Secrets with the Moon || keaton stromberg

Two

After leaving the small dusty treehouse, I slowly walked back home, making sure to follow the trail as my mind was somewhere else.

My mind was in California. I imagined myself standing behind him as he wrote his music, I was trying to figure out what he could do in Cali that he couldn't do here in Washington. Make a profit from music.
That was it.

He constantly complained about being trapped in this state and not being able to follow his dreams. When the opportunity presented itself though, the opportunity being his married brother who had a house in L.A, he wasn't so quick to leave. His mother made him promise to finish High School, so he did. Keaton Stromberg, the only student who was allowed to conduct an orchestra in the place of the director who had a heart attack and died the Spring before we graduated, was doing what made him happiest. Keaton Stromberg, the only one I knew who could tune a ukelele perfectly from memory, was moving away from the suffocating town he grew up in. Keaton Stromberg, the only kid who seemed to care about me, and the only kid who believed life did get better in the end, was finding his purpose in life. That Keaton, was finally free. Free from Washington. Free from all the dissuading notions. Free. From me.
It was as simple as that.

I hadn't heard from him since; his kind generous eyes, the awkward way he stood around, watching people, gathering inspiration, they're just memories now, no longer realities. Everything about him, everything I know about him at least, is five years old. He used to visit often, before his family moved down to L.A. to be with their only children, their two sons. Even before then, I refused to let my eyes even make a sideways glance towards him, I wanted my mind to forget as much as I could. I forced myself to forget, until I realized I never could.

When someone makes a big enough impact on your life, you will never forget them. Especially if the impact is bad, the memories stick around forever. Keaton taught me how to love, how to laugh, how to ride a bike for God's sake! Now what am I left with? The stupid bike now sits at the bottom of a landfill, the receipt is probably sitting right next to it, and all the clothes I had ever worn while riding the bike are now at some thrift shop or in someone else's drawers. He left me with nothing but a bottomless tub of tears and sentences I wish I had said to him to make him stay

He didn't leave me any evidence to prove he was guilty of the malicious crime that was committed five years ago. He broke me, and I'm still crawling, trying to find all my pieces.

+ + +

I open the front door of my house and walk inside, the piney smell of the outdoors slipping into the house that wreaks of artificial candle odors. It's approximately 9:00 AM, the crimson Sun slowly climbing up to its rightful throne high in the sky, only to be betrayed and overthrown by her enemy and lover, the Moon, later in the day. I've shared many secrets with the Moon the past few years, and I'm usually awake enough to watch the Sun snatch her throne back from him, continuing the never ending cycle that was started billions of years ago.

My mother, Sarah, runs around the house, pushing each loose item back in its place. Her black betraying her and falling from her Russian bun only to land in her face. After I close the screen door, making sure to leave the front door open so the smell of the outdoors can overtake the artificial smell of the inside, I slide my boots off at the front door, the welcome mat oddly not covered in mud. My brows furrow in confusion.

It's always muddy.

Carefully, I place my boots beside the mat, the small dried flakes of mud falling from the bottoms of my boots. My mother moves swiftly around the room as shehums to herself, barely noticing my presence until I cough to make it known. Her eyes snap up, the brown of her iris shrinking due to her pupils dilating in surprise.