“The world breaks everyone and after, many are stronger at the broken places.”― Ernest Hemingway
out and do some more errands, so I went back upstairs to clean up the mess I had made of my room. After getting things organized enough that I could live with it, I went downstairs to see how much food was in the house. I could at least buy some groceries after moving back in without so much as a phone call to make sure my room was still available. I knew it would be. My brother would always have a home for me. That was just the way he was.
As I searched through the cabinets and refrigerator, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. Finally, on the fourth ring, I answered it and put it on speaker.
“Hello.”
“Hi Tess? This is Leigh’s Aunt Trudy.”
“Oh, hi, I…” I stammered while dropping the canned vegetables I had been sorting through. “Sorry,” I tried to speak over the noise of the can clattering to the kitchen floor. “How are you doing?”
“I’m hanging in there.” Her voice sounded tired, actually more than tired. She sounded utterly exhausted.
“How are Mr. And Mrs. Shay?” I asked quietly as I sat down at the kitchen table.
“Honestly, devastated and barely functioning.” Her voice choked up.
In all of my packing, driving, and unpacking, I had mentally blocked thinking about Leigh’s death. How young she was, how it would affect her family, how I felt about it, but listening to Leigh’s aunt trying to control her tears brought it all to the surface.
“How are you holding up?” she asked me after a moment.
“Hanging in there too.”
She didn’t need to know and could probably care less that immediately after getting fired and hearing about Leigh’s death, I packed up my apartment and moved back in with my brother. Besides, if I was being true to myself, I couldn’t blame all my actions on Leigh’s death or even being fired. It might have been the spark that lit the fire, but it had been smoldering for a long time. Losing Leigh and my job so suddenly has pushed everything I’ve been missing to the surface, and I have nothing to cover it up with anymore. No hectic job to focus on and no comfort in the thought that I would always have Leigh.
“Are you going to make it to the funeral?” she asked. “It’s next Saturday.”
“Yes, of course. I’m actually in town now and am going to her parent’s house this afternoon. Do you know if they need anything or if there is anything I can do to help?”
Trudy was silent.
“Trudy?” I prompted.
“They wanted me to ask you to do the eulogy.”
The eulogy. My breath caught in my chest, and a swirl of contradicting emotions rushed through me. Terror. But also, love and an overwhelming sense of gratitude that they would trust me to speak at the funeral. And finally, all of it was buried under the immense loss that hit me like an avalanche. The mental dam I had put up to block my feelings broke.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I can write the eulogy.”
“Thank you, Tess. It really means a lot to them and me, and I know it would mean a lot to Leigh.”
“It’s an honor. If you need anything, let me know. Please.”
“I will. Talk to you soon. Thanks again, Tess.”
She hung up, and I sat there clutching my phone and trying to get my scattered thoughts in line. I stared at the small kitchen table. It was a round wooden table that used to be in my grandma’s house. She fed all of us kids at it when she was babysitting. My uncle had it in his basement since grandma died and gave it to Benny to use in this house after our parents died.
Leigh and I ate at this table more times than I could count. Some of my earliest memories of us together are sitting at this table eating and laughing, coloring, playing checkers, and telling little girl secrets. So many memories I hadn’t thought of in years.
Blowing out a long breath, I stood up and made myself put one foot in front of the other and go upstairs. My old journal hid in the wall behind my desk inside my makeshift closet, forgotten for years. I stopped writing in it the day my parents died. I was afraid of what would come out of me. But I also couldn’t throw it away.
I went back downstairs to the little kitchen table, sat down, opened my journal to a blank page, and began to write.
I’ve known Leigh for as long as I can remember. She was always at my grandma’s house when I went to visit. We were instantly best friends, even though we were total opposites. She was the pretty, girly one that liked to paint her nails and wear her hair down. She was also incredibly sweet and kind. And tolerant. She certainly put up with me, probably more than she should. Even though it wasn’t her thing, she would climb trees, play ball, and get dirty, because that was what I wanted to do. Looking back, we were always doing what I wanted to do. Rarely did I play dolls or dress up like she would want…
I sat back in the chair and gently laid my pen down across the page. One paragraph. I felt like my heart was being torn apart. It wasn’t the memories of our childhood together breaking my heart. We had not seen each other for at least two years, and it was my fault. She had tried to keep in touch and kept trying to make plans. I was always too busy. Too busy in a life that didn’t even hold any happiness for me. I had checked out on Leigh, and everyone really, in high school after my parents died.
I took a deep breath and closed the journal, shoving it in my purse. I needed to put a lid back on my grief for now and get my emotions under control. Grabbing my purse, I went outside and got in my car. I sat in the driver’s seat and stared out the window. My head was a jumbled mess in one sense, but also completely blank. I couldn’t decide which thought running through my head I needed to focus on, so I didn’t focus on any of them. Turning the key, I started the car and its trusty engine roared to life. Sending a silent prayer of thanks, I turned around and drove down the long driveway. At the end of it, on auto pilot, I turned left.
A few short minutes later, I stopped in the middle of the road and looked out the window. Without thinking about where I was going or why, my natural instincts took over and I found myself in front of Jack’s house.
