Two Kinds of People

He was your typical All-American boy. Blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a smile that could warm the most frozen of hearts. And he warmed mine in so many ways. I was lucky, because he was my boyfriend.

We grew up together because our mothers were friends and he was my best friend. We did everything together and he was always there to protect me. When I was too tired to walk home, he'd give me a piggy-back ride, and in middle school when I got my braces, he punched Jimmy Micheals in the face for calling me train-track. They had to reset his nose.

He was an amazing football player, a jock if you will, and everybody loved him. He could have had any girl he wanted, but he chose me.

I never missed a game of his, and he always came to my choir concerts and speech tournaments. We were like those romance novels that every teen girl wants to be in. The nerd and jock end up together. They lived happily ever after, the end.

But that's not how our story ended. If not for two sundays ago, it probably would have.

On November 10th, my world was changed forever. He was heading home from my house. We had just driven back from the pizza parlor. It was my fault. I had asked him to stay just a few minutes longer.

I knew it was getting late, and he had to pass a bar on his way home, but I just wanted a few more minutes with him. If he had left earlier, he would have missed the rain that started.

He hated rain. He always jokingly said it turned him into a brunette and that we would look more like siblings than a couple. He also said that the thunder scared his dog and that you couldn't see the sun when it rained.

But the rain, and the drunk driver hit him. The drunk driver was going seventy in a forty mile zone. Sam's car slid in the rain around a curve and into the other lane. He got stuck in a pot hole there. He didn't see the other car coming until it hit him as he tried to get his car out.