The Way It Used to Be

23

Colton walked slowly, kicking at grass and ambling along like he wasn't sure in what direction he wanted to go. I noticed this, and it made me nervous and excited all at once. He was anxious; his shoulders were tense and his jaw set. I hadn't seen an anxious Colton very many times in my life, but here he was. I kept close to him, hoping he would reach for my hand or start talking or call me Beautiful or make a joke.

Say something.

Say something.

I broke the silence. "Jack says you're spending Thanksgiving at Jamie's house," I said matter-of-factly. It wasn't a question, so I didn't even know if he would respond. Please respond. I pleaded with him over and over in my mind.

He was silent for a few minutes as we turned toward the dock, and he nodded before he spoke. "He told you right. Her dad and I are going hunting Friday morning, and she's going shopping with her mom."

It was a casual conversation among friends. It seemed that way, at least. Deep down, though, my stomach was starting to turn. I knew that if something good were coming from this conversation, he would have already said it. Colton could never contain surprises. He was too giddy. He loved too hard, too much. He once built his mom a porch swing for her birthday, but he gave it to her a week early because he just couldn't wait. I never could understand how he managed to hold on to my Jeep for so long. It must have killed him.

We didn't make it to the dock before he started talking. He ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair over and over again.  It was another sign that he was anxious. I was looking at the sky when he said my name. "Beau..." I turned my eyes to him. Something about the way he said it wasn't right. Something was wrong.

"Beau, I'm sorry." Every time he said my name, the knife perpetually lodged in my ribs turned. "Sorry for—..." I tried to ask, but he cut me off.

He continued, his voice pained and distorted. "I'm sorry for that night at my house. I'm sorry held you. I'm sorry I ran away from you. God damn, Beau, I'm sorry I wanted to stay."

I didn't know where he was going with this, but I felt like I couldn't breathe. Can we sit? I wanted to ask, but he wouldn't stop talking long enough.

"I've loved you for as long as I can remember."

I couldn't breathe. I stared at him, willing my eyes to tell him to stop. I can't breath. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

He didn't, though. He continued.

"But I've gotta let you go."

I audibly heaved, trying to find breath. He was breaking up with me, and he wasn't even mine. I felt nostalgia for something that never was.

Tears welled in my eyes. I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to hold my legs steady.

"Colt, please, I—..." I started, but I didn't get to finish.

"No, Beau, listen. I have to get this out." He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the ground. He breathed in deeply and made a sort of hiccuping sound. When he looked back up at me, his own eyes were glazed with tears.

"Jamie and I set the wedding date. We are going to get married next September...Labor day weekend so our families can enjoy the long weekend. I wanted you to hear it from me."

His words were like being kicked in the stomach. The air I hadn't yet found left me in an instant. If this was about his wedding, then why was he crying?

When he continued, I knew. I heard myself sob, and a tear from his own eye fell in response.

"I've gotta let you go. I promised her I loved her. And only her. And I do love her, Beau, I do. But every time I see you, I feel everything I felt when I was twenty come rushing back. And I don't know what's real and what's a memory and what I really feel."

I shook my head, begging him to stop, but I couldn't find the words.

"This is going to be the last time I acknowledge those feelings, Beau. I can't keep loving your ghost and loving her at the same time. It isn't fair to her, and it's not fair to you."

I placed a hand on my heart, as if I could feel it physically breaking. I couldn't feel it beneath my fingers, but I knew it was shattering.

"We can't be friends, either." With that he made that same hiccuping, cough of a sound and wiped his eyes. "I don't know how to be friends with you, because whenever I'm around you, I just want to hold you. I just want to feel you against me. I just want to kiss you, and I can't fucking stand it."

I was staring at the ground, my body shaking with sobs as he spoke. "I understand." It was all I could manage to get out.

He took a deep breath and stretched his arms out, snaking them around me and pulling me to his chest. He held me there, our bodies shaking together, tears soaking in to his shirt and my hair. I felt him kiss the top of my head before he spoke again. "You'll always be the love of my life, Beau. Always. But I've got to start living my life again, and it can't revolve around you. I'm gonna be a good husband."

I nodded against his chest. He would be a good husband. He would take Jamie coffee in bed and leaves flowers on the kitchen counter for her to find. He'd make sure she always had the good seat for movies, and he'd crank her car before work. She'd never wonder where he was or if he was thinking about her. He always would be. He'd have no problem being a good husband.

I just wish he could have been mine.

He whispered he was sorry again and told me he'd miss me again before he untangled himself from my arms and walked away from me, leaving me standing in the grass wishing I could disintegrate into the dirt.