I
plopped down onto the plush, beige chair in the living room of Will’s basement. Will lay sprawled out lengthwise on a worn-in, auburn couch. The familiar video game controllers and cords, left abandoned, stretched across the cream-colored carpet in front of the entertainment center, and small, overstuffed pillows and colorful throws representing several different sports teams littered the chair and the couch that Will lay on.
“What are you up to?” I asked him as I made myself comfortable in the soft chair next to the couch.
Will remained quiet just long enough for me to sense that something was wrong, though I waited for him to speak first as I racked my brain trying to figure out what that something was.
“You didn’t tell me that you were going away,”
Will finally said, accusingly.
“Away? What do you mean?” I asked. I had a slight smirk on my face.
Away
seemed so vague. It almost sounded criminal – or worse.
“I know you applied to
Missouri
,” he charged.
“And?” I punched back, though I knew I would have more explaining to do later. I knew he would never settle for that answer.
“It’s hours away, Julia,” Will said sternly, solemnly. “There’s several good schools right down the road.”
I paused for a moment, mostly to hold back my disdain for his disdain.
“Will, they’re hardly just down the road,” I protested. “And
Missouri
’s a good school for me, you know that.”
Will remained silent and used the remote to flip through the television channels rhythmically. I watched him continuously press the channel button, not even bothering to see what was on each one, while he stared expressionlessly into the TV’s screen.
I moved over to the couch and took a seat on the piece of plush surface near Will’s stomach that had not been taken up by the tall, muscular figure. I swiveled around so that I faced him and then gently took the remote from his hand, muted the TV and set the channel changer down onto the surface of the coffee table.
Taking away his distractive device was easy. Getting his full attention proved harder. His stare remained plastered to the screen.
“I didn’t tell you because I’m not even sure that I’ll even get in and because I wanted to avoid this,” I said, opening up my hand and pointing it face up toward him.
It wasn’t the real reason, and I knew I should have told him, but he, now, had given me a temporary leg on which to stand, so I stood my ground. Who was he to say where I could go to school?
“Avoid what? Me being a part of your life?” Will asked sternly. “Don’t I get a say in anything? Does it matter where I want you to go?”
Confused by his line of questioning, I paused to evaluate the conversation and to manage the mercury in my anger thermometer, which by now, was rising quickly to
boiling
, before continuing.
“Will, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but at the same time, I should not have to ask you where I can and cannot apply to schools,” I protested.
There was a slight pause.
“Well, if you’re going to leave anyway, then what’s the point of us staying together? We should just end it now,” Will said coldly, still glaring into the muted television screen.
His cold words struck me hard and right to the heart. Sure, we had argued before – mostly about silly, little things like what time certain stores closed or how long it took to get to some places or what the real words were to certain songs, but this was different. I had never heard him hint at giving up on us before, and I had never heard words so cold come from the same lips that made me feel so loved.
“Will, you don’t mean that,” I demanded softly, growing more and more irritated with him.
I watched his eyes as they followed the figures dancing on the television set.
“Will,” I said concernedly, demanding his attention.
His eyes made no movement toward mine. Furious, I grabbed my keys from the coffee table and made my way to the basement exit. I had nothing left to say, and even if I had, he was too stubb
orn right now to listen anyway.
When I reached the brass knob of the wooden storm door, I took one, last glance back at him. His eyes were still planted on the television’s screen. I let out an angry sigh then, just before I pushed open the door and marched outside, letting the wooden entrance swing shut behind me.
Outside, the night sky had already blanketed the world, making everything pitch black, and the contrast between the bright, living room inside and the darkness outside at first shocked me, but in the end, did little to slow me down. Despite being blinded for several seconds while my eyes adjusted, I kept moving. I was livid by now, but there was still that crazy-person part of me that wanted him to follow after me. I wanted him to say he was sorry and hold me and make everything all better again, which
I knew he had the power to do.
My heart stabbed at my chest when I reached my jeep, only to glance behind my shoulder and find that he wasn’t there.
“Forget it,” I whispered angrily under my breath.
I lifted the door handle, jumped into my jeep, swung my seat belt across my chest, heard it click and felt blindly for the key on my key chain that would start the ignition. In the dark, my fingers shifted from one metal object to the next, feeling for the largest one with the rubber coating on top. While brazing over each item, I came to a strange, long piece of metal with what felt like a tiny hook at the end. When seconds went by and I could not so much as conjure up an image in my mind of what the object could be, I felt for the dome light ab
ove my head and switched it on.
“My luck,” I whispered again as I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and laid my head against its rounded top,
letting out an irritated sigh.
It had been a golf club attached to his set of keys – not mine.
Moments of dead silence allowed the argument to begin replaying in my mind again. He had been so selfish, so thoughtless. I hated his cold, cruel words, but they, at the same time, seemed so insincere. In fact, he almost looked scared. Could he have been just as terrified of me leaving as I was at the thought of leaving him? His words stung, but I knew that he had not meant them – could not have mea
nt them.
