I Have Loved You

Exordium

We are the beginning of some forever, only waiting for this present time. 

FOUR MONTHS EARLIER

Zara was late. She tore into the student parking lot at the back of the building. It was the last week of her sophomore year. Tensions were at their peak. Finals mixed with cabin fever were a Molotov cocktail of breakdowns and mid-day dance parties in the cafeteria.

She told herself this was the reason she failed to see the motorcycle. And when someone said, "Everything happens in slow motion," well...this didn't. It happened in a single heartbeat. She didn't register the horror of watching the bike and the guy fall over. She didn't see the metal beast trap this stranger under it.

There were so many things she didn't see or know. She didn't know that she had just hit the love of her life in her mom's decrepit old Lexus. She didn't. She failed to see.

Some say you are supposed to run towards the one you love, but she ran from it, from him. Unintentionally, of course. She panicked, reversed her car in an equally swift movement, and hit Heather Price's Jeep Grand Cherokee.

Dumb and cataclysmic things happen when people are under this emotional duress. She blamed her teachers, parents, and sister for putting this much pressure on her. 

"Do well in school." "Did you study?" "Zara, get up. You're going to be late." The last one was just that morning.

Heather yelled something at her, and its tone suggested that Heather took the vulgar route. Zara ignored that, too stressed to respond. She didn't need this in her life—not now.

Until this moment, her year was unscathed. Her reputation was intact.

Given everything that just happened, you would think the accident was the worst part. It wasn't. And it wasn't when she fled the scene of her crimes. No, the most stupid and sophomoric thing she did was parking her mom's paint-faded car cattywampus in the parking lot aisle.

She did not learn the art of blending into the background. All the neon signs in the world pointing, "If you are looking for the idiot who did this, right here." 

She made it to her first class, flushed and about ready to pass out. Still, she made it and sat down right as the bell rang in the hallway. It was an even better stroke of luck; it was almost her last day of school. As long as she avoided Heather, she could slink home without looking back.

She tried to ignore the weight of guilt, but it wouldn't leave her. She dug her nails into the palm of one hand while gripping a number 2 pencil in the other. That day, she broke two pencils—more innocent victims.

She returned to the scene of her crimes. The student parking lot was emptied except for her mother's car, her prized Lexus. It was dented and not worse for the wear.

The car became Zara's sanctuary. She ran to it and jumped into the driver's seat. She prayed it would start. She couldn't bear it if someone saw her now. She eased on the gas and took off towards home, prayers answered for now.

The following day, Zara rode with her sister to school. She slinked into the building, and when she arrived at her locker, she looked down the hall in each direction.

She still failed to see Heather, whose face was now inches from hers. She sneered, "We're going to sue you?"

Zara tried to back away, but her head banged into the locker. "What? Your Jeep has no damage."

She knew that Heather was the type who would sue. She met Heather's parents once at a band concert, and they were nice. She couldn't figure out how Heather was related but trusted her queasy, grumbling gut that this was Heather's bluff.

"Just wait."

Zara backed away, not wanting to find out if there was more. She needed to get through the day. This was the last day, and if Heather's lingering Juicy Couture perfume was the only thing to follow her the rest of the day, she would be fine.

What, then, about the helmet-wearing motorcyclist? The guy in question was a transfer student. She discovered through the wellspring of gossip that his name was Nathaniel, and he transferred from Clarington Prep.

Whispers suggested that his parents had a lawsuit against the academy for religious exclusion. They were Jewish. She didn't know anyone Jewish. She hoped forgiveness was a tenant of their faith.

She also learned that yesterday, the dreadful day, was his first day. Zara was apparently on the welcome committee.

So, when she saw him in the hallway later in the day, she started to believe that the whole thing might be fate. He was gorgeous, with a head full of dark curls that hung loosely, framing his face.

Except it wasn't. He didn't see her and instantly forgave her. He didn't didn't see her at all.

Thankfully, he wasn't seriously injured, though the grist in the mill provided no strong diagnosis as to the type of injury. Was it a bruise or a sprain? It was unreliable on this point.

She wanted to apologize, but another student, Liam, was always there. He helped him get to each class, and she wouldn't apologize in front of Liam.

By the time the day was over, nothing more was seen of Heather. The perfume dissipated, and she was left to daydream about those curls.

Zara could imagine their story playing out with a little house and children playing in the yard by the sea. It must be fate. They would laugh when they retold the story of the day their mom hit their dad with her car.