WARMTH

prologue

When I fell in love, things did not fall in to place like I was told they would. Things were so hard that I kept thinking that he might be the wrong one. But I could feel my heart pounding when he touched me. I couldn't help but feel hopeless when he left for the night, even though I knew he would be back in the morning. My brain became mush when I heard him say my name. I was head over heels, and I knew that he was my everything.
We met each other in middle school. He was the bad boy. Most kids did't like him, and he was usually pummeled to the ground because of his differences with all of the kids. I was the one to defend him because of this injustice. I punched Abraham Jenkins right in the nose. There was blood everywhere. We were all sent to the office.
Our mothers were old high school friends. When they saw each other again in that office, you should have heard the screams. They were almost in tears. They exchanged e-mails and almost immediately became inseparable, which meant we had to become quick friends.
He wasn't happy being forced to be friends with a girl, nevertheless a girl who had a pale pink bedroom and a stuffed unicorn on her bed. But at the same time I was his only friend. No one else was there when he wanted to show someone his newest rock album or his favorite bloody video game. He was happy that I was there for that.
We became closer friends, and eventually I followed his lead and got rid of the pale pink walls and the unicorn was replaced with more pillows. I became acquainted with the color black and old worn-out band tees.
I grew up with him by my side. We did everything together. As we transitioned into high school we became each other's defense system. If someone talked shit about one of us, the other would be there to make sure that person didn't do it again.
And then he was off to college, leaving me behind for two years. I knew he would be back to see me, but I didn't get anything from him for one year out of the two. I was scared that he had grown into someone that I wouldn't know. I wasn't sure if he even wanted to see me anymore. If I asked his mother what he was up to, she never gave me a straight answer. She didn't know where he was either.
Things got worse. My father, fed up with my mother's drinking problems left and found another woman. My mother coped with this by filling the empty cupboards with liquor instead of food. I coped with it by stealing money from my mother and going out late at night to buy cigarettes and vodka.
I ached for him. The constant that had always been there for me no longer was and I was out in the world alone, left to fend for myself.
I missed him. I called him every now and then to tell him what was happening in my world. I never got a reply.
I remember trying to wake my mother from one of her drunk stupors when I heard a car pull in to the driveway and the steps on the stairs leading to the front door. I opened it to see the warm smile and kind eyes that I had missed so much. His arms now patterned with black art and he had stubble on his chin.
"Hazele," he whispered, almost to himself. I could feel the lump in my throat becoming bigger and bigger. I fell into his arms when he reached for me. His smell had changed. Cigarette smoke laced with the came undeniable scent that he carried everywhere.
We caught up quickly after that. He explained where he had been - not college - and what he had been doing. He had started a band with a few other guys, and they were doing okay. They were making a good enough living. He told me how much fun he had been having with the guys and how much fun I would have if I joined him after my senior year was over. I told him I would love to join him as long as he kept in touch, which he promised me, along with profusely apologizing for leaving me.
Before he left, he kissed my forehead, told me he loved me, and squeezed my hand.
"You can get through this, Hazele," he said as he walked to his car. And I believed him.
I worked my ass off at school that last year. I didn't get any more friends and my mom's drinking problem didn't secede, but things got better when I knew he was there for me again.
He called me every night that he didn't have a show to play and made sure to tell me he loved me every single night. The ache for him became even stronger, even though I had contact with him.
I met the guys over the phone, and I became great friends with them. I didn't feel for them as much as I felt for him, though.
Almost immediately after my graduation, he drove me two hours away to his small apartment that he shared with the boys.
He held my hand on the car ride there.