Her face shifts—not pity, not shock–with understanding. Like she’s filing the information away, respecting it for what it is.
“I’m sorry,” she offers and I swear her voice cracks.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I tell her honestly while sitting down at the picnic table. “My mom made up for him.”
She sits next to me, close enough that her arm bumps into mine. Her head tips and she rests it on my shoulder. Together, we watch the fireflies rise higher, their lights blinking, like stars that fell from the sky.
This doesn’t feel real. Also, it feels so sweet and wholesome that my teeth should fall out. I don’t move, and neither does she. Like we both understand this is one of those moments you don’t interrupt. Her weight makes it feel like she belongs here. With me.
The fireflies blink on and off around us, careless and glowing; for the first time in a long time, my thoughts don’t race ahead to what comes next. There’s no pressure. No noise. Just this—her, the quiet, the soft summer night holding us exactly where we are.
Sadie exhales slowly. “This is, like, sickeningly sweet, yes?”
“Totally,” I agree.
Sadie laughs, I feel her shift against me, and even though we’re the most annoying people to exist in this montage, neither of us move.
After sitting in the memory of my mom and me at the park, I wonder about Sadie. Where did she grow up? Does she have memories like I do? I want to know everything but that seems aggressive. So, I start small.
“What about your family? Are you close?”
Sitting up straight and turning to me, she says, “They’re great. We talk all the time, but my dad has a hard time leaving the college. Ever. Coach Becker identity runs deep. But I’m thankful for them. They love each other, they love me, and they showed me what it was like for a marriage to be full of love.”
The way her mouth says the word marriage feels off. Like she doesn’t want to think about it. Or it’s like when lemon juice is getting too close to a cut.
“Probably great having a dad who knows the game. Understood what it meant when you got hurt.”
She looks down, her foot tapping the ground. “For the most part, yes. My dad loved watching me play.” Her lips almost turn down, but not quite.
Past tense. Loved.
“Do they ever come visit?”
“Typically at the end of August. Before classes start and my dad has his team to keep tabs on. They like it here, but they don’t love it like I do.” She looks around, the fireflies still glowing like they’re showing off.
“This place isn’t what I expected,” I admit.
“Those are the best kinds of things if you ask me.” Her shoulder bumps into mine.
She hits her hands on her knees. “Okay,” she says. “One more trash run. Then we’re calling it.”
I nod. “Deal.”
She walks ahead of me, and I already miss the weight of her head on my shoulder.
“And then I’ll take you back home.”
“But you’ll stay?”
Her eyes are wide enough I can see them in the dusk, the darkness cloaking around us.
“Of course.”
And if there’s one thing worth staying for, it’s definitely Sadie Becker.
thirty-six
Sadie
