Prologue: Steadily Chugging On By

I sigh silently to myself as the sun passes over me, driving in my 1989, classy, Delta 88 Oldsmobile. It is home in here, especially with the sun shining in. With the wheel in between my fingers, and the pedal under my foot I feel like I'm traveling to where I'll finally be what some people call happy. For me, at least in this moment, that could never exist, but it's still nice to dream about it.

Car by car I drive on ward, knowing that I'm going to pass his street, his house. My heart jumps a beat and then quickens as my heart knows it's coming, but my mind tries to ignore it. I can feel the tears swelling, but I do not want them to break. So, driving on by, my foot crushes the pedal into the floor, hoping to escape that street, that memory, that first love.

How did I get here? I keep driving past the local high school, wondering what it would have been like now if he wasn't gone. I sigh to myself, grip the steering wheel, and slow the car down to a steady thirty-five miles per hour. It's a gentle ride, and a gentle hum of the engine rolling, turning, and still surviving. It seems like both my Oldsmobile and I have been through a torrent of emotions that we have survived, and now we're both chugging on. The sun reflects off of the black shine of the hood, and I smile for once; for once in a terrible two weeks.

I roll down my window and feel the wind whip in through my hair, and the smell of freshly cut grass fills me. Having no air conditioner the windows are my only hope for survival out here in this dreadful heat. Somehow I'm still surviving even after all the pain and torment, and some how my heart beats on. I'm still here in my Oldsmobile…the only place where I can cry alone and not feel ashamed. These past two weeks have been like hell born on earth, and I believe my Oldsmobile can even feel that. Valentines Day just passed by only six days ago, or one hundred and twenty hours ago, and I hated every moment of that day. I never thought I would be in so much pain. In fact it was only a month earlier that I believed everything would be perfect. Only a month ago, I think. A smile hints on the side of my mouth as I realize how foolish I was, and then a tear comes out. Gently I wipe it away with the sleeve of my shirt.

Then I think…couldn't I just end it right now? Suddenly even a light pole looks tempting to run in to….the thought frightens me. I look away from the pole and drive by it with a small urge to turn back, as if I just passed by my relief. The sun still peeks in. I look into my side mirror and see the side of my car as well as the only car behind me. I keep driving…it's all I can do. A deep swelling erupts in my chest and I say out loud to my car…he left me. The cold realization even a week later is a cruel pang onto my heart, but why am I still here?

It was a month ago Wednesday. I had known him and worked with him for four months. Steadily and happily working with him before any of this happened. I tried to ignore my feelings for him only because he was nineteen and I was sixteen. Not only was there the age difference, but some one else he loved. All my friends knew I had feelings for him, but I wanted him to have the girl of his dreams, Keri.

"You're obsessed!" they called toward me, and I only laughed, knowing fully that I was, but refusing to admit it. I couldn't have feelings for him, because he wanted Keri, another employee at the skating rink, where we all worked. But….here's my story….