The Chronicles of Us

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His voice
was like honey
and cinnamon.
I knew you couldn't
relate voices
to foods,
but that's
what his voice
sounded like.
He spoke
like a prayer,
hushed and soft,
and I listened
like a child.
Before I knew it,
I fell into
unconsciousness.
I woke
in the morning
to the sound
of my alarm.
The first thing
I thought of
was him.
Before my mom left for work
she told me,
"Lena, please don't make any trouble with that girl."
"Mom. I'm not even going to look at her."
"Okay, Lena. Have a good day. I'm trusting you."
When the bus
arrived,
I got on and looked for a seat.
Surprisingly,
Ariannah
didn't get suspended
from the bus,
so when she got on,
it was all
drama.
People were
making jokes
and laughing.
I tried my best
to ignore it,
so I turned
my iPhone up
to full blast.
First period
was easy,
because
I had already
learned parts of speech
at my old school.
So I found
myself thinking
of Hayes.
I wondered
what he was doing,
where he was,
why he was doing it.
I found him
rude
to intrude
my thoughts
the way he did.
Lunch
was
pretty
interesting.
So Ariannah was back,
and she was
sitting a few tables
down from me,
giving me dirty looks.
I was sick of it,
so decided
to head
to the library.
It had
stone columns
and a stone floor.
There were
windows
on every wall,
and the room
was submerged
under
a veil
of light.
There was
a librarian
at the desk
who greeted me
with a smile.
I smiled back.
So I scanned
the shelves
for something
to scavenge,
and settling
on a
Walt Whitman
book of poetry,
I began to
walk down
the aisle
of books.
There was
another librarian
polishing a plaque
on top of a shelf.
She turned towards me,
and I noticed
how pale
her skin was.
"Oh, hello."
She cocked
the edges
of her lips
into a thin smile.
"Do you need any assistance?"
I shook my head.
She shrugged
and went
back to polishing.
"What's on that plaque?"
I asked her.
"It's in memoriam of someone who tragically perished last year."
She left her rag
on the plaque
and turned
towards me.
"I felt as if I could help to keep his memory alive by cleaning his plaque for him."
She smiled sadly.
"What was his name?"
I asked her.
She shook her head,
as if I had
said something
wrong.
"His name was Grey."
"Did you know a boy named Grey who died?"
I asked Hayes
when I got home.
He was sitting
on the floor
next to me.
"I heard about it."
He told me.
He stood up
and walked
to my bookshelf.
"Could I borrow this?"
He asked,
he held Pride and Prejudice
in his hands.
"Yeah, sure."
I watched him
as he studied
each page
of the book,
and I cherished
every second of it.
He stayed
and read
to me that night.
And the next.
And the next.
On Friday night,
we watched
a movie
in my room.
We were on my bed,
and I layed my head
on his shoulder.
The movie
was pretty boring,
and I ended up
falling asleep on him.
I woke up
in the pale moonlight,
beams of it
streamed
through my window.
I was tucked
on his chest
and he was
laying down
on his back
with one arm
behind his head
and the other
draped
across my back.
His eyes
were closed.
The bare light
danced across
his face,
and his chest
sank in and out.
I could feel him breathe.
"Are you really here?"
I whispered.
He smiled.
I thought
he was asleep,
but he wasn't.
He turned towards me
and opened his
green eyes.
I was so close to him,
we were chest to chest.
He ran his fingers
through my hair.
"You really are beautiful."
He whispered.
I smiled at him.
"Do you want to go on a walk?"
I asked.
The
sky
was
my
favorite
color
again.
It was covered
by spots
of starlight
and
a big yellow
moon.
The ocean waves
were soft,
and they were
being
pulled
by the tide.
"Let's go to the water."
I said.
We shucked off
our shoes
and balanced
over the rocks.
When our feet
hit sand
we started to laugh,
because we realized
how ridiculous
we must have looked.
Barefoot at five a.m.,
burying our feet
in the sand.
I skipped
along the shore,
and he rushed
to catch up
with me,
so the next thing I knew,
we were
racing
along the beach.
He didn't
have to struggle
to catch me,
and when he did,
he picked me up
and threw me
over his shoulder.
