our last summer. (e.m)

nineteen: his sunday best.

sometime during my adolescence,
i developed a nasty habit.
i found that in any situation that involved emotional outpourings or adult-like exchanges,
that i'd trace the moment over and over in my mind.
i'd think about what words to say,
how to say them,
what the other person might say and how they might look saying it.
i thought that if i planned any given important conversation,
it'd be easier for me to deal with.
the moment the conversation came to though,
those words would leave me.
they were cemented into my brain as nothing but a possibility;
something i could have said,
could have asked,
could have solved.
instead of being productive like i'd imagined so heavily,
i became mute.
nothing more than a girl who nodded her head and kept her mouth shut.
and after every conversation,
i'd think to myself:
what the hell was that?
why didn't you say this?
why didn't you apologize for that?
why couldn't you just speak?
how could i combat this?
to take the words in my head and bring them forth from my tongue?
i fear i'll spend the rest of my life in my head,
forever unable to voice what's stirring up there.
i think these things as i entered through the front door,
where i found that my father was still asleep.
which was unusual,
considering he's always up by this time.
i figured he was sitting in his room avoiding me,
avoiding the conversation we'll need to have.
we are more alike than i've ever realized.
i laugh at the harsh fact now.
instead of celebrating the things we have in common,
like the curve of our eyes,
the same shaped bridges of our nose,
the length of our limbs,
i find noteworthy ignominy in the traits i've picked up that are hardly worth mentioning.
most girls my age get to brag:
my dad gave me his company to run!
my dad gave me his good heart, kind soul!
my dad gave me a car!
all i've gotten from my father is a habit of picking my lips,
rocking on my feet when i'm nervous,
and the inclination to hide into myself when conflict arises.
at least i got a stomachful of his clam cakes in the process.
it may not be plausible to assume my father might show me to the front door in light of my recent confession.
but it is also not plausible to think that just because we cried together,
that he is ready to step back into fatherhood.
the moment i enter the bedroom,
i dial my grandma.
"hello?"
she answers,
her southern drawl bringing warmth to my chest.
i smile like i always do and return,
"hey, grandma."
"how've you been, honey?"
i take in a deep breath before admitting,
"i told him. well...he found out and we talked."
"i know, i know. don't be mad at me, sug, but i accidentally told him. you know me and my big mouth!"
had it been anyone else,
i might've boiled over with rage for such carelessness.
but it's my grandma.
there isn't a harmful bone in her body,
much less one that's designed to humiliate me and out my secrets.
she's nearing her eighties.
if she says it was accidental,
then that's exactly what it was.
"it's okay, grandma. i know you didn't mean to."
"do you forgive me?"
i soften at her caring nature.
how worried she sounds that i couldn't find it in me to forgive her.
my grandma could never do any wrong.
where that gene lost itself upon her daughter?
i might spend the rest of my life wondering.
"yes, grandma. you're okay."
i hear a breath of relief leave her lungs from the other end of the phone.
"i really am sorry, hun...how'd it go?"
"okay, i guess. he was kind of upset i didn't tell him but then we talked a little bit. still a little unclear on what happens next."
the sounds of creaking floorboards bring light to my fathers wakening.
still,
i won't approach him until he's had more time.
a part of me wonders if i'm purposely putting this off,
but what does that matter?
let the man have his coffee,
have his breath of fresh morning air.
what happened will not change.
this conversation will still need to be had eventually.
what's a few more minutes?
"it'll all work out, y/n. you're a special girl and your daddy knows that. whatever jesus decides, know you can always come home to me."
