The Phoenix ~Louis Tomlinson

Chapter 10

"This is going to hurt. I can already tell." Anna poked her sunburn and winced.

"And why didn't you use sun screen, young lady?" I asked playfully.

"So about what happened yesterday. What now?" She asked, smearing aloe across her face and getting straight to the point.

I sighed, "I honestly can't say for sure. I forgive him for the fire. But as far as what we are and where we stand? That's where I'm confused."

"What is there to be confused about, Valerie?" I could see her brows furrow in the firelight as she gave me a hard look. "You have feelings for each other. That's that."

I leaned back in the lounge chair and looked up at the ink black sky, unsure of where my inner conflict was stemming from. Until it came to me.

"Say we become something more than friends. At the end of the summer, I go back to our home and he goes back to his home. That's that." I reply, crossing my arms and throwing her own phrase back to her.

"Why can't you accept it for what it is and enjoy the moment? You are too smart for your own good, you're always calculating the next move and trying to predict what will happen and you're so caught up in the future that you are completely incapable of just enjoying life!" Anna let the words float in the cool night air, and I allowed the notion to sink into my thoughts.

After a few moments of silence, she continued. "I'm sorry, Valerie. I love you, and I just want to see you exchange your worry for happiness just this once. That's all."

"You have no reason to be sorry, Anna. You're right. I overthink too many things in my life, and I forget how to enjoy the present. I love you and your brutal honesty." I felt a smile creep across my face and realized just how lucky I was to have her. Even if she was capable of being the typical annoying little sister from time to time.

"Is his hair as soft as it looks?" She asked, half joking.

"Softer," I smiled.

"When will you see him again?" I could see her face light up with anticipation, she was so eager for things to work out between us.

"We're going on a berry hunt tomorrow," I replied with a smile.
"Did he call it a berry hunt?" Anna laughed.

"He sure did! His mom wants to make fresh cobbler, so we figured we'd help her out." I replied laughingly.

We both fell silent and stared up at the night sky as the fire died down. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was natural. Anna and I shared moments like this often, and we knew that we didn't always have to speak to understand each other.

She had grown up so much during our parents' divorce, she had been forced to. While I was away at college focusing on my studies, she was trudging through the emotional trenches formed between our parents. Day in and day out, she had to watch as our primary example of a relationship slowly crumbled. It was a wonder that she still believed in love, at all. But she had always had a resilient character, she had always been the strong, hopeful one. And as I let my mind wander back to our conversations during the divorce, one particular conversation stood out against the rest.

It was the first year I wouldn't be home for Thanksgiving, and I was on the phone with Anna. She had been upset about something concerning our parents no longer acting civil towards each other. She had commented on how they couldn't even look at each other or be in the same room together without arguing over something trivial.

"Valerie, promise me something." Anna had said.

"What is it?" I asked, finally relaxing after my first Black Friday shift in retail.

"We cannot let them change how we see love. Look at grandma and grandpa, they're happy together! They made it! We can do the same. I just wish that mom and dad hadn't spent so much time being unhappy, together." I could hear Anna sigh on the line.

"We'll find the love we deserve." I assured her.

I was brought back to the present abruptly as Anna began to speak, again.

"We'll find the love we deserve." She whispered into the darkness.

It came as no surprise to me that she had also recalled the same hopeful memory that we shared. I smiled.