I try to be productive, I have all the best intentions to do what I need to but "tomorrow" always seems more clear, more clean, a better bet at feeling alive again. Homework is piling up with the laundry and bills and I'm terrified at my refusal to move. I can't function, I keep trying but somehow my desperation to feel any relief, to feel at all, always results in a crash of the most incredible sadness I've ever known. I feel as if every atom in me is questioning its existence, and everything around me seems so momentary. How can we have any concept of time, progress, or prayer when Sean is the only thing I truly believed in, the only thing we knew as a sure thing? No matter how age, education or experience changed my mind about living I knew one thing for certain. I loved him, he loved me, we would end up together somehow because we saw our greatest dreams alive in each other. It seems unbelievable but we never fought, never argued, never didn't understand the distance or time we each needed to grow up and into minds of our own. That was true faith and I have yet to experience it any other way. So when they say it will take time, when I say I'll get it done tomorrow, it's all uncertain.
In 2005 and the summer after, Sean and I remained the same as the day we met... we never tried to label it, we didn't ask questions or complicate it, it just was. I knew his first year of high school didn't include me since I was a year behind and always felt he had a better mouse to chase somewhere. (He tried to convince me otherwise.) I still didn't believe in the girl he somehow saw, I felt like I was happy because he was and that I didn't deserve to feed off his beautiful soul. Depression again, the friends I was closest to moved or moved on while I tried so hard to make it in a new crowd. This age was brutal, all awkward and stumbling through transitions. I found trouble, it kept me distracted and numb so I went looking for more. Every time I saw Sean I forgot all of it and I was suddenly the person I wanted to be, but he didn't let me get away with it. I would hug him wrong and he would know I had been with Collin, the way he looked at me when I drew my arms back from around his neck... I hated it. He knew I was looking to get hurt and shook his head in disappointment when he smelled cigarettes under the perfume on my shirt. He only wanted the best for me and I wouldn't allow myself to have it, he'd turn to walk away still shaking his head and I would stand there sinking into the floor. I wanted to keep him so badly but I refused to take his light.
The year I entered high school he fought hard for me, he was the only thing that kept me sober, at least while I was with him. I was living with my grandparents while our house was being built and it placed me within a few blocks of the best of my worst acquaintances. I had a double life and kept my "party" friends and my real ones separated. One Thursday Sean and I planned on going to this park near Salt Lake, it was one of those warm, clear nights with a calm breeze but I couldn't feel it. I couldn't face him after seeing him at school, knowing he smelled the alcohol on my breath. I told him I couldn't anymore, that my parents said no. I hated myself for it, for everything and everyone else I had failed, so I crushed them into dust and got high. I counted the pills left in the bottle, just for fun... enough to kill me if I wanted. My phone rang and startled me, Sean called my bluff and had come over to see me. At first I panicked but when I ran outside barefoot and he picked me up to spin me around, it wasn't my bad habit that made me smile like I did. My legs were still wrapped around him when I stopped laughing and realized he was looking at me, quiet. Back to panic, he knew. How the hell did he know? He immediately put me down, took my hand and walked me away from the living room window that made us a television show. I held his hand loose and casual on the sidewalk, looking at the street light coming through the branches over our heads I tried to talk too much for a serious conversation to begin. He stopped, took my other hand forcing me to face him, he was mad. I felt my eyes get hot and my lip started to shake as he pulled me down to the sidewalk, he just sat down quietly, waiting. I was in front of him and wished to be invisible. "Why do you do this to yourself?" Tears rolled down my face. "I don't know, I don't know, I'm sorry..." He said not to be sorry, but that he wasn't going to watch me do this, I was beautiful, it was stupid, pointless, it wasn't fun and I knew it. "Just stop it, now. No more... Please." He was pleading for me, his heart was full and warm and beating so loud I swear I could hear it. My head felt heavy and it buzzed like radio static. How could he love me? He wore his injuries so beautifully, they scarred him with vibrant colors and monarch patterns; mine rendered me broken and flightless. He was brave, courageous, vigilantly aware of every one's pain and wholly willing to bear any burden he possibly could. I have met so many good people in this life but I have never witnessed a man with the capacity to give himself so completely to another in need. The extent of his heart and the strength of his service was unfathomable, he drenched everything he saw in pure golden love and no person was ever left in the shade. He did so entirely unaware that it was abnormal, that most souls were too desensitized to live or understand the way he did. I promised him then, at fifteen, that I wouldn't entertain the idea of suicide ever again.
