We walk along the road, hand in hand, going to the movie theatre. My violin is in my hand, because I’d just come from practice. I loved to play the violin. And he loved to watch me.
“Okay, so what movie this time?” He asked me.
“How about Iron Man 3?”
I loved to hear the whispers in the school about how we were always happy. Always happy to be together, and always happy to know that in a little time, we’d see each other again when we were apart.
The movie theatre was along this way, so we walked parallel to the road.
“You know some of that was filmed in that RTP place in North Carolina, right?” He asks me. I nod.
“Yeah, a friend of mine who goes to school there told me about that. That’s really cool!”
“The school used to be a strip mall.”
“Funny how we know all this information about North Carolina, when we live in South Carolina,” I say.
“True- true. So… how ‘bout that Myrtle Beach?” We laugh. Myrtle Beach was one of the best attractions of South Carolina. In fact, it’s a beach. Gasp! It has a wonderful hotel near it that’s called Sand Dunes, and it’s really pretty. It looks like an apartment.
“That Myrtle Beach is nice,” I respond. People find it weird the fact that I, a black girl, am going out with a Korean. But they’re cute, yes? And I knew him since pre-school since he FINALLY asked me out.
“It is though. It’s all nice looking and huge…” He grins at me, a wild white toothed one. We look both ways before crossing the street. The street is wide, and we take our time crossing it because there is no one out on the road.
Or so we thought.
Out of nowhere, I see headlights. The man is definitely drunk, and he’s coming at us at too fast a pace for me to do anything but stare at the fast approaching 18- wheeler.
He looks at me, then at the truck approaching us, and his eyes are wide.
He knows he’s going to die.
And that breaks my heart.
I would’ve left. I really would’ve, had my heel not gotten stuck in a crack in the road. I know what you’re thinking… just remove your shoe. That would be so useful if my shoe was able to open at the top. But no, it opened at the bottom; at precisely the part that was stuck in the crack.
Seriously?
He pushes me, pulls me, hoping to get me to safety.
“It’s no use!” I wail. He shakes his head, and throws all his weight onto me, knocking me out of the crack, and I fly onto the other side of the road.
I feel like I’m in some sort of melodramatic drama movie.
“NO!” I shouted. But it was no use. With the momentum thrown into me, he lay there on the road, attempting to clamber up from his spot in the middle of the road. It was a lost attempt.
The eighteen- wheeler wheels right over him, and I hear the thickening crunch of bones. I turn away, but catch the license.
The remains of my boyfriend lay in the middle of the road. And, it’s funny, I don’t feel sorry, or depressed…
I feel damn angry.
On the bright side:
I got the face.
