I took a left turn before my house. Don’t ask why. I just didn’t feel like being there. My friend, Will, had been lagging behind and saw me change my route, because soon enough he was behind me again.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he said. “Where are you going?” He followed me down the bank of a stream. I waded out into the water, stepping on flat, grey rocks, before sitting one of the larger stones. Will joined me.
“This isn’t the way to your house,” he finally said.
I laced my fingers through his. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“I guess,” he said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
“Share,” I said.
“Nope. Smoking is my bad habit. Go pick up your own.”
“We’ve all already got bad habits, Will.”
“Lucy…” he started.
“I’m sorry…”
“Hey, look. I’ve always wondered; why did you just leave me to go it alone that night?”
“Because I didn’t think you needed me. Why are you asking me this?” I said, getting visibly more upset.
We looked at each other until we couldn’t anymore. I stared at the fish in the steam, but they started to get fuzzy from tears. “Look. I’m sorry. But it wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry for not letting you in. But I didn’t feel like I could at the time. I’m sorry for not going with you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” And all of the sudden, I’m shaking and he’s holding me tighter.
Then he’s gone. Almost as quickly as he died, or so I’m told. I wiped up my cheap mascara tears and headed back up the bank toward my house. I came in really quietly, so no one knew I was home. I tip toed up to my bedroom closed the door and sank down behind it, sobbing. “This has got to stop,” I whispered to myself.
That was the last day Will came back to me.
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