I had the best boyfriend a girl could EVER ask for and I was absolutely, blissfully, stupidly happy. Crazy, spontaneous, stuck-like-glue young love totally took over and we didn't have one opposing thought about it. We met at the couches before school, my only reason for coming early was to see his eyes catch me coming up the stairs and both our faces would ignite with excited, full force, dimpled smiles. At lunch we'd escape campus with our rowdy crew, sometimes we didn't make it back. Sometimes we'd stick around and melt together on the blue cushions, counting how many times the school patrol walked by shaking his head at us, his arm around me, talking, laughing and putting mascara on Nics mustache. After school I'd nearly tackle him, he'd carry me on his back or pick me up like a new bride and sing embarrassingly loud to the parking lot while I kissed his cheeks and giggled the whole way. We had a class together, a lapse of judgement for whoever made the schedules. Interior Design, one of the easiest classes in high school, he sat directly behind me and we both failed. We passed elaborate notes with swirly labels and cheesy sketches, and somehow we always got thirsty at the same time. When the classroom was quietly at work I would turn in my seat before standing up and Seans head would shoot up from his paper with a mischievous grin on his face. I'd wink at him and wait five seconds outside the heavy metal door next to the drinking fountain, right as it closed he would push me against the wall and kiss me like we'd been waiting a lifetime. I was sixteen but I shared every fiber of my being with that boy and every day was a blessing to be alive. Moments stretched and the clock moved at glacier speeds just for us.
The day Sean realized how young and naive we were, he saw his heart in danger and put his hands up with walls too high to climb and backed away in surrender. I was totally crushed that someone who seemed so fearless could be afraid of me, I couldn't hurt him, I would never. The roles were flipped and I was in the line of fire, my weapons behind me, fighting bare fists and relentless to make him understand. It was three days: On the first, fear attacked him and between fight or flight, he only knew to fly. The second, I failed at talking him out of it, over and over again. The third, I walked up the steps to the couches early before school. I saw Sean facing Brady, his back coated in red and white plaid, his arm on the shoulder of girl he introduced me to the week before. I stood at the top step, turned, and walked away as quickly as I could. Like a movie scene I clung to my books and darted for the door, ready to make a mistake of bitter resentment and fleeting teenage emotion. I ran for shelter and revenge. I called my two best girls and they were in the parking lot of the high school blasting NWA by the time I reached the door. I left in that manner every day for weeks after that, blanketing my disappointment in a haze of smoke and everclear. I was back with Collin, spending nights at the garage, staying away from home where the school was calling about attendance. On a Monday, the second week of December, my simple careless life was swapped for one of chaos and confusion. How easy it was then to be rash and irrational, with no concept of anything temporary. By the end of that day I had taken it too far and then realized I was only making my situation worse instead of better and I would soon have a positive pregnancy test to prove it. That day I went home knowing if I didn't get myself in check I would get kicked out of my house and expelled from school.
I withdrew completely, no more boys, I focused on making up for my irresponsibility and tried to fall off the social radar. I didn't even realize what I had done until February. I was frustrated that despite my efforts I was spending my film class after lunch in the bathroom because the smell lingering in the hall made me sick. I made a trip to Walgreens, got a Gatorade, some gum, a test, and nervously gave the despondent cashier my money. She glanced up at me in my Springville High dance hoodie with tired eyes and I thought for a moment she'd shake her head with disgrace. Sean kept calling me, I never answered. I didn't see him at school any more but I understood why when my truancy finally caught up to me and I had to attend Plato, an after school make-up class. I walked in and felt sick again, the room was filled with people I knew and talked to every day but I only saw him smiling at Brady. I was so exhausted. I hadn't told a soul yet and had no idea what it meant to be a pregnant junior in high school. My mind was blank on the subject, it seemed so intangible, all a dream. Sean saw me walk in, I faked a slight smile before sitting down in front of him. I was ready to pretend I had been too swamped with work and dance to notice his missed calls and text messages. He pretended he didn't notice the pain on my face until class ended and we were safe outside. Grey covered everything, white vapor rose from our mouths as we walked silently to my car. I was holding my books like a shield again, head down watching our legs synchronously push through the cold air. He opened my door for me and I suggested we'd get our packets done faster together, he asked if he could come over. Following me on the way home, he would ride my bumper and swerve to the side of me at a stop sign with his ridiculous face pressed against the window. Laughing felt so estranged, but good, really good.
