Days passed after, blurring into weeks.
You came home to me more often than not. You didn't speak, and I could remember those days plainly because it was the start of many. The last few weeks before you shot yourself, we had not been speaking right to each other and I regret that deeply, Sam. I regret it so much because I wish I had. My last words to you had been for you to wait, please, but you didn't, you couldn't wait for another sunset to pass, you couldn't sit there on your porch with the silence you'd come to know too intimately, you couldn't bring yourself to walk another step from where you were standing, and most importantly, you couldn't bring yourself to see me anymore because it made everything in you ache.
But that came long after—years after life had hardened you. We were still too young at nine, too fragile. I could see it in the slump of your shoulders, the way your words seemed to brittle when you tried to talk or smile.
So, I didn't ask you to do any of those. I asked you to play soccer with me. You said yes. Your kicks were a mess and sometimes you tried to cover up the fact that you were crying, but we played together anyway for weeks until you reluctantly started to smile again.
YOU ARE READING
Wearing My Smile | ✔
Novela Juvenil"I wondered if you'd ever thought that the name your parents had given you felt like sharp knife twisting through your heart in its prayer. I'd never asked you that before, now I'd never get to." Having been together since forever, Roo struggles in...
