Laura Miller - For All You Have Left

I rest my feet against the wooden railing on my little balcony and sit back in my Adirondack chair. The chair was a gift to me from my grandpa. He made it himself and gave it to me when I got my first place back in college.

I’m alone now. It’s just me and the warm summer sun and a little, black spider crawling down a far rung in the railing. I’d freak out if I saw it inside, but I don’t mind it so much out here. I watch it scurry across the painted wood, avoiding tiny roadblocks that I can’t see. The spider reminds me of my grandpa’s farm. There were always spiders there — spiders and mice and hay and tall grass and endless games of hide and seek. I think about those days when we were all just kids sometimes. And sometimes, I think about them so hard that I feel as if I’m there — in an open field with grass up to my waist and nothing but hours and hours before the summer sun goes down…

“James, you’re on Hannah’s team,” Andrew says.

“But I was on Hannah’s team last time,” James protests. “You said I could be on Logan’s team this time.”

Hannah sends James her most serious look — the look of death.

“Like I want to be on your team, little squirt,” Hannah says, piercing James with her narrowed eyes. “Andrew, why do you always get to pick the teams anyway?”

She turns her attention to Andrew.

“I’m the oldest,” she continues. “I should pick, and I pick not to be on that little squirt’s team. He’s awful at this game.”

“I’ll be on his team,” I say. “I’ll be on James’s team.”

James is little. He can barely see over the grass. And he’s slow, and he talks a lot. Hannah’s right; he’s not really very good at this game. But I feel bad for him.

“No,” Andrew shouts. “I’ve picked the teams. It’s already done. Hannah’s with James. You’re with me, Logan.”

Everyone’s quiet.

“Fine,” Hannah puffs. “But this is the last time, Andrew, or I’m not playing anymore.”

Andrew smiles proudly. James looks dejected but satisfied enough.

“Okay,” Andrew says. “You guys count to sixty. Me and Logan are gonna go hide.”

Andrew grabs my hand and takes off. I’m jolted forward, but I don’t fall because Andrew has my hand and he’s pulling me along. We run for a few seconds, but then suddenly, he stops and catches me as I almost fly face-first toward the ground.

“And no peeking,” he yells back at Hannah and James. “And don’t let James count.”

“Nine, ten, eleven,” Hannah shouts.

Andrew looks at me and smiles before we take off again. I wonder why he smiles. He must have a really good hiding place in mind.

We run and we run. We run across the field, cutting a jagged line through the tall grass. And every once in a while we backtrack and take a different way. I know Andrew does this to throw Hannah off. I feel pieces of the green stalks slide across my bare arms and legs as we flatten paths in the grass. It tickles my skin.

“Andrew, where are we going?” I ask, finally.

“The barn,” he says.

My grandpa’s farm is full of hiding places. We’ve hid in that old barn a million times.

“They’ll find us there,” I say.

“No, they won’t.”

I keep running, since I’m still attached to his hand, until we get to the barn and squeeze through a little space in a cracked, wooden door that reads Black Angus Farms in old, faded letters across its front. I always imagine the letters being bright and pretty — the way they must have been a long, long time ago.

It’s musty inside the barn — dusty and full of big, sticky cobwebs. It looks like what I think an old dungeon would look like. I’d never be caught dead in here alone.

“Come on,” Andrew says, pulling me along.

He runs to the other end of the barn and ducks his head when he gets to an old cattle chute.

“Watch your head,” he calls back at me.

I duck my head under the wood and metal and let him pull me through.

We stop at the little, wooden slats that climb the wall to the hayloft.

“Up here.” He reaches for a slat high above his head.

“Andrew, they’ll find us up there. It’s the first place they’ll look.”

“No, they won’t,” he says.

My shoulders slump, but after a second, I follow him up the ladder. And no sooner do I get a couple rungs off the barn floor, it starts raining dust and hay.

“Andrew, you’re getting dirt in my hair!”

“What?” He angles his face down to look at me. “Oh. I can’t help it. It’s from the ladder.”

I give him my best unhappy face. Then, I squeeze my eyes shut and lower my head as I climb the rest of the way through the dirt rain.

Andrew’s already standing on the wooden floorboards of the hayloft when my head pops up through the hole in the floor.

“Jeez, Little Logan, you’re a mess. What happened to you?” he asks, laughing.

I stop and narrow my eyes at him.

“You happened, Andrew.”

He holds out his hand.

I crawl up another rung in the ladder. I think twice before giving him my hand, but I eventually do, and he yanks me toward him. The force of his pull sends me flying forward, and before I know it, I land with all fours onto the hard, wood boards.

“You okay?” he asks, bending down to me.

I look up at him. He looks weird all of a sudden — like he actually cares.

“Yeah,” I say, standing up and brushing the dust and the hay out of my clothes and hair.

“Okay,” he says. “Over here.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me forward again. He pulls me to the corner of the barn and then slides behind a big, round hay bale.

“I’m not going back there,” I protest.

“Come on. Don’t be a scaredy-cat.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and crossing my arms across my chest. “There are probably mice back there and spiders.”

I really am scared. I really don’t want to go back in that dark hole with all those creepy-crawly things.

Andrew puts out his hand, and his whole face changes.

“There are no mice,” he says, gently. “And I’ll protect you from the spiders.”

I don’t know why he’s being so nice all of a sudden.

“Come on,” he says, in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard come out of Andrew Amsel.

I think about it for a couple more seconds. Then, I loosen one arm from around my chest and slowly hold my hand out to his.

His face lights up as he takes my hand.

I let Andrew lead me back behind the big bale, and together we crawl into a tiny corner and lower ourselves to the wood floor until our knees bend and press against our chests. It’s dark except for a little ray of light that’s pouring in through a hole in the wood on the side of the barn. And I’m still afraid of the mice and the spiders. I watch the dust dance in that little ray of light, hoping that Hannah and James hurry up and find us soon, until I feel Andrew squeeze my hand.

“Don’t be scared,” he whispers.

I take my gaze off the dust and the light and find Andrew’s eyes. I can barely see them. They match the darkness around us.

He smiles, and it seems like a real smile this time. I look down because it kind of scares me too. What if he’s been bitten by one of these spiders and he’s going crazy or something?