Puddle Jumping (15 page)

I’ll admit . . . it made me a little teary eyed, too.

After everyone left, the rain let up to almost nothing and I asked Colton if he wanted to take a walk.

Honestly, I just wanted some alone time with him on his birthday and I would take anything I could get. We set out down the street, hand in hand, walking the sidewalk in silence as the night turned darker. And it suddenly dawned on me what his birthday meant in terms of our relationship.

“We’re the same age, now.” I laughed and held his hand tighter.

“Did that bother you?” he asked, his head tilting in a really cute way.

I shook my head. “No. I just like we’re the same age right now.”

“Technically, you are still older than me by quite a few months . . .” he started and I cut him off with a playful squeeze to his shoulder.

“I don’t care about technicalities. We’re the same age. Don’t argue.”

It had gotten easier over time. He was still very literal and always would be, but if I stated my case well enough, he would find the humor. We walked to the edge of the woods and I leaned against an old tree that was huge, with thick leaves dripping rain all down on the top of my head. But watching Colton in the moonlight made any discomfort I had seem so insignificant, that, at some point, I just stopped paying attention to it all together.

I whispered into his ear I loved him and told him Happy Birthday, promising him the next one would be even better. And the one after that. I kissed him until I was sure the moon was jealous.

Then, all at once, the moonlight disappeared and the skies opened with a torrential downpour. Forget being upset about the raindrops from the tree leaves. I was a drowned rat, laughing hysterically as buckets and buckets fell from the sky.

And as lightning flashed overhead followed by thunder so loud it made the ground beneath my feet shake, I caught a glimpse of that child-like wonder on Colton’s face that he’d had all those years ago on the first day I went over to his house to pretend to babysit him.

This time he didn’t cover his ears. Instead he grabbed my hand and started to run, jumping over puddles as we raced back to his house.

I love that memory.

Maybe the most.

* * *

Summer was almost over and I was so focused, had tunnel vision so badly, I must not have been paying attention. To any of it. Because now when I look back on it, there were little clues, I think.

I think there were.

Mrs. Neely called and asked me to invite my family over for a cook-out at their house. It was short notice, which was unexpected. But she was really excited about it, encouraging me to bring our friends as well. It didn’t seem all out of the ordinary to invite them anymore. We just usually had more than a day’s notice.

Either way, I showed up with my parents in tow. I’d barely had enough time to set my things down in the coat closet before being accosted by Harper and pulled away into the far corner of the backyard where the old swing set once stood.

Between her talking my ear off, and Mrs. Neely rushing back and forth between the backyard and the house, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

I should have.

Contentment, you see . . . it causes blindness.

Later I would find out that Sheila let Colton make the decision to have all of us there for his big news. Unlike when he got the job at the museum and I found out through her, it had been arranged for her son to announce it himself. To everyone.

It was brand new. Less than twenty-four hours old.

The news that would rip a hole in my chest wide open and cause my entire life to fold in around me like a half-assed house of cards.

He looked so
pleased
. And why not? It was quite an accomplishment, really. I couldn’t argue. And he spoke directly to me when he said it out loud for the first time. Sheila gathered us around as she prompted Colton to speak. Her smile was so electric. She was proud. Beaming at how far he’d come. She stood by my side and squeezed my shoulders.

“He asked to tell everyone at once.”

His father stood off with my parents, practically bursting with joy. My mom and dad were probably as confused as I was. And even though I was standing in a crowd of people I trusted and loved, I had never felt more alone than in that moment.

Colton, so happy and proud; smiling wide and eyes downcast for a moment before lifting, simply said it as best as he could.

“I’ve been offered an internship in England through the museum.”

My heart died.

Fell right out of my chest and onto the bright green grass beneath my feet as I stared at him, muted by shock.

“I’ll be boarding a plane to leave the country on August thirteenth at nine p.m.” Another smile. Joyous applause and congratulations from the crowd of onlookers.

Except from me.

Except from me and my parents. Maybe Harper, too. I don’t quite remember because the haze was too thick. The memory, while not that old, is hard to pinpoint because it’s surreal, you know?

“The junior curator will accompany him. He’ll be well taken care of.” Sheila said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world and my heart wasn’t breaking right beside her.

I dropped my cup at my feet; sticky liquid hitting my exposed toes. And I think that’s when people started to get quiet.

“What about school?” My hands, they were shaking so badly, but I couldn’t make them stop. We’d talked about this. I wasn’t going far. We’d talked about transferring to the same college eventually. We’d talked about the future . . .

He looked at me with that expression that killed me on the inside. So honest. Pure. “I’ll be tutored abroad.”

It was then I lost all semblance of control, my head falling to my chest as I started to cry so hard I couldn’t see. “You’re leaving me?” Hands were on me. Comforting. My parents. Perhaps even Harper, but I wasn’t sure because I didn’t let it last too long.

Instead, I pushed by all of them, not even offering a final word to Colton as I ran through the backyard and into the house to escape out the front door.

I
knew then. It was all over. There would be no way to be with Colton if we weren’t actually together. The reality of how much our relationship depended on physical contact and constant close proximity crashed down on me like a ton of bricks as I stumbled down the driveway and onto the sidewalk. We had plans to go to school near each other so it wouldn’t be an issue. We’d made
plans
.