I grabbed my moms laptop and we sat at the island in my kitchen after dinner. I remember how well he dealt with being nervous, asking my parents about their days and complimenting my step dad on his steak. He'd been in the "hot seat" a thousand times before, but tonight somehow seemed more important to him. When we had made a dent in our science packet he inquired about the CD I made him, I got up to get it and suddenly heard the thud, thud, slide of his socks across the tile and his hands caught me at the hips. It felt amazing, his warm strong arms wrapped around my waist and his chin tickling my neck. He kissed my cheek while I held his arms to me, forgetting for a split second that he might notice the barely-there bump growing beneath my pierced belly button. It was March 15th, three months and I was paranoid that the changes to my 98 pound body were obvious. I threw his hands off me and spun around grinning and challenging to deflect his attention. I threw light, coy punches to his abs and said something clever about how he thought he was so smooth. He was smiling so big, I didn't know that the girl I saw him with months earlier only stuck around a week and we had spent all this time missing each other for nothing. "Oh, really?" He said "You don't think so? Girl I'm smooth as butta." I had my hands clenched and raised to my face the way my dad had shown me, never leave a weak spot. I laughed and took a few steps back as he playfully sparred with me. I blocked every shot with my arms but when my right foot hit the stair rail behind me and I saw one coming for my stomach I gasped, threw myself backward and before I could stop myself I was saying "NoNoNoNO." He looked at me, bewildered, I usually gave him a run for his money when we sparred and wrestled like this. He turned his head slightly, eyes narrow, a thin half faced smirk on his lips. I quickly stuttered "I-I just... no body shots..." Feeling stupid I spun around on one heel and headed down the stairs, he followed with a mocking "UH HUUH." We sat back down in the kitchen to listen to the CD while we finished our work. I pressed play and opened the word document, ready to type what he read to me. Sean had other plans. He grabbed the laptop and turned it to face him. He pressed two keys and turned it back to me, we were passing notes again. I shook my head then my smile faded when I saw a single question mark on the screen. I knew I owed him an explanation. I opened my mouth then closed it again, wrinkled my nose and looked at him like "do I have to?" He looked at me, understanding, and watched me touch the keys while I spelled my confession so I didn't have to press them onto the screen. He was making it easy for me, he already knew. I pointed to each letter, P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T. He looked at me, almost smiling and I wondered just what the hell was so amusing. He raised one eyebrow and I knew he was asking if he were in trouble even though he knew darn well he couldn't be. I shook my head and couldn't control my wide, terrified eyes studying his reaction. He asked, he knew who was involved without asking, so he knew I was totally alone... now what? He turned the laptop toward him again, all the way so I couldn't see. I had no idea what to think or expect when a few seconds later he turned it back to me and rested his chin on his fist, his elbow on the table, and waited. "Can I keep you?" I could feel the most intensely confused face appear on myself and almost yelled "WHAT?!" His head flipped over his shoulder and back again as if someone might have overheard our entire silent conversation. I was shocked. Confused, impossibly boggled, speechless. He just sat there twiddling his thumbs, waiting for an answer. When I sat too long scrunching my eyes and nose, shaking my head in absolute bewilderment, he got up to stretch and impatiently tapped his fingers on the back of my chair. I stood up on my knees in my seat to meet him face to face. He was looking around, nonchalantly whistling, pretending not to notice for a moment until I took his face in my hands and shook my head up and down so fast a tear fell out of my wet eyes. He wiped it away before kissing me. That was that; signed, sealed, delivered. We'd do it the hard way because what else is really worth the fight?
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