The Secrets to New York

Nineteen | A Fools Dance

I guess I didn’t realize something when I accepted your mom’s invitation to thanksgiving.

                                                You’d be there.

The wind was blowing extra cold that day; the first signs of winter approaching us quickly. The dinner your mom was starting to prepare smelled wonderful as I stepped into the house. I jumped at the chance to help her (I never got to cook dinner with my own mom, so I figured why not take every opportunity I got with yours?) She put the Christmas music on loud through the old stereo that she still had sitting in the living room. We were dancing around the kitchen as we cooked, singing our lungs out. I think it was the first time either of us actually laughed in a long time.

We were dancing to the “jingle bell rock” when you came through the door.

I could hear your laughter from the living room at your mother’s singing.

You stopped in the kitchen door, a wide smile was slowly fading off of your face. I guess the realization had hit you. Your mom wasn’t alone and the only person that you didn’t want to see in the world was the one who was with her. My heart sank slightly, knowing that I couldn’t run into your arms. That was all I really wanted to do.

Three years had done you well (the travel must not have hurt either); your skin was holding a golden tan and your muscles were now showing through your shirt. I was happy to see that your hair was as disheveled as ever. That was the Beckett I had come to know and love.

I smiled shyly and whispered a quiet hey.

You just shook your head, a faint smile on your lips as you said Emery Davis it’s good to see you.