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I’m snuggled against Chris in the backseat of the minivan. Mom says that’s fine, that she has a new playlist she’s been dying to listen to anyway. I think she knows Chris and I need this time. This privacy.
She taps a few buttons on her phone and makes a show of tuning into her soft rock mix station, turning the volume up as high as it will go. Giving me one quick glance in the rearview mirror, she flashes me a smile before pulling on her sunglasses and backing out of our driveway.
I glance up at Chris. I’m sitting in the middle seat since Mom’s packed the cooler right next to me. Maybe she did it because she knows how much I like to be next to the people I’m closest to. It’s my love language, she tells me. Physical touch.
I give Chris a little nudge with my shoulder. “Well, what do you think?”
“About what?” he asks with a grin.
“About the weekend,” I answer. We’re both whispering, even though so far we haven’t said anything we’d be embarrassed for Mom to hear. “Senior trip. Can you believe it?”
“No. I can’t.” There’s a faraway look in Chris’s eyes. I didn’t mean to turn the conversation so serious so soon. I try to change the subject.
“You ready for the history final?” I ask.
“Yeah. Thanks to you.” Chris and I have spent the past couple weeks studying together. He has to pass in order to graduate.
“Want me to quiz you?” I offer.
“Nah. It’s nice just sitting back here.” His voice gets a little wistful. It’s the tone he gets when he’s thinking.
I don’t ask too much about Chris’s home life. He tells me some. More, I think, than he ever wanted anybody to know. But with secrets like that, it’s not healthy to keep them to yourself. I’m glad he came to me. Glad he trusted me. But it’s not like it’s something we talk about every single time we get together. He knows I’m here if he needs me, and that’s good enough for both of us.
I’ve actually never been to Chris’s house. Not in the entire three years we’ve been dating. I’ve seen his dad once or twice but never spoken to him. It’s a sad family life. There’s no denying that. It’s miraculous that Chris has turned out so normal. I know a ton of that is because he started going to youth group and got serious about his faith. I sometimes feel like he’s disappointed in me that I’m not as spiritual as he is. I don’t mean to say we’re totally different. I believe in God just as much as he does. Chris is just more open about talking about things like that, whereas I keep my faith more private. More personal.
I reach out and grab Chris’s hand then lean my head against his chest. He’s strong. I feel so safe here. I start playing with his thumb, drawing little patterns on it with my own, clicking on the nail that’s so much thicker and stronger than mine. In a moment of impulsivity, I bring his hand up toward my face and kiss one of his knuckles.
“What was that for?” he asks sheepishly.
“For being you.”
We ride without having to speak. It’s nice. We have a little over two hours. No rush to get out a lot of words right now. No rush to dive into the discussions neither of us is ready to have. Like what will happen to us once we graduate and I go off to New York and he stays here.
I’ve thought about deferred admissions, even though I haven’t told my parents. Mom would understand, but Dad would probably throw a fit. There’s nothing that says I couldn’t start at NYU next year. I could even save money taking a few classes locally.
And of course, I’d be closer to Chris ...
Part of me feels like he should be the one to bring these things up, but I know he’d never ask me to do something like that. To give up my scholarship just to stay by him.
This is a decision I’ll have to make on my own.
He’s got his arm around my shoulder, which is sweet. It also shows how much more comfortable he’s grown around my mom. A year ago, he would have never dared to sit like this if anybody in my family was around. Chris and my mom get along great, but of course there’s not a single person in the world my mom can’t win over. I’ll admit, Dad can be kind of intense, so I don’t blame Chris for acting nervous when he’s around. Chris doesn’t really know what it’s like to have a father who doesn’t beat you up when he’s angry, so there’s that too. I think Chris and Marco would get along pretty well, but my brother’s busy selling pharmaceuticals. He’s hardly ever around anymore, and he’s only met Chris once or twice. Still, they’ve been cordial enough with each other. I think there’s potential there at least.
“I love you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his waist.
Chris glances nervously at my mom in the driver’s seat.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him, “it’s not like it’s that big of a secret.” I laugh and feel his body relax.
“I love you,” I repeat and wonder if I’ll ever be happier than I am right now.
I don’t know what the future has in store for Chris and me. Maybe I’ll stay around with him for another year and we’ll grow even closer than we already are. Or maybe we’ll find that when I’m in New York, the distance only makes our relationship that much stronger.
All I know is that this is the happiest I’ve ever felt, right now. Right at this moment.
A moment I know I’ll never forget.