn’t looking at me at all, but rather entertaining himself with the many gravestones around.

“Funny how they summarize all these people’s lives with a tagline,” I said to him, pretending like that argument we had a few days ago never occurred.

He didn’t respond, only puckered his bottom lip in a disapproving frown.

“Well…” Lora began, but was cut off by her son.

“But we know the whole story behind Carissa… your mother. The people who care know the whole story about their loved ones. That’s what matters, right?”

I nodded quickly, and ran off, not wanting them to see the new tears forming. It wasn’t the fact that people knew her story that tore me apart. It was that there would be no more story for her, nothing more to add.

I jerked on my seatbelt and split out of there, tires squealing and sliding a bit on the wet pavement.

I wondered at why Lucas’s words were so painful to me when they were not harsh or cruel. Even their honesty shouldn’t have been enough to make me cry. As I parked the car in my driveway and hurried through the rain, I realized that what bothered me about his comment was the fact that my mother’s own family was acting like they didn’t know her story. My sister and father were denying the loving memory of my mother with the way they carried on.

Already emotionally unstable, my anger skyrocketed. I stormed inside the house and immediately screamed, “Dad!”

Stomping into the family room, I saw him sitting on the couch reading, as if it were an ordinary day. He looked sternly up at me and snapped, “Be quiet. Elvira is napping.”

“I don’t care! I don’t!” I yelled at him, throwing my hands up.

“What is the matter with you?” he asked, his face scrunching up in irritation.

“You know what today’s date is?” I asked him bitterly. “Mom died on this day.”

His shoulders stiffened and he turned his head away. His lack of reaction urged me on, “How can you act like this? So indifferent. Today is the anniversary of your wife’s death, and your reading the stupid paper? What’s wrong with you?!”

At this my father stood up, his form showing more power than it had in a long time. His anger was better than his indifference, but it didn’t show he cared. “Don’t you speak to me like that, young lady. Show some respect!”

I scoffed at him. “Respect? You?”

“I’m your father…” he began.

“No you’re not! You’re not my father because fathers love their daughters. They talk to them and care about their well-being. You act like I’m some kind of nuisance that you’ve been left with since mom died.”

He stared hard over my shoulder as I started to beg him.

“Dad,” I began by grasping for his hand. He pulled it away as if I scalded him. “Dad, why can’t you love me? I’m your baby girl…”

“Stop this,” he ordered me. “Stop behaving so childishly.”

“I don’t understand,” I continued, undeterred. “Why don’t you love me? Is it because I look like mom? Do I remind you too much of her?”

He glanced at me then, and for a moment his gaze softened. Only for a moment though.

“Well it’s not my fault!” I stamped my foot in frustration. “I can’t help how I look, or that Mom died. I can’t help that Amelia ran away and left…”

“Don’t you bring Amelia into this. Stop trying to blame others…”

“You stop blaming others!” I defended. “I didn’t kill Mom!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Dad…” I started pleading again. I just wanted a glimpse of the father who would put me on his shoulders and race around the backyard again. That happy man—my father.

“This conversation is over. I won’t discuss these matters with you when you’re acting so irrationally.”

“I just need an explanation,” I tried.

“Conversation. Over.” He started to walk away.

“I love you,” I called after, though it took everything inside of me not to call him an asshole and scream horrible things at him. He deserved it, but he was my father, and I wouldn’t be that kind of person.

He ignored me, walking towards the room where the faint cries of Elvira could be heard.

“Woke the baby,” I muttered to myself. “Just another thing he can blame me for.”

It was too much to be in this house, suffocating beneath the oppressive walls. Not bothering to change into dry clothing, I flew outside, feet pounding steadily on the sidewalk. The rain had slowed down, so it now felt like someone was spitting repetitively on my face. I kept running though, even when my lungs burned and my muscles threatened to give out. I ran until that familiar black truck came into view, along with an even more familiar house.

Up the steps, I was pounding desperately at the door. “Lucas!” I cried out. “Lucas!” I prayed that he was home. Please God, let him be home.

The door flew open and my banging fist nearly hit Lucas in the chest.

“Melaney, what’s the matter?” he asked, his voice short and panicked.

I threw my arms around his neck, ignoring my drenched state. “Lucas,” I whimpered.

His arms encircled my waist, pulling me closer to him.

I was home.

