Love's a choice

The past is like a drive-in movie or at least that's what I've been told

"It's a strange yet normal thing to notice, but Jorja brought a male friend to the welcome back party," I mention to Dad as we watch 'Suits' on TV. From the corner of my eye, I see his expression change.

"I didn't notice," he replies, but I can tell he's not being truthful.

"Don't lie," I insist, turning to face him, and he huffs before meeting my gaze.

"It's disrespectful to call your parent a liar," he retorts, arms crossed, and I look at him in disbelief.

"But you are lying," I counter, and he shakes his head, which only irritates me more.

"Why are you acting so strange about this? I'm just asking," I say, glancing down at my fingers as he lets out a sigh.

"I was hoping you hadn't seen him, but I should have known better," he says, and I furrow my brows.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, looking up at him.

"I saw what that boy did to you when you were younger, Claire. It was really bad," he says, and I bite my lip, feeling a sting in my chest.

"He didn't do anything to me; we weren't anything. I just had a crush on him," I say, and my dad gives me a skeptical look..

"I saw the effect that crushing on him had on you, the highs and lows. One moment you were ecstatic, the next, utterly downcast. You'd weep for hours whenever he dated someone else. Getting you into an all-girls high school made me hopeful; it would distance you from him, hoping your feelings would vanish or decrease in some way. And they did, for a while, but I knew you never truly forgot him," he tells me, and I remain silent.

"You weren't really interested in anyone else, and even when you tried, your thoughts always returned to him. It's as if he has some kind of hold on you," he says.

"I've tried dating, but I didn't want to get distracted," I tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

"Claire, that boy still has your heart after all these years. I hope you can reclaim it without getting hurt," he says as tears well up in my eyes.

"I didn't choose to like him when I was a child, but now that I'm older, I'm choosing not to," I reply, my voice breaking.

"I know, sweetie," he responds gently.

"He wants to catch up," I add.

"And what do you want?" he asks, and I simply shrug.

"I haven't thought about him in a very long time, and my feelings have changed, but I'd like to know how he's doing and what he's been up to, just out of curiosity, you know?" I tell him, and he nods in understanding.

"Do whatever feels right, just be careful. Just because you liked him as a kid doesn't mean you can't like anyone else now," he advises, and I can't help but smile.

"I've liked plenty of people, old man. Your daughter is a player in the streets," I boast, puffing out my chest, and he tosses some popcorn at me, prompting laughter from us both.

"Yeah, right," he retorts, and we return to watching the movie. Forty-five minutes later, he has dozed off, and I need to stretch my legs. I wake up, rubbing my thighs—it's been two days since he said he'd text me, and he hasn't. A familiar feeling of disappointment washes over me, and I smile at my own silliness. I head to my room to charge my phone.

"Damn it," I mutter, kicking the edge of my bed and now hopping around, glaring at it. A black shoebox peeks out from underneath. Without thinking, I grab it and place it on my bed. Opening it, I sift through the letters and small trinkets, recognizing a few. I sit cross-legged on my bed and start rummaging through the box. I pull out some magazine clippings of my favorite artist from back in the day, a few charms, and pictures of Cassidy and me. She was my best friend then. I think about her occasionally; she's a mother now. Life has a way of mellowing people out, I suppose. My fingers trace over the letters, my heart heavy with the knowledge of their contents. I take the one on top and unfold it.

Liking someone is not inherently wrong, but it feels unjust when they disregard your feelings. Today was one of my worst days. Azaad confessed to Zaid that he liked Cassidy, not me. When she told me, I laughed and walked away, but I broke down in tears as soon as I reached the toilet. How could the boy I love like my best friend? Is she better than me? More attractive? How can we be friends now? The pain in my chest is so overwhelming, it feels like I could die. She doesn't even like him or understand him. I want him to express his affection for me, but that won't happen. I don't want to feel this way anymore but every time I try moving on he does something that makes me like him more. He smiles at me differently than he does at others. When he smiles at me, his eyes close, and his teeth show, but when he smiles at others, his eyes remain open, and his teeth are hidden. We argue daily, and I always notice him smiling to himself after I have the last word. Sometimes, I think he might like me back, but seeing him walk hand in hand with another girl, I realize he doesn't. When Zain jokingly said that Azaad and I are like a married couple, he seemed offended and said that it would only happen in my dreams, leaving me speechless.

I hate this feeling; I wish the love I have for him would vanish, or that my memory would fade, but I understand that my heart would retain his imprint. Regardless of my whereabouts, my heart will forever recognize that it belongs to Azaad Leevy.

Once I'm done reading the letter I can't help the tears rolling down my face and even now as an adult reading this and remembering it breaks my heart.