Retrace the Lines

Before

"Quinn, honey. This is the third time I've seen you at this table. That's quite enough for today," my mother's stern voice rings from above as I attempt to slide another piece of cake onto my plate.

I scrunch my nose and huff. Time to bring out the big guns. I allow my voice to quiver slightly as I respond to her.

"He's so upset, he won't even talk to me. More cake is the only thing I can think of to make him feel better."

Her piercing eyes continue to assess me, but eventually soften with a familiar gaze of pity.

"Fine," she smiles, "just because it's your birthday. Only one more though, I mean it!"

Shaking her head good naturedly, she picks up my plate and hands it to me. I grin with accomplishment and hastily grab it from her before she can change her mind.

As I eagerly walk back to the bench, the back of Josh comes into focus. My heart tightens as I see him hunched over, mindlessly bopping at a helium balloon. As I weave through a rowdy game of tag, I try to plaster a smile onto my face.

Slightly breathless, I eventually slide next to him on the opposite side of the bench.

My plastered smile cracks the moment I see the expression on his face.

"I brought cake," I exclaim proudly.

He takes the plate from me and the corners of his mouth give a feeble quiver in an attempt to smile.

His normally striking green eyes are subdued in the falling dusk. A hard wrinkle sits between his eyebrows as he frowns.

Seeing Josh without his usual smile suddenly makes everything seem a bit too real. I blink furiously as I attempt to banish away the tears threatening to form in my eyes. 

He bops his balloon one more time before untying it from the bench, releasing it into the air above. We stay silent as we watch the balloon become nothing but a little red dot in the sky.

He exhales.

"We can't keep using cake to distract ourselves from the fact that I'm moving, can we?" He refuses to meet my eyes as he gazes out now into the surrounding forest.

I nervously paw at the dirt with my shoe, unable to reply. For weeks we've been ignoring the elephant in the room, unable to confront the reality that we will soon be living in completely different states.

That we will each lose our best friend.

For the last few weeks, Josh has straight up been in denial. When he first told me, he blurted it out, ran out of the room and didn't talk to me for three days.

It was the longest we had ever gone without speaking.

When we saw each other again, he acted like nothing had even happened. I could tell that he wanted to pretend like the move wasn't going to go through, so that's what we did.

"It's ages away, we've got time." He would reassure me.

"Don't even worry about it, I'm sure dad will change his mind and stay here at the firm." He would assert with a forced air of nonchalance.

But what if he doesn't? What if you really leave me?

These were the questions I was never brave enough to ask.

Until now. The last day.

1,212 miles. Even thinking about the distance between Colorado and Ohio makes me feel nauseous. Like he's already gone.

Kindly, his parents extended the move for a couple of days, so that he could be here for my eleventh birthday party. But our time is up.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'll be gone.

I attempt to find something, anything I can say which will make the situation seem less bleak.

My attempt is feeble, as I whisper to him, "I'll write every day."

He turns from the forest back over at me and our eyes meet. My breath quickens, and my eyes move down, focusing on the freckles lightly peppering his cheeks.

"Quinn. Look at me." His voice is soft, almost lost in the background.

I gaze into his eyes and see his face alight with the fierce determination I've witnessed so many times before.

"Of course you'll write. I will too. We'll call, write. Nothing can break up Quinn and Josh." His cheeky grin sparks a flutter in my heart, and I can't help but slowly smile back.

As we sit there, the sun setting through the trees, the laughter of our friends surrounding us, it's hard to imagine living everyday life without him.

When he cautiously places his hand over mine, it's hard to imagine that he won't be here tomorrow, laughing beside me.

As my eyes run over his blonde hair, sporadic and untidy from the soft wind, it's hard to imagine that distance could ever change anything.

Then again... life isn't always how you imagine.