Sighing, I laid my head on the steering wheel. Why was I here?
He probably wasn’t home. God, I silently prayed, please don’t let him be home. Simultaneously, my stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of seeing him.
Jack’s family owned the farm next to the little house that Benny rented and eventually bought when our parents died and we lost our farm. Whereas our farm had been small and more of a side job for my parents than anything else, the Hallowell farm was a business. They had deals to supply meat, chicken, and produce to large commercial food distributors. Running a large farm and keeping distributors happy is a stressful business. The Hallowells earned every cent they made with a lot of blood, sweat, and tears running that farm year after year.
I smiled a little as I remembered my first encounter with Jack on our elementary school playground. I was bored with the swings and the monkey bars, so I wandered over to where some of the boys were playing a thrilling game of kickball.
“Hey, can I play?” I asked the first boy I came to.
He looked at me and laughed. “We don’t want to play with some little girl,” he responded snidely. Some of the other boys nearby laughed too but most of them looked nervous. I wasn’t sure why but didn’t really feel like figuring it out right then.
My face immediately felt hot with embarrassment. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I shut it down. I am not crying in front of a bunch of stupid boys.
“What? Scared I might beat you?” I replied with my own sneer.
“Yeah right,” he said with a snort. “Look, this is a boys’ game. Go play somewhere else.” He was no longer laughing as he got up in my face. I took a step back. I had an older brother and we argued sometimes but he never acted like that towards me. Kickball Boy was scary.
“Why are you such a jerk Anders? Back off her,” said another boy as he rushed over and stood between us. I peeked around my savior to see Kickball Boy, or Anders I guess is his name, back up a step.
“What? Is she your little girlfriend or something Jack?” Anders replied.
Jack didn’t take the bait. He just stood there and stared at Anders. I noticed no one was playing kickball anymore as they watched Jack and Anders.
“Got nothing to say? Cat got your tongue? She’s just a stupid little girl. What are you, second grade?” he asked looking at me. I didn’t respond. This kid seemed a little unhinged and I didn’t want to cause anymore trouble for the boy who had come to help me.
“Anders, we’re playing a game of kickball at recess, not the Super Bowl. You don’t need to be such a jerk because someone else wants to play. I say let her play and whoever doesn’t like it can shut his pie hole,” Jack said looking directly at Anders.
Anders had the red face now. I knew he wanted to punch Jack, but I didn’t think he had the guts. Most bullies don’t when someone stands up to them.
Proving my point, Anders threw the kickball down and stormed off.
“You okay?” Jack asked as he turned to face me.
I smiled at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for coming over here. I didn’t mean to ruin the game,” I said.
“You didn’t ruin anything. Anders has always been a butthead. Come on, there’s still a few minutes left of recess, let’s go play,” he said as one of the boys threw the kickball to him.
I smiled and jogged next to him over to where the other boys were taking their positions, without Anders now.
“I’m Tess,” I said to Jack.
Jack smiled. “Jack Hallowell. Nice to meet you, Tess.”
From that day on, I sought Jack out on the playground until he left me behind at elementary school and moved up to the middle school. He was a year ahead of me in school. Eventually, our families became acquainted and then became friends. Jack and I stayed friends through the awkward middle school years and on into the angst-filled high school years. Until, one summer, we became something more.
The summer before my sophomore year and Jack’s junior year was almost like any other in the sense that every free moment, Jack, me, Leigh, and sometimes Benny and Jack’s brothers were hanging out, four-wheeling, or going to the lake for a swim. It was easier now since a couple of the kids in the group had their driver’s licenses and could pick up whoever needed a lift instead of nagging our parents for a ride.
One night, we were all camping out at my parent’s farm. This was something we did often in the spring and summer, ever since we were kids. Usually, everyone’s parents were there too, hanging out by the fire and “shooting the shit” as my dad would say, until we were ready to go to our tents and sleep. This night, the last camp out before school started back up, the parents turned in early and so did most of the friends. It had been a busy day on the farms digging up potatoes, picking the last of the green beans, and getting things ready for the fall. People were tired.
Jack and I were sitting by the fire, just the two of us. Things had been feeling different between him and me for some time. Really, ever since I started high school, though neither of us would acknowledge nor talk about it. He dated some other girls here and there and I had short-lived relationships with some other boys, but not anything serious for either of us.
Sharing a blanket on the ground, we were sitting next to each other, leaning against the logs my parents had put around the fire pits for seating. We were staring into the fire, not talking, when his hand drifted to mine. I looked down as he slid his fingers down my palm and between my fingers. We both closed our fingers over each other’s hands at the same time. I looked over at him and met his gaze. He always had the prettiest hazel eyes. Then he leaned over and kissed me. It was soft and a little hesitant. I opened my mouth just a little, and the kiss turned a bit more passionate. It was the best kiss of my young life.
A tear rolled down my cheek and dripped onto the steering wheel as I sat in my car in the middle of the road remembering how it all started. I stared at his parent’s house, lost in my memories when a car horn broke my train of thought. I looked in my review mirror and was about to wave out the window in apology when I saw who was in the truck behind me.
Jack.