"i know. thank you."
i hear her kiss the other end of the phone a few times,
something of her specialty,
then we exchange goodbyes.
now all that i'm left to do is sit back on my bed and count my breaths.
just until my father calls me down and forces himself through the painful conversation.
this allows me time to think about none other than the man in which i was created for.
i think about a long, loving future with eddie.
the days in which i'll come home to him after long hours of tedious work to be relived by his fingertips,
whether that be in caresses to my skin or a massage to my scalp.
i think about how wonderful it will be to see him come through the front door of the house we've made a home together,
welcoming him with peppered kisses and a meal made from the purest of loves.
whatever he wants,
i'd travel all over the world to get it.
and the best part of all of this?
eddie would do the very same.
i don't have the slightest doubt about this notion.
but hopeful thoughts can only last so long on a brain that's been brought up on nothing more than panic.
to expect the unexpected means assuming the worst;
all to keep my fissured heart from breaking any more than it already has.
i twist the ring on my finger in hopes of reassuring this worried heart of mine.
are eddie and i capable of surviving the curse that's well set in my bloodline?
the idea of us,
of our love,
not surviving makes my chest tight with panic.
my mother and father once thought what they had was love and would last.
they even vowed themselves to each other,
life and death,
sickness and health.
my grandma and her husband,
the very same.
after so many years,
people change.
marriage changes you,
makes you become someone unrecognizable.
the things you once adored and admired about your partner become traits of annoyance;
where you once smiled,
you now sneer.
you figure you've hit the peak of life,
plateaued almost.
so the love dies because your effort comes to an end.
nothing.
nothing.
nothing.
what's left but the ashes of what was once a burning love?
i hurry to dial eddie.
the moment his voice picks up on the other end,
i'm washed over in relief.
"hey clover-over...you okay?"
he asks once he picks up on my heavy breathing.
"yeah...yeah,"
i hurry to answer.
"ah. you just can't live without me, can you?"
i know he's joking,
but i find truth to be laced in with his remark.
"don't worry. i can't live without you, either. it'd be a miserable, dreadful existence."
i giggle into the phone and immediately feel ten times lighter.
"eddie?"
"yes, my love?"
i wrap the cord around my index finger as i whisper,
"will you always like me?"
"like you? i'll spend everyday of my life wanting you, clover-love."
i smile at the way his nickname entwines with another of endearment;
one created for special moments like these.
"you think so?"
"i know so. spent ten years doing it, what's another century?"
i'm smiling hard now,
every worry wiped clean from my palate.
"you always know how to make me feel better."
"you sure you're feeling okay?"
he asks with a set of concern in his tone,
though i can tell he's trying to hide it.
i figured by now he'd understand that both of us are incapable of hiding something from one another.
he's seen through the flesh of my being,
just as i've taken my own glance into his soul.
there will never be a secret held between us again.
"i'm okay. are you?"
"better than ever."
i snicker just to hear his laugh echo from the speaker and settle within me.
"thank you for talking to me. i just...wanted to hear your voice."
"anything for you."
i let the tainted breath that once made my lungs shallow now rush from the part of my lips before i continue speaking,
"i'll see you tonight, eddie munson. think you can you survive without me for just a few more hours?"
"no, i won't! i can't breathe—ow! my heart! send an ambulance!"
he exclaims.
i can see him clutching his chest in all the most dramatic ways from here.
"what ever will we do?"
i ask sarcastically.
"i dunno. suppose you could get out of my head for a few minutes? i might survive then."
"what would i want to do that for?"
i hear him chuckle before he answers my question with his own,
"and what would i want that for, anyways?"
i tell him how excited i am to see him again soon,
only to hear him talk about his much more he loves me.
it's reassuring.
even without having to ask or bring up the topic that once spoiled my mind,
eddie brought a new light to our love.
i can breathe again.
but just when i think i've found my footing,
i'm left it stumble again at the sound of a knock against my door.
my heart races in my sternum.
think about what you want to say and just say it,
i demand.
but the moment the door opens and my father steps in,
every word i've ever known washes away from my tongue and leaves me dry.
"want to talk?"
he asks with a soft smile that looks rather awkward.
"y-yeah,"
i mutter,
sitting up on my bed so he can take a seat.
silence suspends over this difficult duo that is my father and i.
both of us are scrambling for something to say without messing up what we've salvaged.
he is too afraid of stepping on my toes,
whereas i'm afraid of the distance between us.
he could crush my feet for all i care,
just please don't push me away,
i plead silently.
