We Are Infinite

f o r t y - t h r e e

k a d e  /  f o r t y - f i v e

I stay home from school on Friday. I tell Mom that I'm not feeling too well, and it technically isn't a lie. It's just not in the way that she thinks.

To get my mind off other things, I call Coach Hudson. I let him know about my decision to leave the soccer team. There's a silence on the other end of the line for a minute or so, and then Coach sighs. And says the thing I least expect him to say.

"I get it, Ryder. I really do. There's no way that I can convince you to stay, is there?"

I shake my head, knowing that I'm doing the right thing. "No. I'm sorry, Coach."

There's another silence, and then Coach Hudson lets out a deep breath. "I think I knew this was coming."

"What?"

"That you were going to leave. I could see that you were playing with passion, but it was because you wanted to win, and then leave. I just thought maybe history wouldn't repeat itself, that maybe I was just seeing things that way because I . . . "

"What do you mean? History repeating itself?" I ask, knowing that there's something beneath the surface. Like there always is.

"Look, Ryder. Look at me, loved soccer. Loved playing soccer. In my day, I was the equivalent of you. I was the soccer star. But could I keep playing it because I loved it? Could I make it into a career? No."

I don't know what to say. Coach Hudson? Who would've guessed? Also, he'd just put a lot of the things I'd been contemplating about into words.

"Sometimes, things we love doing can only stay a hobby, and nothing more."

"Sometimes other people ruin them for us." I say, and without missing a beat, Coach replies.

"Sometimes they were meant to. Sometimes it's for the best."

I think about his words for the rest of the afternoon.

. . .

Thick, dark clouds accumulate outside, high in the sky, and I wonder if it's going to rain. I wonder if the sky's going to cry tonight; whether the universe is going to feel the loss of us. Of Mia and I. The universe; she fought for us so many times, and I guess we let her down every damn time. Tonight is just the main stage, the biggest slap in her face of all.

I'm scrolling through my phone, torturing myself by reading mine and Mia's conversations, first on Instagram, and then on WhatsApp. The way we started; it was like nothing else. It was different, and I used to think it was because our love was different. Now I realize that it wasn't really love at all.

And then it's raining, and I'm thinking back to the abandoned roof of the library, back to the conversations in the car, in the café. And it's raining, and it's like the sky is trying to pour the truth into me. As if the universe is trying to tell me something.

I'm thinking about the vulnerability in Mia's voice, the expression across her breathtaking features, the person I am when I'm with her.

It was love. It still is. It's rare, and I know she thinks it is too. And even if she doesn't, hell, even if she's dancing with Kade Lawson right now, I can't stay here and be okay wth it. I can't.

We deserve more, even if it's a goodbye. I grab my leather jacket from my closet, throwing it over my long sleeved black tee. Five minutes later and I'm in the Mustang, on my way to Greytown's prom venue.

Rain pours onto the windshield of my car, and I run my fingers through my hair once again.
Here goes everything, and nothing, simultaneously.

. . .

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look at my boy, all grown up. proud mom moment lmao