Lost in my own meandering contemplations, I suddenly heard the front door of the house open, which forced my eyes to follow the sound.
Soon after, an outside light flickered on, and then I could see, standing in the doorway to the beige-siding house, Will, with a slight smile in his expression that had been absent just moments before, holding up my set of keys.
I tried to hold back my own smile as he sauntered toward me, his eyes seductively piercing me. He had made me angry. I had to show him
that.
His lips finally burst into a full grin as he edged closer and saw my own fru
stration uncontrollably waning.
After closing in on my jeep, he opened my door, unbuckled my seat belt and took my hand. I willingly stepped out of the driver’s seat, planted my feet on the street along the curb and leaned my back up against the side of the vehicle. I watched him as he gently closed the door and pulled me closer to him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into my ear as he embraced my body. “I love you more than the world itself, and I can’t imagine life without you.”
He paused, kissed my forehead and put his lips to my ear again.
“You’ll get in, and I’ll be happy for you. And we’ll find a way to be together – no matter what. If I have to sing songs on the sidewalks of
New Milford
to get to you, I’ll do it,” he said, softly laughing.
An overwhelming feeling of love overtook me then. It was as if he alone held the keys to my sanity and my safety and my happiness, and he had just used them to give me life again. So much fo
r showing him that I was angry.
“I’m sorry too,” I whispered back. “I should have told you. But let’s not fight anymore. I love you,” I said, nestling my head
into his broad, muscular chest.
And in those three words, I felt like I understood then that life would not always automatically generate a perfect puzzle joined together by fireworks and fireflies. And though I had hoped that we would not fight like that again, I ultimately knew that life would not be that easy on us. Some jagged pieces that didn’t seem to quite fit together were always going to be in the box – this, I somehow knew. But what is a puzzle without the hard to fit pieces? Why would people even bother to put it together without the challenge and the excitement in seeing the image slowly become one, united likeness? In the end, I had to believe that when all of the pieces were touching, they would leave behind a beautiful depiction of life. And I knew that if Will and I could somehow find a way to be together in the final act that we would always find a way to combine the jagged pieces to construct a beautiful ending. I held tightly to this assumption as I surrendered to his gentle embrace and hoped in his promise.
“Jules, we’re gonna grow old and wrinkly together, you know that, right?” Will softly whispered into my ear.
I smiled as he squeezed me tighter and seemed to take in the flowery scent of my hair.
“I know,” I whispered.
“H
ey, Good Lookin’,” Will called out as he snuck up behind me, took the couple of books from my hands and put his arm around my waist.
I jumped slightly, but quickly recovered when I realized who it was.
“Hey,” I said, smiling. “You scared me.”
“Just waking you up, my Sweet Jules
,” he said in his sultry voice.
The voice was cheerful and comforting.
“I mean, today, it’s calculus and physics, but tomorrow it’s the presidency,” he continued, giving me a wink.
I smiled at him coyly. Then, I grabbed my backpack and duffle bag, closed the jeep’s door and turned toward the lingering figure tower
ing over my much smaller frame.
“And are you prepared to be the First Gentleman yet?” I asked. A sarcastic smirk lingered on my lips.
“Sure, but only as long as I can turn the backyard into an eighteen-hole golf course. Oh, and I would like to be addressed as
Will, Will Stephens
,” he said in his best James Bond impression.
“What?” I asked. I shook my head slowly and squinted
my eyes for effect as I spoke.
“It’s just one, measly, little golf course and one, measly, little name request. I don’t think the American people would mind,” he said with a mischievous half smile. “
Roosevelt
got a zebra,” he added.
My bewildered stare caught his.
“What?” he asked. “I was listening in History the other day.”
I stared into his baby blues for a second longer before speaking.
“You’re ridiculou
s,” I said, smiling up at him.
Then I turned and started making my way to the small school building at the bottom of the hill. Will followed after me.
“Lady’s first, My Love,” Will said as he suddenly reached in front of me and grabbed hold of the metal door with its two, tiny, glass windows. “I know you’ll come to your senses eventually.”
I faked a laugh and then
walked through the tall doors.
It took me two tries to manipulate the latch that freed my sticky locker door from its base, but on the second try
, the slender door popped open.
“You walking me to class today?” I asked Will as I slid a couple of textbooks onto the locker shelf above me and grabbed two others.
“Is today any different than any other day, Jules?” he asked rhetorically and in a voice that made him sound as if he was being put out.
“Of course,” I said, chiming in on the opportunity. “Today is the day you realize that you can’t possibly live without me,” I said, grinning in his directio
n.
“I thought that was yesterday,” he said, smiling back, pleased that he had beat me at my own game.
My grin grew as I shut the stubborn locker door and stepped
toward Will three lockers down.
