I can’t pretend to know their same fear, but I do understand. I saw what it was like when they thought I was gone. The peace I see in them now is such a stark contrast that I believe them, and I forgive them. I can’t pinpoint when it happened exactly, but we reached a place where we can finally be honest with each other again. I just wish it hadn’t taken until the night before I leave town to get here.
“I know it may not mean much now,” my dad cuts in, “but we’ve forgiven Miles. I’d like to believe that even if our worst fears had come true and we lost you that day, that we’d still get to this place. The accident doesn’t define his character, Teddy. He’s a good person. Just someone who made a terrible mistake.”
I’m hearing,listeningto everything that they’re saying, but their words are sifting through this filter in my head that’s hanging on to all the reminders of why I should protect myself from Miles. I’m still at war over the fact that hismistaketook nearly every one of my memories formonths. That as I’ve gotten to know him all over again, he hid this monumental moment from me knowing it would change things between us.
As if they can hear my thoughts, my parents look at me with sympathy.
“I hope one day you can forgive him too, sweetheart. Because you’ve never looked at anyone the way you look at Miles.”
My mom gives me a weak smile, and I start to cry. I cry for the sad, lonely girl inside of me who mourns what could have been had I known. Maybe I’d feel the same level of peace they feel now. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything at all. But at least I’d be leaving tomorrow having had months to reach a place of closure.
It’s past ten o’clock when we start packing. We spend three hours combining all my belongs into a couple of suitcases. My mom fixes me a sandwich for the road, and my dad adds a few tools to my luggage “in case they come in handy.”
I fight sleep as muddled thoughts of my argument with Miles compete inside my head.You’re running,I hear him say. I can’t quiet them no matter how hard I fight, so I stop trying altogether. Instead, I reach for the old sketchbook in my vanity drawer with the intent to flip through the pages one last time. Try to make peace with what I’m leaving behind. I’m only a couple pages in when a core memory surfaces.
I’m ten years old in the backseat of our family hatchback, sulking over the fact that I had to leave behind my best friend for the summer. Even back then, I always drew what I was feeling, and this particular sketch is no different. It’s a game of capture the flag. There’s only one other person in the drawing besides me, and I’m desperately running to capture her hand but it's too far away. She was always the one person I’d confide in the most when things got rocky. Like they are right…
I reach for my phone. With unsteady fingers, I open my contacts and touch her name. It rings just once before a trembling breath vibrates through the static on the other end.
“Cozy?” I ask.
Will I recognize the sound of her voice? Am I doing the right thing? Will she be happy to hear from me?
“You remembered me,” she whispers.
My eyes mist from the warm tone. It’s the same one that used to accompany a smile whenever she looked at me.
“How could I not,” I say through the emotion that’s making my voice tremble.
“Are you okay?” she asks, and I find myself shaking my head. She can’t see it, but somehow, like a best friend would, she just knows.
“Tell me everything,” she says, and by the time I get to the part that I’m living now, I’m bawling in the fetal position.
“It’s okay,” she hushes.
“I don’t know how to forgive him for what he did,” I tell her.
She huffs out a laugh. “Well, Miles has made a lot of dumbass moves over the years.”
I choke on my laugh.
Imissedhaving a best friend. To talk to. To listen.
“But there is one thing he’s always gotten right.”
I swallow. “What’s that?”
“That guy has never stopped loving you.”
I smile for the first time in twenty-four hours. It’s something I didn’t know I needed to hear until she said it out loud. Even when Miles crashed that truck that changed my world, it was a mistake he made in a moment where his love for me was all-consuming. A mistake that deserves to be forgiven.
Cozy and I talk for hours after that. Mostly about her European travels. She fills me in on all the things that her Instagram account missed—which wasn’t all that much—but I find out the campaign has been such a success that they’ve extended her contract an additional ten countries. She asks about the last nine months for me, and for the first time, I get totell someone a true and honest version of it. One where I’m not pretending that the past doesn’t matter to me.
I watch the sun rise from the end of the dock the next morning, my packed bags beside me. It’s the worst day to be traveling with how little sleep I got.
“Hey there, kid. Taking off somewhere?” Shep says, sitting down beside me. He dunks his usual wader-covered legs into the water.
“Trying to stop me?” I ask on a sigh.