---

“I guess you do have it worse than me,” Lucas was telling me an hour or so later as we sat on wet swings in our park. We slipped from his house to avoid the curious glances and prodding questions of his family.

I had just told him about my argument with my father, and Lucas’s response left me confused.

“I don’t understand,” I said, dragging my nice shoes through the mud as my swing swayed back and forth.

“It’s just that, I lost my mom when she left my family, but your mom died, and your father left you too—emotionally.”

I peered at him for a moment and responded, “It’s not some competition Lucas. I don’t have it ‘worse’ than you. Just different.”

He nodded at me, standing up. I admired the wet spot pooled on his bottom from the swing, although I must admit I admired his bottom a tad more.

“Looks like you wet your pants,” I giggled at him, though we both knew I had a very similar wet spot on my pants too.

“Har-dee-har-har,” he responded sarcastically. “If I recall correctly, you’re no better off than I am.”

My smile faltered a bit, his comment about me being worse off rubbing deeply into my skin, but I did my best to stay in the present moment, with us joking like friends.

“I suppose not,” I said snottily, my nose raised high as I could make it.

“Let me see.” He pulled on my arm, but I planted my feet firmly into the mucky ground and held onto the chains tightly.

“Never,” I whispered fiercely.

Lucas let go of my hand and I nearly plopped right out of the swing onto that disgusting, wet, earthworm infested earth, but my death grip saved me. Barely. Changing tactics, Lucas wrapped his arms around me waist, and butterflies erupted in my stomach, flittering their way up my esophagus and making me squeak in a most unattractive way.

“Lucas let go!” I was finally able to scream.

“No!” he cried back. “I want to see that you’re just like me.”

I was no match for his strength, and the idea of falling onto the ground was entirely unappealing to me so I gave up, letting go. Lucas pulled me too him, picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder. This gave him a wonderfully close view of my backside.

“Ha! You peed your pants too,” he started laughing and smacked my butt with a free hand.

“Lucas!” I yowled back.

He didn’t stop laughing as he ran with me. To where, I had no idea.

“Lucas this is really uncomfortable,” my voice bounced in motion with his own great strides.

“Okay,” he responded, letting me slip a little bit.

“No!” I yelped, clawing at his back to prevent my fall.

“Ohhh…” he drawled out. “Now you want me to hold you.”

“You certainly can hold me,” I explained. “But this Neanderthal, woman-over-the-shoulder-have-my-way-with-her is not what I had in mind.”

I heard the laughter in his voice as he spoke deeply, and it made me shiver with delight. “And what did you have in mind Melliebell?”

“I don’t know,” I was quick to respond.

“Sure you do,” he insisted. Sliding me down his shoulder and safely to the ground, he took my hands in his and wrapped them around his neck. Then, he placed his hands on the small of my back, and leaned close to my ear. “How’s this?”

My eyes widened and I leaned my head onto his chest, unwilling to let this moment go. Could it be possible that Lucas was offering me another chance?

“Comfortable, I mean… perfect.”

He pulled slightly away from me, and I feared I said something he wasn’t looking for. The soft, caressing look on his face told me otherwise. He gazed in my eyes only a second, before dropping towards me mouth. My heart picked up its pace. Without thinking, I slipped one of my hands from his neck towards his chest, through his open jacket and over his heart. The tips of my fingers picked up on the quick speed of his heart, and I smiled at him.

He dipped his head then, coming within inches of my face. I leaned away just a bit, feeling too nervous about this. I saw the confusion in his eyes, or maybe it was hurt. I couldn’t tell because it all happened so fast. One moment I was sure I couldn’t do this, and then next I was pressing my slightly chapped lips over his and weighing my body into him. I felt his fingers grip on my back.

It wasn’t fireworks, or even that passionate. Rather, kissing Lucas was like a weight off my shoulders. Such a relief.

When we pulled apart, I surprised myself with looking right into his eyes. They seemed a bit shocked, but unmistakably happy. He touched the loose curls around my temples for a moment, as if saying a word would be too much for either one of us.

I decided that I wanted to kiss him again so I jumped on him. He grabbed my thighs as I wrapped my legs around his waist. Without the height disparities it was easier to access that kissable face of his. Tightly, my arms curled around his neck. I attacked his mouth, and grinned at the way his grip on my legs tightened. He took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside my mouth. I pressed against him more, as much as I could until it hurt.

“Mom!” I heard a loud call. “What are they doing?”

