I couldn’t do this. He was only comforting me because he felt bad for me. He was probably trying to put himself in my shoes and all that BS. Elm was a good guy like that at heart. His compassion was one of the things I’d loved about him. It made him rejecting me all the more confusing.
“Really. I’m fine,” I lied as I strangled the pained sound that wanted to follow that load of malarkey, forcing it down with the rest of the bullshit I’ve been struggling to push down, keep at bay, deep down into that growing, gnawing pit threatening to tear my guts apart.
Elm released me, reluctantly. I was careful to avoid his gaze. I knew what I’d see if I met it. I knew him. A lot of time has passed, feck knows it had, but he was still that same boy from before, from all those summers laying outside on our backs trying to identify stars, easily talking about our hopes, wants, dreams. He was the same boy who’d held me when my pet lizard Zilla died and I’d cried buckets. He’d enlisted Cy and Birch to preside at Zilla’s funeral. It had been a tasteful affair with daisies from my mom’s garden, Dad’s old shoe box, and an old Led Zeppelin CD we’d pilfered from Sunny playing in the background. I still smiled and sometimes laughed thinking about the whole thing.
My feet touched the welcome mat and he let go slowly, like he was afraid I couldn’t stand on my own, like I might fall apart at his feet if he wasn’t my tether.
“I’m fine.” There was definitely an echo in here. If I kept saying it, maybe it would become my truth. My hands shot out as I shuffled back so I could grab onto the doorway for support.
“‘Kay if Pru not fine,” he rumbled out softly.
“Why?” I blurted. I’d finally dragged my gaze away from that box at our feet, met his deep green eyes which were themselves glistening with moisture, and it was the first thing that popped out of my mouth.
Elm began to fidget in place. His gaze darted around as if to search out the answer but apparently there were none forthcoming from my parents’ front porch. Soon to be some stranger’s front stoop.
I didn’t need to explain my question. I knew he knew exactly what I meant.
Why did you leave me, dump me, forget I existed? What horrible crime of friendship had I committed to deserve such treatment? Why did you stop loving me back?
The longer I stared at him, waiting, hoping for something to finally make sense, the harder it was to accept that maybe there wasn’t a justifiable reason to it, any of it, at all. Sometimes, shitty as it was for me, I could have just been a blip to him.
“You know what, nevermind. I don’t care.” My voice had hardened. I didn’t mean to sound so angry but I was. The idea he’d simply dropped me like a hot potato because he could, no explanation, no real reasoning behind it, because I cramped his preteen lifestyle, who the hell knew, because boys can be fickle?
Yet… a part of me, knowing nothing would fix this or my butthurt feelings, yelled in my head,God, does any of it REALLY matter?
He ditched you. You were kids. No one actually cares. Get over it. Grow up, Pru!
Yet here I stood, sitting in my feels, like I was a sniveling teen again, standing in front of the boy I used to love more than anything, maybe in more ways than I’d ever admitted, asking him why he didn’t love me back. Why didn’t he keep me?
Like a little lightbulb went off over my head, or maybe the sudden blank washing over me was my brain hitting the emergency shut off switch before I imploded, it felt like a shock of clarity stabbing at me. Clarity or a heart attack? Maybe a stroke? The odds were probably not in my favor.
“I don’t know why I care.” My hands lifted, a self deprecating laugh escaping me, before my hands fell limply, arms flopping to my sides. My voice cracked as I spoke— the bull crap I was shoving down rushing up felt like it was stuck in my throat and choking me. “I’m moving. Leaving. It doesn’tfucking matter. It never did, did it? Not really. Certainly not to you. I- No. It doesn’t matter. Time to grow the hell up.” Hands falling to my sides, I turned, shaking my head, and waved him off. “Whatever’s in that box, I really don’t want it. If you don’t either,” I called over my shoulder, “I dunno, burn it, dump it at the curb with the rest of the past I’ll be letting go of. Use it for kindling. I’m all out of shits to give.”
“Pru- It not- It-”
There it was again, that soft, sweet, cajoling tone.
No. I couldn’t. If it was motivated by even a fragment of pity, I’d explode.
If I let him back in and he just dumped me again I’d-
I don’t know what I did, what I’d do, but like fuck was I going to allow myself to blindly wade back into this shit.
Waving him off, I stepped inside, grabbed the door and made to close it shut firmly behind me. My efforts were blocked by a brunet giant.
Whirling around on him, I snarled, uncaring how I sounded, what I looked like, “Why do you have to come around NOW? Why come to me NOW? After all this fucking time, Elm…” Tears rolled down my cheeks anew. My skin pinkened. Embarrassment would normally be my go to but I was angry and it felt good to let it, misdirected as much of it might be, out on someone, anyone. “You ditched me! You were my best friend, my everything, and you just dropped me like I was nothing! You don’t get to come back around. You don’t get to do this to me! You don’t get the closure you’re obviously looking for.” Flipping him off, glaring up at him, I bared my teeth at him. “This is all you’ll be getting from me, Elm Tree! Do you hear me? Do you understand? This!” Lifting my hand higher, middle finger out and up, I shoved it in his face.
Brushing the hair he preferred hanging forward back, his deep green eyes were storm clouds, where his expressionotherwise remained perfectly blanked. He was letting me see but I was past the point of caring, of rational conversation and thought. I didn’t want to see, not right now. Things had bubbled over. I’d reached my boiling point. I wanted to let it out, all of it, instead of letting it fester inside of me, instead of calming down and being rational.
This wasn’t just the past, it was so much more than that. It was the culmination of everything, the accident, losing both of my parents in one go, wading through the mess left in their wake, losing the house, all rolling over into this giant pile of shit I’d love nothing more than to run away from and pretend everything was fine. He’d just been unfortunate enough to be the main character in the sidequest I’d fixated on in some ridiculous attempt to distract me from everything that was truly eating at me.
“Not- Not want to let Pru go,” Elm blurted.
“Well, you’re going to have to let go of the door and say bye-bye, Elmy-welmy. I’ve got boxes to pack and, god knows, you’ve got things to do, right? Too busy to be a part of my life things. This is my turn. I don’t have time for YOU. Sit with that, see how it feels, then maybe you’ll have an inkling of my life, yeah?” Realizing belatedly he had not in fact literally meant the door and was referring to the past, our past, my eyes narrowed to tiny, disbelieving little slits.
Instead of calling bullshit, I took a deep breath, smoothed out my expression, and shrugged my shoulders. “I’m over it. It was a long time ago. Who cares about kiddie bullshit?” Me. Very much. I was dying to pepper him with questions, to insist on answers, to keep pushing until it made sense, until I felt settled. The rational part of me knew that whatever he offered me wouldn’t satisfy me. It wouldn’t fix what had gone down. We’d never be able to go back to the way we were.
“Not ‘llowed no more. Have no choice,” he rushed out, like he was already cottoning on to where I was headed, accepting whatever he said without more if only to get him the hell out of my doorway.
