Laura Miller - By Way of Accident

“Don’t be sad,” I say, pullin’ her in close. I promised myself I’d be brave for her even though I feel like kickin’ and screamin’ and beggin’ her not to go. “I brought you somethin’.”

She pulls away, and I watch her lips start to twitch up.

“Hold on,” I say, leaving her side.

I run over to the shade where he’s been sleepin’ all mornin’, and I scoop the little furball up and walk him back to her.

“River!” Her eyes widen and so does her smile. “What?”

“It’s a dog. Well, it’s a puppy. You said you didn’t have one.”

“Oh my gosh!” She takes the black and brown ball from my arms and squeezes it to her chest. “I love him. I love him. I love him,” she sings. But then she stops suddenly and looks up at me. “Is it a him?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

She closes her eyes and buries her face into the puppy’s face. I think she likes him.

“You think your parents will let you keep him? My mom says we can keep him if you…”

“No,” she says, stopping me. “I love him.” She presses her lips to the puppy’s head.

“Good.” I breathe out a smile. I guess that means she’s keepin’ him no matter what.

“He’s got big ears.” She giggles, picks up one of his ears and holds it straight out. “What kind is he?”

“A coonhound,” I say. “They’re the best kind.”

She smiles wide and goes to pettin’ its head.

“I thought it could be your Missouri thing,” I say.

She stops pettin’ and slowly looks up at me through those long eyelashes of hers. “Thank you, River.”

“Aw, it’s nothin’.” I kick a rock around the dirt with my foot. “Do you know where you’re goin’ yet?” I ask.

I notice her chest rise. “Illinois,” she breathes out.

It’s quiet for a second, except for a few random squeaks from the puppy. “Well, that’s not that far,” I lie. Illinois might as well be China.

She looks up at me and then casts her eyes down to the grass and the dirt. “I’ll lose you,” she whispers.

“What?” I ask. I walk closer to her and gently lift her chin so that I can see her pretty eyes.

“I’ll move, and I’ll never see you again,” she says, before I can say anything else.

“No,” I say.

She nods. “You’ll disappear eventually. Everything and everyone always does.” I watch her squeeze the puppy tighter against her body. He squirms a little and then licks her neck.

“No, Brooke. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’ll come see you.”

She looks up at me — really looks into my eyes this time — and I can tell she wants to smile but just can’t find the heart maybe.

“But you can’t drive.”

“Well, not yet,” I admit.

Her eyes turn down, and I take her hand and lead her to the bank. Then I pull her down to the ground with me. The puppy struggles and eventually finds his way out of Brooke’s arms. He quickly takes a liking to a little stick, plops down and starts chewin’ on it.

“I’ll find a way,” I say, regaining her attention. “And I can call you.”

“But it’ll be long distance. My parents will never let us talk on the phone every day. I’m already bringing a puppy home.” Her gaze travels to the puppy again.

I sit there and think about it for a while, until something comes to me. “Then, we’ll write.”

“Letters?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’ll write letters — like they did in the olden days.”

She lowers her head and laughs to herself. It sounds so good to hear her laugh. And it hits me hard that I won’t be able to hear her laughter soon. “I’ll write to you, Brooke.”

Her eyes return to mine, and she’s got a big smile on her face. And with that, she leans into me and interlocks her fingers in mine. I feel my heart start poundin’ when she plants a kiss on my cheek. “Okay,” she says.

The puppy growls a little puppy growl, and our attentions go to him. He’s fightin’ with the stick now — pawin’ at it and bitin’ it.

“I’m gonna call him Winnie-the-Pooh,” she says.

I watch her as she watches the puppy.

“Is that weird?” she asks, her stare grazin’ mine.

I shake my head. “Naw.” And I try to hold back a smile.

“Good,” she says, before she stands, dusts off her backside, pauses and then takes a runnin’ leap into the creek. And a splash later, she’s soaked — clothes and all — from head to toe.

“And we’ll write,” she yells back up at me from the water. She has a big smile on her face. “Me and Winnie-the-Pooh, we’ll write to you.”

Her hair is wet and darkened, and she’s squinting her eyes to squeeze out the water. I just drink her in, until I can’t take not being next to her anymore. Then I take off toward the water myself. Another big splash, and I’m scoopin’ her up into my arms. She giggles and lets me hold her little wet body against mine. And soon her laughter fades, and our eyes lock. I lean into her and go to kiss her when all of a sudden, there’s a loud honking above our heads, and we both look up. A flock of Canada geese have their wings spread out wide, and they’re diving right at us. I force my eyes shut, turn my face down and squeeze Brooke closer to my body to try to shield her. The last thing I want is a damn bird landin’ on us.

“River, look!”

I slowly lift my head and open my eyes to Brooke stretching her hands to the sky. She’s laughin’ again as the breeze made by the geese drifts over us. And within seconds, the birds drop their webbed feet and skid across the water a couple feet before they land. About twenty of them land all around us and then keep on swimmin’ down the creek. They don’t even seem to be fazed at all by our presence. I guess they’ve just gotten so used to us bein’ here.

“Life passes you by when your eyes are closed,” she sings.

I look at her. She’s just got the widest, most beautiful smile on her face. I don’t think she realizes she has showed me more life than I’ve ever known. It makes me want to kiss her. So, I lean in, and I kiss her.

There’s a slight pause when our kiss breaks before her lips part. “What was that for?”

“Because,” I say. “Because you’re not afraid of anything, because you’re pretty, because I love you.”

Her lips find their way back together, and I can’t tell if she wants to frown or smile — if she’s sad or happy. But then she leans in, hovers over my mouth for a few breaths and then presses her lips to mine again.

I’m grinning by the time she pulls away, but I can’t help but ask: “What was that for?”

She lifts her shoulders and then lets them fall. “Because it’s Saturday.”

My eyes are stuck in hers. I don’t want her to leave. “I already miss you,” I say, and I let my forehead fall onto hers. I ain’t never been this comfortable with anyone before.

“But I’m still here,” she whispers. “And a part of me will always be here.”

I meet her stare. And she must see the question in my eyes because she turns her face to the sky. “I’ll be in the wind.” Then she levels her eyes on mine. “I’ll always be here.”

I’d rather her be here like she is now, but there’s somethin’ in her words that makes me feel better. I know tomorrow I’ll wake up and all I’ll have is her quartz heart and my invisible memories to hold onto. So for now, I hold onto her. I pull her close, and I hold her tight. And for the first time, I think I grasp the concept of havin’ your whole life ahead of you — simply because for the first time, I want to plan one with someone. But with that, for the first time, I’m also wonderin’ what that life entails and if that life includes Brooke Sommerfield. Yet all the while, the only thing I really care about is makin’ sure it does.