I needed the time to think. To clear my mind. I could hear the voices of our respective mothers calling out for me. I could hear my father’s voice above both of theirs. I knew the sound of the footsteps chasing after me were Harper’s.

But they weren’t the person I wanted to follow me across the street.

I wanted Colton.

And as of that moment, he was no longer mine. In just a few weeks’ time, he would be in another country. Thriving, doing what he wanted to do more than anything else in his life.

Maybe our relationship had given him that confidence. He was going to go intern and paint in England. He would live this incredible life his parents had always dreamed of for him. He was going to be okay with this change to his routine because it involved his passion. His first love.

And I would be no one.

Just a girl with half her heart missing.

On some level, it was selfish of me to have left. But I couldn’t see my actions beyond my tears. I walked until Harper pulled up in her car and demanded that I get in so that she could take me home. I packed my bags, left a note for my parents, and went to stay with her for the remainder of the weekend.

Harper raged. She hated Sheila. I should have been told aside from everyone else so I could properly respond. It was his mom’s fault. But I knew better. Sure, she could see me as a girl in a relationship, but when it came down to it, she was a proud mother. And I had no idea if I would have responded in any other way if told one-on-one.

It didn’t take the sting out of my reality, though.

I ended up sending Colton an email congratulating him on his opportunity. There was no way I could bring myself to talk with him. It was too painful to think he might have had a clue something was wrong, but not really . . . and the resulting conversations would be me lying the entire time to let him be happy-go-lucky about his future without me. I was selfish enough not to answer his because I couldn’t bear to see what he would say.

My parents attempted to talk to me, but for once, I asked just to be left alone. And I guess they weren’t used to that, so they did as I requested. There were a lot of phone calls involving yelling on my mother’s end. I had to assume it was Sheila she was talking so harshly to. But I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

I hadn’t gone into a relationship with Colton to become dependent. I hadn’t thought by integrating myself so thoroughly in his life, it would have resulted in me revolving my entire existence around him.

Such is first love, I suppose.

Everyone was worried. But I wasn’t. I didn’t care. If I could have faded into the walls, I would have.

A couple weeks before my birthday, my mom made me go see our family doctor. I didn’t fight, even though I knew nothing was physically wrong with me. I was about to turn nineteen and instead of celebrating with my boyfriend; I had a tongue depressor in my mouth. My doctor’s really cool and she ended up sitting down with me, asking what was going on. And when I described what had happened, in as little detail as possible, she looked sympathetic.

Not sympathetic enough to give me a Valium or anything . . .

When I pulled up to my house and saw Sheila Neely’s car outside, it made my insides nosedive straight through my floorboard.

It’s funny how many scenarios went through my mind. One where I marched into the house and demanded she make Colton stay. One where I just drove and drove and drove until I ran out of gas and had to find a job waiting tables somewhere, like a character in a Nicholas Sparks book. One where I rammed my car through the front door and aimed straight for her kneecaps.

I guess I had some pent up aggression toward her I hadn’t let myself acknowledge until that moment.

But it seemed as good a time as any to get it off my chest. With more courage than I thought I possessed, I opened the front door to my house and what I saw in the living room shocked the hell out of me.

Sheila . . . face to face with my parents . . . holding a wrapped gift that was almost as tall as she was.

There was only one thing it could have been. Judging by the tears on her face and expressions on my parents’, I knew Colton had painted me a gift.

And I knew he wasn’t doing well. At all.

“What’s going on?” I’d asked, suddenly hurting not just for me, but for the boy who had sent the gift.

“Colton wanted me to bring your gift over for your birthday. Since he will miss it.”

My eyes barely met hers while I stared at the festive paper. “Why isn’t he here to bring it?”

“He couldn’t . . .” Her voice cracked and I just knew . . . he understood. He got it. The limited contact with me was wearing on him just as much.

I wanted to
yell
at her. I wanted to tell her all of the heartache could have been avoided, if things had just been handled differently. But I was as much to blame as she was, because I allowed my own feelings of self-pity to override what I knew Colton needed of me. He needed me to be supportive. He needed me to say congratulations and . . . just . . .
shit
, ya know?

I nodded and stepped forward, noting how my parents shifted protectively as I did.

“Do you mind if I talk to Lilly alone?” Sheila was breaking my heart with how genuine she sounded. But I knew what she and I had to discuss shouldn’t have been overheard by my parents. I let them know it was fine and took a seat on the opposite couch, facing her as she settled back down, almost deflating right before my eyes.

“Do you not care about me?” It slipped out faster than I could stop it.

Her eyes got all big and she shook her head. “No. God, no. I can’t believe you would think . . .”

“Then why didn’t Colton tell me he was leaving? Or you, for that matter?”

Sheila held her breath for a moment before speaking. “In hind-sight, that is
exactly
what should have happened. We had no idea the internship even existed because . . . it didn’t until he started there. They developed it specifically for him, and so as not to give false hope and take it away if it didn’t pan out, they didn’t mention it until it was final. Clearly, I would have liked to have known about it earlier, but I can’t turn back the clock and do all of these things over again. I asked if he was going to tell you first. He was so proud, Lilly. He wanted it to be an announcement. He wanted you to be there along with everyone else. And you know once he has his mind set on something, it takes a crowbar to change it.” Her brow furrowed. “When you showed back up in our lives at that craft fair, I was worried it would upset him. But after just a few minutes with you, he was calmer. He seemed so, at least.”