That caught my attention, and I jerked back, squirming to be let down. As I turned around, I saw a mother pushing a stroller and toting a small child along give us a highly disapproving glance. Lucas grabbed my hand, and I read his mind, immediately dashing to his house as fast as I could follow him.

“We can’t help but piss any adult who goes to that park with their kids,” I managed to gasp out.

Lucas grinned at me, pulling me towards him and giving me another quick kiss. “Definitely worth it.”

He tugged me inside his house where his stepmother greeted us with worried looks. “You kids are going to get pneumonia if you aren’t careful. My goodness Melaney. Look how wet you are!”

As Lucas climbed the stairs to go change, Shirley led me towards her bedroom to offer me some dry clothes. “Thank you so much,” I said to her.

“Oh sure darling. I don’t know why you two insisted on going outside in this weather.”

“It wasn’t raining anymore when we went out,” I started to explain.

She turned curiously towards me.

“I walked over here,” I said further. “It was raining then. That’s why I’m soaking wet.”

I could feel her wanting to ask more, such as why I walked over here in the first place, so I interceded her. “I should probably go change, huh?”

Darting into her bathroom, I began peeling off the layers of my wet clothes. My flesh goose-pimpled as the air brushed against my bare skin. Tugging out my drenched braids, I did my very best to pull my hair into a messy bun at the top of my head.

I handed my clothes over to Shirley when I emerged and quickly bounded the steps towards Lucas’s room. Knocking softly, I heard his soft response to enter.

“Hey,” I said, suddenly shy.

He’d put on a light gray, long-sleeved shirt and some exercise pants. No matter what he wore, he looked so wonderful to me.

“She found something for you to wear then?” he said, filling the silence with useless talk.

“Yeah. What do you think?” I asked, doing a mock twirl.

“Lovely,” he said.

Blushing, I mumbled thanks, before sitting on his bed. The cold from outside had seeped into my bones, and I shivered a bit.

“Are you still cold?”

I shook my head affirmative, and he sat beside me, wrapping his arms about my shoulders. “Better?”

“Yeah,” I told him, keeping my eyes pointed at the ground.

I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck before he started to lay small kisses there. I twisted myself in his arms so that we faced each other, and began kissing his face eagerly. He reciprocated with equal force. I figured somehow that we kept kissing each other to avoid the delicate question of where we stood. We needed to get something out of each other before we risked tearing it all apart again with our miscommunication and terribly wrong assumptions.

I opened my eyes for a moment, and noticed a picture on his nightstand that had not been there the last time I visited his room. It was a picture of us as kids, each of us grinning widely on our mothers’ laps.

“When did you put that picture out?” I asked against his mouth.

He twisted his body to see, nearly knocking me off the bed.

“A few weeks ago, I guess. I found it while Lilia was looking through the photo albums.”

“Huh,” I said back, not really having a response.

“Hey Mel?”

“What?” I asked, sitting up and looking in those gorgeous blue eyes of his.

“You remember that day, a long time ago when you asked me how long eternity was?”

I pondered for a moment, and nodded my head yes. “What about it?”

“Do you still believe it? That eternity is forever.”

I rolled my eyes at him jokingly. “Eternity is forever Lucas. Whether or not I want to believe it. Why are you being so cryptic?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged noncommittally. I figured he was too embarrassed to ask me what he really wanted to.

“Ask me. I won’t laugh at you,” I commanded.

“Do you still think that we’ll be friends for eternity?”

I really did want to laugh when he asked me that because, frankly, it was so stupid. Who could tell how long we’d be friends, and furthermore, neither one of us would be around for an eternity. He’d been scared to ask me though, confidant I’d make fun of him, so instead of laughing, I said. “Naw, just a really time.”

He grinned in response. “You can laugh now,” he offered.

But I didn’t want to laugh anymore; I wanted to kiss him.

There were no more questions for a while.

---

A/N: Could this be? Have I updated in under a three-month period? Where is the confetti? Where are the balloons?

Anyways, Yay? Together? Finally? One more chapter and an epilogue to go. I could draw this story out more, but frankly I don’t want to. I just want to finish this thing so that I can start researching and developing my other story ideas. Don’t get excited though. Once this baby is finished, you likely won’t be hearing from me (story wise) for quite some time. Just being honest, ya know? Anyways, I have no idea when I’ll get the next chapter up because I’m starting school soon, so I hope ya’ll enjoyed this!