Laura Miller - By Way of Accident

“River!”

I start runnin’ toward her because I think somethin’s wrong. But when I get to her, she’s smilin’.

“Look at all the flowers,” she exclaims.

I stop and look at the little field covered in daisies. It’s just a small patch of earth, and it’s always been this way — always been covered in the white and yellow flowers about this same time of year.

“Where do you think they all came from?”

I shrug my shoulders. “They’ve always just been here. My grandpa said that Johnny Appleseed put them here because he ran out of apple seeds.”

She laughs, but she keeps her eyes on the field for a little while longer before takin’ off runnin’. She gets to the center of the field. Then she plants herself in the middle of all those flowers.

“Come on, Riv. Be a daisy with me.”

I just shake my head. This girl’s wild — in a larger than life kind of way — but I think I love her. I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about anyone before — the wild or the love part. It feels kind of heavy, but it also makes my heart kind of dance a little.

I make my way over to her. And when I reach her, I lie down next to her little frame and let the quiet and the blue sky take us both away.

“River?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s your happy?”

“My what?”

“Your happy?” she asks. “What’s the one thing that makes you happy — every time?”

She tilts her face my way. There are daisies and green grass pressed under her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it,” I say.

She smiles at me and then returns her gaze to the sky. “Mine’s the sky.”

“The sky?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s always doing something different — always holding onto something — whether it’s snow or sun or secrets.”

“Secrets?” I ask.

I watch her make a box with her fingers and her thumbs. Everything this girl does works to captivate me somehow. I hang onto every move she makes.

The colorful bands around her wrists bunch together as she puts the box she’s made with her hands to her face and looks through it. “The sky goes on forever,” she says. “And it holds stars and moons and planets.” She lets her hands fall back down to her sides, and then she turns her face to mine again. “There’s a lot of stuff we don’t know about the universe. That’s a lot of secrets it knows that we don’t.”

I smile at her. “I suppose so.”

She’s quiet then, and I am too — for a couple beats at least.

“River,” she says, quickly breaking the peaceful silence.

“Yeah?” Immediately, I can tell somethin’s wrong. I always thought my mom was magic or somethin’, but I guess you really can just sense when somethin’ is wrong in a person sometimes.

“I’m moving, River.”

I sit up fast and force out the breath I had been holdin’ since she first said my name. “But you just got here?”

She looks at me with a set of sad, pretty eyes and then tugs at my arm with her hand. I do what she silently asks, and I lie back down next to her.

It’s the words I knew would come someday. I tried to remind myself every day that they would come — so I’d be prepared. I just wish they hadn’t come today — or ever. I just figured out I loved her, and I haven’t even got the chance to tell her yet.

“When?” I ask.

I watch her shoulders rise and then gradually fall. “A couple weeks maybe.”

“A couple weeks?” I blurt out.

Her green and gray eyes just stare back at me. They’re sad, but they’re also strong-like, if eyes can be strong.

“That’s awful fast,” I say. I wish we had more time. I wish time were all we had.

“That’s how it always is.” She lets go of a sigh, while my eyes find a big, fat cloud and follow it out of sight.

“You can’t convince your parents to stay?” I ask, looking her way.

“I’ve tried.” Her lips fold into a frown.

“Well, maybe I could talk to them. Maybe I could tell them how nice it is here.”

“It won’t change anything, River. It’s just the way it is.”

It’s just the way it is? I’m quiet then. I really don’t know what to say. I don’t want her to go. There’s got to be somethin’ I can do.

“I’m gonna miss you, River.”

“No.” I shake my head. “No, Brooke, just because you leave doesn’t mean I’m never gonna see you again.” It can’t mean that.

I watch her draw a breath and quickly force it out. Her chest rises and then falls as she does it. Then she leans into me. I can feel her hot breaths on my ear. Somethin’ fiery and prickly runs up my spine and makes my heart start racin’.

“I love you, River,” she whispers. She pulls away but keeps her eyes lowered.

“Brooke,” I say. She doesn’t move, so I take my hand and rest it on the side of her face and gently force her to look at me. “I love you too.”

She smiles a sad smile again and then buries her face into my chest. My breath hitches for no real reason, except for the fact that now her body is pressed against mine. I hesitate before puttin’ my arm around her because I’m tryin’ to think if that’s what I’m supposed to do or not. What do they do in the movies?

I feel her pullin’ on the end of my tee shirt, and then she goes to twistin’ the cotton around her fingers. It pulls the shirt tight and exposes a piece of my stomach to the light. And soon, I can feel her soft skin touchin’ that piece of my skin, and it sends shivers down my spine. And I say to hell with what I’m supposed to do, and I just do what feels right — I put my arm around her, and I squeeze her tight.

I’m the happiest boy in the world being this close to her, feelin’ like we belong to each other. But I’m also the saddest — because now, it’s as if somebody has just turned over one of those damn sand timers. I just found her, and now, when the sand runs out — which is always too soon — I’ve gotta let her go.

I hold her there for a few minutes, a few hours, days maybe — I’m not sure. I hold her until the clouds gather in dark waves above us and even then, I’m scared to say anything. I don’t want to let her go. I’m scared that with a word, this moment will disappear forever — that she’ll disappear forever.

“Brooke.”

She nudges her head into my chest.

“I think it’s about to rain,” I say.

She tilts her face up at me and then up at the sky. And instantly, a thin smile works its way into her expression. It’s that sad one — the only smile she’s got that breaks my heart.

“Let it rain,” she softly says before she settles back into the muscles in my chest.

I squeeze her closer and look back up at the heavens. The clouds are even darker and lower than they were only a minute ago.

“Let it rain,” I whisper, repeating her words, almost darin’ the heavens to open up and do their best.

And they do. Within minutes, one drop turns into two, and then two turns into ten and then ten into hundreds. But like the daisies around us, we don’t move. We just stay where we’re planted, and we take the rain.

“It’s so cold!” Brooke sings after a few moments. She rolls over onto her back but stays resting on my arm. And she stares up into the sky, eyes closed, mouth open, laughin’ the whole time. I watch her catch the rain on her tongue, and I promise myself that I won’t lose this girl. No matter what, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her. Besides, my heart aches for her so much already; I don’t know what it would do without her.

Big drops soak my hair and roll down my cheeks. I wipe my eyes with my free hand and notice Brooke is smilin’ at me. Her clothes are clingin’ to her skin. Little goose bumps are now fillin’ up her arms, but it looks as if she has no plans to run for shelter anytime soon. I pull her closer to me and press my lips against her forehead, and I taste the salty raindrops on my tongue. She settles back into my chest and wraps her arm around my waist. Then she goes to tracin’ little circles on my arm. I love the way her wet fingers glide against my skin. It’s calming somehow, yet exhilarating, and it forces me to suck in a rushed breath. And I notice the air is soaked with the smell of rain now. With the breath, I taste its dampness. And here we lie — just two daisies among the daisies — as the cool summer rain washes over every piece of our warm bodies. And soon, a little thought comes to me and burrows deep into my heart. And all of a sudden, I know what my happy is. It’s Brooke Sommerfield. She’s my happy.