Let's Pretend

*A story I wrote for my college Sophomore English Creative Fiction Class - My first ever attempt at writing fiction*

Let’s Pretend

I often wonder what life would have been like if everything went according to plan. That’s the thrill about life I suppose, that one can never expect the unexpected. I try to believe in the philosophy that everything happens for a reason, but on this winter day a blanket of nostalgia wraps around me, and reminds me of his warmth.

♢

I’ll never forget the first time I met eyes with him, I drowned in those luminous blue pools. I was only six and he was eight, but his front left tooth was missing so he looked younger. At first, he didn’t want anything to do with me. He probably wouldn’t remember, but when my ball first rolled into his yard he kicked it back so aggressively he only missed my head by a hair. It wasn’t until I walked up to ask if he wanted to play that his face softened and my heart dove into those eyes. It was a brisk Autumn day, but warmth emanated from within him and I felt a familiarity like I had arrived home.

Fantasy became reality with him, and together we conquered the world. His imagination blossomed with ideas and everyday held a new adventure.

“Let’s pretend we’re on an African safari!” he shouted through his gapped tooth smile. In the sunlight his golden hair gleamed like tinsel underneath his Indiana Jones hat. We would dress in all khaki, hop in his electric toy Jeep, and using binoculars we roamed the neighborhood searching for alley cats.

Our favorite game of pretend was house and we had a grand wedding reception. We became the proud parents of a beautiful stuffed Simba lion, and as parents he and I would pretend to bicker because that’s all I knew of marriage, but we always hugged it out. We grew to be as close as our houses, side by side companions.

July afternoons I’d scratch myself bleeding from crawling through the dewy grass to collect bugs with him. The cicadas serenaded us as we dug for worms and burrowed for beetles. I nicknamed him Hopper because he scurried through the fields so fast, and he called me Bugs because he said I was as pretty as a ladybug. The creamsicle sky would set to the darkest hue of blue and we’d lay and talk for hours as we studied the stars above us. We did our best to avoid being home. Like the crescent moon peeking through the night sky, he was my sliver of hope in all of the darkness.

♢

The fresh smell of roasting coffee waltzes through my kitchen and snaps me back into the present.This isn’t the first time I’ve been entranced by nostalgia, and I’d say it’s my hardwork's biggest nemesis. I quickly shuffle my papers together to reorganize them, I feel the dreadful slit of paper swipe across my skin and quickly grab a napkin as a bead of blood forms at the tip of my finger. The crimson color is familiar.

♢

In spring, carnations bloomed in the field near our houses and faded into abstract pigments as we whizzed by on our bikes. My mind has a tendency to wander, so I wasn’t prepared for the sharp turn that was in our route. I hurled over my handlebars and skidded on my knees and elbows across the gritty asphalt. Rocks embedded my skin like shells in sand and without hesitation he abandoned his bike to rescue me. Salty tears poured down my face and stung the blood that dripped down my leg. He tossed me over his shoulders and carried me back to his house to play nurse. I sucked on an Otterpop while he bandaged me up, but I remember not even the ice could cool me from the heat I felt beneath his fingertips.

As we grew older we grew apart. He went on to play football in high school and that consumed the majority of his time, but I was still lucky enough to see him on the weekends. He always kept his window unlocked for me for the fateful nights when Dad would come home having had exceeded his very high tolerance, and I would sneak out to seek sanctuary in the comfort of his arms.
At school we took on our own stereotypical and different personas. He was the confident and popular quarterback, and I took up theatre and acquired a whole new group of friends that helped me step out of my comfort zone. Besides hanging out with the drama kids I didn’t do much, and after seeing how easily alcohol consumed Dad, I had no interest in partying. I eventually scored the role of the lead in the school play, and knowing that Dad wouldn’t even consider leaving the house for such an event, I asked the one person I could lean on for support. He said he’d be there and I couldn’t wait to see his reaction after the show. I was always in the bleachers cheering him on at his games so, it was finally my time to shine. The stage lights dimmed, and as soon as the house lights flickered on I dashed down into the audience and searched for a familiar face. The rest of the cast jumped joyously into the arms of their friends and family, but nobody stood waiting for me. My castmates and random parents complimented my performance, but their words were a hushed buzz ringing in my ears as tears welled up in my eyes. I went home that night and laid like stone in my bed as the weight of disappointment crushed me. There was no moon that night.