"you know this will always be your home, right?"
i nod,
encouraging him to continue.
"so, would you like to stay? permanently, i mean?"
the question nearly makes my heart burst with relief.
"yes. yes,"
i say more then it's necessary.
but i need him to see how elated i am,
to understand that this opportunity means the world for me and hopefully for him too.
"i can't promise it'll be eventful, living with me. but...but you'll be safe. i can promise that. i will do my best...to be the father you deserved."
what greater moment than this?
my father saving me from drowning in this unforgiving world.
i wrap him into a hug and try to hold back my tears.
what had i been so worried for?
had i really believed he would leave me to my own defenses?
whatever it may have been,
we are making amends now.
that means letting go of the indignation that's burned my hands raw from holding it so long.
"thank you. thank you."
he hugs me back when he whispers,
"i love you, clover girl."
"i love you too, dad."
when i draw back from him,
i see tears glistening in his eyes.
is there a greater love than the one a father has for his daughter?
all my life i'd imagined missing out on it,
but here i am,
experiencing it firsthand.
albeit it is in my mothers absence,
my dads doing a real good job of helping me heal.
i hope i offer the same.
god knows how heartbroken he is to find out the woman he loved isn't that very woman after all.
"eddie says he'll come over soon,"
i bring up with a smile.
my dad brightens with a cheer,
"nice! what day works best?"
"i'm not sure. i can call and ask. when should we plan for?"
he shrugs to calmly offer,
"tonight?"
though my eyebrows raise in shock,
i couldn't think of a better day.
"sure. i'll let him know."
"time to break out the good china."
i watch as he laughs and find that a laugh of my own rings out.
how similar they sound.
the moment our conversation comes to an end,
i decide to skip out on calling.
instead,
i lace my shoes up and make way to eddie's home.
this way we can share this ecstasy as one.
the second my knuckles rap against his front door,
it swings open to reveal an anxious eddie.
like he'd been pacing the floors in anticipation for this moment.
"what happened?"
"i'm home forever, bunson burner."
his shoulder sag with the relief of his worries while a sigh of assuagement leaves his lips.
he wastes no time in gathering me up into his arms.
"oh, my god,"
eddie whispers into the strands of my hair.
they'll collect his words of praise and find way to my memory forever.
it's then the familiar feeling of belonging blooms in my chest,
bringing buoyancy to the words that haze over my mollified mind:
eddie's home.
right in my arms.
"i love you,"
i hear him whisper in what is nothing less than a lovers sigh.
"i love you, i love you, i love you,"
he repeats like this is the first the words have ever left his lips in such a passionate manner;
like i am the first he's told this to,
and he plans to never utter these words to another.
"i love you, eddie. more than life itself."
though this notion may sound like an overstatement,
one said in a time of euphoria,
i know it to be one of truth.
my life since i'd departed from eddie was nothing;
colorless.
everything i'd learned from him,
though settled into my bones,
had meant nothing without him beside me to experience it.
all the things i'd tasted, smelled, loved, and enjoyed by eddie's side became dull;
flattened without him.
since our return,
colors are more to me.
they are brighter and hold more meaning.
every bit of nutrition that sits against my tastebuds melts with the coaxing of this love.
my life is finally mine to reclaim.
and i get to share it,
i get to coexist beside the beating half of my heart.
when eddie finally pulls back to look at me,
i see glistening tears of joy circle his eyes but never spill over.
his smile was shaped by gods hands.
my faith has been restored.
who else could create this special being with such heavenly qualities but a god?
his fingers run themselves down the length of my cheek then gather at my chin,
before he drops them to entwine our hands as one.
"my dad...he wants you to come tonight if you want."
"if i want? you'd kill me dead if i said no."
"kill you dead?"
i echo with a look of amusement.
"that's georgia talk, munson."
"you must be rubbing off on me. next thing i know, i'll be craving the dulcet voice of george strait."
he brings the back of his hand to his forehead in mock-ailment and cries,
"quick, put me out of my misery!"