He plowed
into the waves,
and the sea spray
wet my face
and hair.
He
hurled
me
into
the
ocean.
Water
bursted
into my back
and my chest
and my face
and everywhere.
It was pretty
exhilarating.
When I surfaced,
he was there
next to me.
He was laughing
and so was I.
I could barely
touch the bottom,
so I wrapped
my arms
around him.
His hair
was sticking
to his forehead
and his cheeks.
I probably
looked like that,
too,
but at least
he was attractive
when he looked
like a mess.
We laughed
some more.
The sky
was starting to lighten,
the grey intensified
to dimensions
of lighter contrast.
The moon
was still out
high above our heads.
The stars
were beginning
to lose their
sparkle.
"Do you want to watch the sunrise with me?"
He asked wide eyed.
"I would love to."
I didn't think
he minded
that I was
all over him
like fleas,
(I had my arms wrapped around his neck and my legs wrapped around his torso)
because
he smiled
at me so brightly.
The waves
were still soft,
pushing
onto us slightly,
as if yearning
us to do something.
"Float with me,"
I told him,
"so we can see the sky light up."
So he did,
and we laid there
on our backs
floating
in the water
like there
was something
solid
underneath us.
The tide
pulled us
further out
to sea,
but we
didn't mind.
The sky
took a while
to brighten,
but when it did,
it was magnificent.
Brushstrokes
of orange
and yellow
dragged across
the sky,
flecks of red
and purple
were
splattered
along the painting.
It was a
water colored
sunrise sky,
painted by
artist's hands.
The color
went as it came,
gradually,
then suddenly
it was gone.
We paddled
back to shore,
our bodies
veiled
with salt water.
We sat on the shore,
our toes
buried
in the sand.
I leaned into him
and he
wrapped
his arms around me.
It was cold that morning.
I didn't
want him
to see
I was cold.
Frankly,
I didn't care.
He turned towards
me and tucked
a piece of hair
out of my face.
In that moment,
God,
I swear
he was going
to kiss me.
I would have let him,
too.
But he didn't.
"Lena,"
"Yes?
"I have something to tell you. It's kind of hard to say, but it's been gnawing at my insides since I've known you. I know you won't want to see me after this, and before things get too serious I just have to---"
"Hayes,"
I whispered to him,
"I don't care. I won't leave you lonely. You've already got me on the hook."
"Lena, this is---bad. Like, you'll be---scared of me when I tell you. You really won't want to see me again."
He looked serious,
even with
globs
of water
dripping down
his chin.
He looked up
at the now
blue sky
and sighed.
"Just tell me, Hayes."
I said to him.
He sighed again.
"You remember when you asked me about Grey? The one who went to your school?"
I nodded.
"Well, this was Grey's house."
He motioned behind us.
"He lived here. And Grey had an asshole dad who beat the hell out of him every night when he'd get drunk. He'd beat him up and there was nothing that Grey could do because his dad was actually a good guy when he wasn't drunk. But sometimes, when Grey's dad went too far, he'd try to defend himself. And it sucked, because Grey could've easily knocked his dad out, but he never did. He'd throw a couple of punches and go take a walk on the beach. One time, Grey's dad went seriously way too far. He said some crappy things and tried to beat him up again, but Grey was sick of it. So he fought back. And Grey's dad was a professional leather crafter, so he had a lot of scary tools. When Grey thought his dad was knocked out, his dad threw a leather cutter and got him right in the chest. He wasn't dead yet, so his dad cherished the moment. He just kept---beating him and watching him bleed."
He buried
his face
in his hands.
"After a while, Grey couldn't feel anything. And he just---died."
Hayes
looked
as if it
was hurting him
to speak.
It was
killing me
to make
him talk.
"Hayes, you don't have to say anymore if you don't want to. It's okay, I understand---"
"But you don't."
He looked at me
in pain.
I couldn't tell
if the water
on his cheeks
were tears
or ocean water.
"You don't understand."
"Okay then, Hayes, make me understand. How do you know so much about Grey?"
He
looked
me
straight
in
the
eyes.
"Lena. I am Grey."