Whirlwind

(23) anniversary

JASPER

***

TWO MONTHS LATER

"Baby!" I hear my girl squealing. I look up in time to see her running towards my truck, hair, bag and hoodie flailing out behind her as she runs like an idiot.

"Hey!" I yell through the open window, leaning sideways awkwardly to open the door for her.

She dives in through the open door and almost slams into me, immediately straddling my lap and kissing me as if it's life or death.

"You're in a good mood," I sigh as her zipper rubs up against mine, the friction causing a certain appendage to harden and make my boxers uncomfortably tight in the space of two seconds.

"You've been gone for four days. I bloody missed you." She kisses me again, a quick peck, but then clambers off me.

I smile as I look into her beautiful eyes, remembering what it's like to get lost in them.

I had been fast falling in love with her, and if I was being honest with myself, I'd been in love with her since I saw her standing in the rain back at the airport. I'd been thinking I'd been in love with her since she patched me up, but after spending these four days apart I knew it was that first day.

And I knew it was time to open up and tell her everything.

***

We'd been together for nearly two months now, and on the request of everyone around us, including my parents and hers, we've just taken a couple of days for ourselves. I didn't like the idea at first, but Libby reminded me we'd only spent one night apart since meeting each other - not including that first week - and that people were starting to think we were joined at the hip. So, for her sake, I reluctantly agreed.

Dad took me up to Charlotte to see Benny's parents whilst Libby spent time at the beach with her friends from her Cult Film class and her roommates. The four-day break was hard, especially given what I was dealing with, but I think it was exactly what each of us needed. It allowed Libby to spend time with friends and it gave me time to be alone with my anger and my grief, as I still hadn't told her about Benny yet.

This weekend was tough though; these weekends always are. It's the anniversary of Benny's death, and every year we go to visit Jules and Paul, Benny's parents, to pay our respects. It's only been two years, but I liked to think my 'tradition' worked: sitting at his headstone with an eight-pack for him, bottle of vodka for me, and getting utterly shit-faced. At least that's what I did last year... But I had a guardian angel this time. Another one.

When Benny died, I was distraught. I didn't eat for weeks, I barely slept due to nightmares and because I was in such a foul mood all the time, I attracted the likes of Ziggy and his group. He left me to it, and didn't call me out whenever I was doing anything wrong. I quite liked that I could impress him with how bad I could be, so I hit rock bottom and then just kept fucking going.

I drank all the time, even though I was underage, I stayed out late, and often didn't come home for days... and then the final straw for my parents was when Dad found out about our joyride in May this year. I'd just finished Junior year and they'd had to deal with my shit for over two years. And enough was enough in his eyes. We hadn't actually stolen the car... we borrowed it... but we had returned it with graffiti and all the windows smashed. We thought it was fun, but that 'fun' earned me almost three months of very close supervision.

So this time I changed my tradition. And when I was allowed an hour on my own with him, I didn't take an eight-pack or a bottle of vodka. Instead, I took my phone and I told him all about Libby and the last two months, showing him pictures. And it was more therapeutic than any bottle could ever be.