"oh, you're awful."
i giggle with a shove to his chest.
he takes my wrists into his grasp then gently pulls me closer,
where a tender kiss stripped of any hunger is placed against my lips.
"i'd love to come tonight,"
he says with his lips still lined to mine.
"better put on your sunday best, then."
"what...now?"
i squint my eyes to take a look towards the dying sun,
who colors the sky in bright flames in its final moments of performance.
just until tomorrow morning.
"it's evening, isn't it?"
"i forget you're suburbia. dinner doesn't start 'till eleven in forest hills,"
eddie explains with a nudge to my chin.
i playfully smack his hand away,
which makes him look at me with feigned shock.
though i know it's nothing but jokes,
i still find myself reaching for his embrace.
"do i look dinner-with-dad ready?"
i stand on the tips of my toes to rest a kiss where his sharpened cheekbone lies.
"you look perfect."
"only someone like you could say that and it be true."
"someone like me?"
i ask as his hand entwines itself with mine and our journey home begins.
though this trek will not end in a goodbye,
but instead will begin with pleasantries and dinner;
bringing back the boy who knows my childhood in all its vibrancy.
"beautiful,"
he clarifies with a shy smile blooming across those crimson painted lips of his.
"if anyone knows what it means to look perfect, it's you."
"oh...i'm far from it, love."
he raises his eyebrows to challenge my statement.
"you're right. i'm far closer to perfection than you. me, eddie munson. me."
"yeah, yeah, i get it."
i nudge his shoulder with my own,
but nothing can wipe this smile off of my face.
not even his everlasting sarcasm.
the rest of our walk is filled with nothing but the sounds of gravel crunching beneath the soles of our shoes.
when my front door of the home i've been allowed to claim again comes into view,
eddie stops short.
his hand still into mine,
i stay back by his side while garnering a reason for this gaping look on his face.
"does he know?"
eddie asks before i can say anything.
"know what?"
"that i'm, like, your-your boyfriend."
the word shouldn't be any surprise to me,
yet i find myself burning up at this realization.
he is my boyfriend.
yet the word sounds so insignificant.
eddie is more than just a boyfriend.
that word belongs to simpleminded loves;
ones that are nothing but a simple breeze meant for summer weekends and wintertime nights.
what eddie and i have built together is grand,
like euphoria is what my blood is made of,
like clouds of the heavens is what our souls were cut and sewn together with.
whatever we have is not meant for this simple langue.
what eddie and i are will never be understood by feeble minds and even more unsatisfactory words.
"he knows that i'm in love with you,"
i finally answer.
giving him a moment to break free from his overwhelming nerves,
eddie snakes an arm around my waist to pull me in and say,
"what? boyfriend too big of a word for you?"
"no, idiot. it just...it doesn't fit. you're more than that to me."
he smiles and i see the worry fade from this brown eyes of potted honey.
what had he been worried for?
that i would consider him someone unworthy of my love?
eddie munson may be a man of confidence,
but i'm realizing how deeply his love for me runs.
like in the faintest moment,
the wrong sequence of words,
the wrong movement of his hand,
and i'll decide to discard of him.
that maybe if he can play it off with a suave smile and teasing words,
it'll make it okay.
he has nothing to worry for.
at the off chance of sounding like a girl whose intoxicated on her passion,
know that eddie munson is forever my greatest find.
"i know. but for the sake of those who don't get us, boyfriend should work, right?"
"i guess it's easier than explaining how deeply i consume you."
i throw his words back at him for the sake of a joke,
which is awarded with a laugh and my lucky day,
a kiss.
"eddie munson, that better not be you manhandling my daughter."
the voice rips eddie and i apart.
my father stands on the porch with a wide smile against his lips and a new flush to his cheeks.
he's come alive under my promise to live here;
under the promise of fatherhood.
the chance that was stolen from him has finally returned.
i laugh into the palm of my hand as i watch eddie,
who was once rigid with fear,
slowly thaw out by the sight of my fathers welcoming.
"no manhandling this way, mr. l/n. never."