Laura Miller - By Way of Accident

I fiddle with the bill of my cap. I don’t know why I do it; it just feels right. The truth is I ain’t never given the marryin’ thing much thought — well, past the decidin’ that I’m just not doin’ it part. But I really can’t imagine Brooke takin’ away my freedom. I’ve been havin’ the time of my life ever since she showed up. Maybe somethin’ is just wrong with Uncle Joe. Come to think of it, I’ve never questioned anything he’s ever done — including the one year he made a golf cart into a portable hunting blind and drove that contraption all around the woods for two days straight lookin’ for deer. Why did I never question that?

“River?”

My eyes catch on hers. Maybe it’s about time I start questionin’ my uncle’s advice.

“I’d marry you,” I blurt out.

She just stares at me for a few heartbeats, then stands, dusts off her backside and starts down the little dirt path along the creek bank.

I sit there like a bullfrog on a log, until I realize I should probably breathe. I suck in a breath and just watch her walkin’ away from me. Does she want me to follow her? Did I make her mad? I’m frozen and wordless until I notice somethin’ strange.

“Hey,” I call out after her. “There’s a Kansas City Royals emblem on the back of your shirt.”

She doesn’t stop walkin’. “Yeah,” she calls back to me over her shoulder. “And there’s one on the front too.”

I’m speechless again and for no real reason, except for the fact she doesn’t seem the least bit ashamed of her choice of shirt. It takes a minute, but eventually somethin’ comes to me. “I just ain’t never seen anybody wear a shirt like that.”

She stops and gives me a funny look, then starts walkin’ again. I follow after her this time.

“People are Cardinals fans around here. Don’t you like the Cardinals?” I ask once I catch up to her.

“Mmm,” she hums. “No.”

I freeze. And for a moment I actually wonder if I’m crossin’ some kind of line hangin’ out with this girl. My dad always warned me about gettin’ into anything bad.

She must notice me stop because she stops too and eyes me up and down once. “You comin’?”

Well, hell, this can’t be that bad, right? It’s not like she kills puppies for fun or anything — I hope. It’s only a shirt and some misguided loyalty to some god-awful team. But I’m not gonna lie, her morals are in question from here on out.

I catch back up to her and notice she wasn’t lyin’; the same damn ugly emblem that’s on the back of her shirt is also on the front too. How did I not notice that before?

She catches me lookin’ at her chest, and immediately I toss my eyes to the ground and nervously refit my cap over my hair.

“You like baseball?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m a pitcher.”

She just smiles at me, and we’re both quiet again.

“It’s my Kansas thing,” she says, breaking the silence.

I slowly lift my head and give her a funny look.

“The Royals,” she explains. “I take something from every state I’ve ever lived in. It makes me feel like I’m home everywhere I go — because I’m not really sure where home is exactly, you know?”

I nod my head even though I don’t really know. I’ve always known where home is for me. It’s right here; it always has been. “So the Royals are your Kansas thing?”

She shows off a wide grin, revealing her straight, white teeth — no braces.

“You do know they’re from Missouri, right?” I can’t help but ask.

She shrugs her shoulders. “I know, but if you’re from Kansas, you’re a Royals fan.”

I just furrow my brows. “Couldn’t you have just named your dog Toto or somethin’?”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“You don’t have a dog?” I know I sound surprised. Every kid should have a dog. I gnaw on my bottom lip. She just shakes her head.

“Well, then,” I go on anyway, “what’s your Nebraska thing?”

“The Huskers…and steak. We ate steak every other night when we lived there. It’s like it grows on trees or something.”

She laughs, and this time, I just nod. The steak part doesn’t sound half bad, but this girl literally grew up on the wrong side of the tracks when it comes to sports teams. I almost pity her.

“And Iowa?”

“I call soda pop . I know it’s soda, but I’ve retrained myself to call it pop.”

I laugh. This girl is somethin’.

“So what are you takin’ from Missouri then?” I immediately cringe at my words. I don’t want her takin’ anything because that would mean she’d have to be goin’ somewhere else.

She finds my eyes and just smiles the sweetest smile. “I don’t know yet.”

Then I watch her climb onto a big flat rock, look out onto the creek and then sit down before patting a spot on the rock next to her. I sit down, and for the first time, I notice a mist of little freckles on her shoulder — and on her other shoulder too — nowhere else from what I can tell, just on her shoulders.

“They’re from the sun,” she says, eyeing me with those green eyes. She must have caught me lookin’. “There’s nothing I can do about them.”

I feel my eyebrows squish together. “Why would you wanna do somethin’ about ‘em?”

She shrugs her shoulders.

“I like them,” I say. And I do like them. On her shoulder closest to me, there’s a pattern of little freckles that reminds me of the constellation my grandpa’s always pointin’ out to me. It’s like he only knows one. Aquarius.

She smiles bashfully. “You like them?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “They’re like bees and honey.”

“What?” she asks.

“Like bees and honey,” I repeat. “They go together; they fit you.”

She sends me a curious stare.

“It’s a good thing,” I assure her.

Her eyes fall from mine, and she giggles to herself. Hearin’ her giggle makes me want to do somethin’ I’ve never done.

“Brooke.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

She stops and squares her shoulders up to me. Then she gives me a half-questioning, half-silly look and then stands up again and starts walkin’. I don’t think that’s an answer necessarily, so I get up and follow after her.

“I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend before,” she says so softly I almost don’t hear her.

“That’s okay. I haven’t either.”

She stares me down until I break and smile, then she playfully shoves my shoulder. “Naw,” I say, “I ain’t never been anyone’s boyfriend either.”

She stops walkin’, and her face turns soft again. “Okay.”

“Okay, you will?” I ask.

She nods. “Okay, I will. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

I wanna do my happy dance or pump my fist in the air or shout somethin’ really loud, but I just try to play it cool instead with a simple smile.

“But that means you might have to marry me someday,” she says before she takes off walkin’ again.

I just stand there and think about what she said. Marrying Brooke doesn’t sound half bad. In fact, it doesn’t sound bad at all. It actually sounds pretty darn good.

“I ain’t got a problem with that,” I say, workin’ to catch up to her again.

“Good,” is all I hear her say. And we keep walkin’ down that little dirt path, side by side. And I just smile—‘cause life doesn’t get any better than this. In fact, I’d find out soon enough that that very moment with Brooke would be one of the greatest highs of my life. But then, I’d also find out that with every high, there must come a low. And in that low, I’d learn that as much as one heart can feel great joy, that same heart can feel just as much sadness.