“Okay, let’s get goin’. I’ve gotta stop by Coach's office before class too,” Will said, taking the couple textbooks from my hands.
“Okay,” I replied. “Why do you so urgently need to talk to him this morning?”
“I don’t. He’s got a cookie jar,” he said, sounding as if I should have known. “You have so much to learn about life, My Dear.”
I rolled my eyes again as we set out down one of the two hallways that made up the small high school building. We reached the tiny classroom seconds later, and Will followed me in and set my books down onto a small lab table next to
a life-size, plastic skeleton.
“T
hank ya, Hun,” I said, smiling.
“Just remember. I want it to be eighteen holes, and maybe we can have a press conference, just so everyone knows how to say it. It’s
Will, Will Stephens
. It doesn’t have the same effect if it’s not said right,” he reiterated.
“Okay, OO7,” I said, humoring his ridiculousness.
“Oh, and have fun in your next quote, unquote class, otherwise known as study hall,” Will jeered at me as he quickly kissed my cheek before the teacher in the front of the room could turn around. “I’ve got to quote, unquote, check some English answers after this hour,” he said in a hushed tone, at the same time, making quotation marks with his fingers.
“Okay, my little scholar. I’ll see you later,” I said, smiling back at him.
“By the way, I’ve decided what I want to be when I grow up,” he said before he turned to walk away.
His words came out so casually that I almost didn’t notice he had said them at all.
“Really?” I asked, slightly delayed, and I’m sure looking somewh
at shocked by his announcement.
“What?” I asked.
“A firefighter,” he announced proudly.
“A firefighter?” I asked. Was he serious? Was he joking? I was trying to figure it out.
“Yeah, it just came to me last night when I was driving by the fire station,” he said. “You know, I drive by that building everyday and never think about it, but last night, I thought, I can do that. I could do that for the rest of my life and be happy.”
He was smiling. He looked like a boy who had just won an all-day access pass to a theme park.
“You sure about this?” I asked him earnestly. My expression was as blank as the chalkboard in the front of the tiny classroom.
“Never been surer. Well, except when I met you,” he said, sending a wink my way.
I paused for a second, while a smile resurfaced on what was my vacant face.
“That’s great, Honey. I’m really happy for you,” I said, not being completely truthful. Though, I forced the corners of my mouth to turn up even so.
He smiled back at me as he turned to go.
“Wait,” I said, stopping him. “Does this mean you get to wear those sexy firemen outfits?” I asked in a hushed tone, half teasing, half serious, trying not to show him my hesitations.
Will looked at me, still smiling, not completely surprised by my comment. Then, he nodded his head slowly in confirmation, while raising one eyebrow.
“Then, you’ve definitely got my vote,” I said, smiling wider.
“Good, well I’m gonna be late. Don’t let Mr. Bones over here sweet talk ya too much,” he said, elbowing the life-si
ze, plastic skeleton.
And then, he was gone.
My stare slowly faded from the doorway then and landed on a spot near the skeleton’s ribs. Thoughts cascaded through my head – lots of thoughts, from all directions.
His news left a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. Firefighters were heroes – I knew this. Everyone knew that. But at the same time, there were always costs. Costs I didn’t even want to imagine.
My smile was fading when I noticed that I was still staring at Mr. Bones. I quickly turned my gaze down before anyone could misjudge my meandering thoughts for an odd obsession with the plastic figure.
Couldn’t he have decided to be an accountant or a banker or a teacher or something safe like that – anything but a firefighter? Didn’t he know how dangerous the j
ob was or what it all entailed?
And sure, I was thrilled that he had found something he was passionate enough about to pursue as a career. He had fought the questions and pressures of classmates, teachers and the school’s counselor about choosing a livelihood for so long now. It must have meant the world to him to have finally found his calling – his heart’s desire. And he would be great at it. There was no doubt in my mind about that. He had always had that kind of connection with the community. Of course, camp counselor and little league umpire would never prove to be quit
e as dangerous, one would hope.
And what about college? I had always marveled at its intriguing nature – a new place, new faces, new experiences and most of all, independence. But then again, Will had never really bought into the whole college scene’s allure either, I guess. He hadn’t ever been too interested in anything new at all really. And when it came down to it, I guess, his choice was, after all, honorable and courageous, even if he didn’t see it that way, and despite my own reservations, it wasn’t, after all, my choice to make. And he had already planted his heart and had made up his mind, and there would be no changing it. I knew this much. Beyond that, he had been smiling – that little, goofy smile of his when he thinks all the world is right. That’s w
hat really mattered in the end.
I shuffled to a chair behind
the lab table and fell into it.
He had been smiling, and now I was smiling again too thinking about him and his decision and my decision to support him – reservations or no reservations – because in the end, I knew that our lives were about to change. And I had already promised myself that I would spend the next several months bottling his smiles for safe keeping – for a time when they wouldn’t be an arm’s length away.