The next day I saw him in the hall laughing and throwing punches with his buds. I felt the weight of each blow in my gut. All through high school I felt anonymous. Even my moment in the spotlight was dimmed because all I have as evidence of my performance is a tarnished memory. It almost seemed like perfect timing that Dad was being relocated for work, and within twenty-four hours my whole world was inverted.

Although we moved away within a month, it took a long time to move on. I held on to our memories like dirt under my fingernails. I kept a close group of friends because I feared betrayal. As the years went on I thought about reconnecting or at least reaching out for an explanation, but my dignity wouldn’t allow it. I thought, Why would I reach out to someone who clearly didn’t want to be a part of my life?

♢

My growling stomach snaps me back into reality and I glimpse down at the drips of blood that decorate my psychology notes. The blood bubble on my finger is now crusted over like a crimson rain drop. I swear I’d be a straight A student if I focused half as much on my assignments as I do sulking in nostalgia. I saunter over to the kitchen and absentmindedly stare at the box of Saltines and canned beans in my pantry. I don’t get paid for another week, so, I jot down a simple list and head to the nearest supermarket. I just need to grab the essentials: milk, eggs, and bread. All I have to do is stay focused long enough to navigate through the herds of people clogging the aisles. I repeat to myself milk, eggs, bread, millk, eggs, bread, milk, eggs-

“Alex?”

My name drips from his voice like honey, and as I turn around my eyes lock with his. I’m mesmerized and before I realize it, I stumble and crash into a magazine rack. The editions whirl around me decorating the aisle like confetti and my cheeks burn while I frantically group together the issues. He approaches me flashing that same dazzling smile I remember, and reaches out his right hand.

“Finally, some good news!” he chuckles as he lifts me from the paper flurry.

“Ryan…” It’s all I can muster to say. I am in shock, disbelief even. The universe must be playing some kind of twisted joke on me, Ashton Kutcher you can come out now! “What are you doing here?” I ask, mustering a half smile.

“I’m just on this side of town cleaning out my mom’s old place, you remember over on Cherry Avenue?”

“Yeah, I think I remember..." I mutter awkwardly. "That’s nice of you to help her out.”

“Well, unfortunately it’s kind of my obligation now that she’s gone,” he says looking down.

“Oh… I’m so sorry,” I pause, remembering his rocky relationship with his mother, “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine...she was really sick so she’s in a better place now. It’s just tough going through all the old memories back at the house, ya know? I actually was thinking about you earlier because I found some of our old photos!”

“You didn’t! I have to see them!” my enthusiasm surprises myself.

“Come over tonight, I’ll cook us dinner and we can dig through endless boxes of childhood nostalgia.”

“Well…” I consider his invitation carefully, but a glimpse at my depressing grocery list dares me to be brave, “When you offer free food how can I resist?” I tease.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at seven then.” His lips curl into a coy smile and expose his dimple.

“Great, see you then.” I respond coolly. I try to keep myself from melting into a puddle as he turns to check out. Shit, am I dreaming?

I speed through the aisles and collect the few items I can afford and head back to my apartment to tidy up for the date. As I get ready I feel a sense of vibrancy course through my veins like a surge of childhood energy, and for the first time in a long time, I am beaming at my reflection.

When we get to his house nostalgia washes over me with each step inside. Suddenly, the memory of the day I tried to say goodbye sideswipes me. I cannot risk being hurt again, I shouldn’t be here. Noticing I’m upset, he takes my hand and ushers me to the couch.

“Hey, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he chuckles.

“Almost, just something that’s haunted me for years,” I try to say jokingly.

“What do you mean?” he asks worriedly.

“Do you remember what happened?”

His upright posture deflates as he releases a deep breath. “I remember that I was an idiot and I’m so sorry, Alex. We were just kids, but I’ve always regretted letting you go."

My mouth dries and I struggle to respond. All this time I assumed I faded into the background of his memory. He hadn’t believed me when I told him I was moving so I always assumed he didn’t care.

“If you regret it so much why didn’t you ever contact me again?”

“I guess I just assumed you were better off without me in your life. I let you down that night and I’ve never forgiven myself for hurting you that much.”

I glance down and rub my right thumb over my left, a nervous tick I have. “Well, you’re wrong.”

He lifts his head up and tilts it quizzically.

“My life isn’t better off without you.”

His lips tilt into a slight smirk, “I really messed up letting you get away. I promise I’m not the same careless and selfish asshole I was six years ago.”

“I know, and I’m not the same naive drama dweeb I used to be. I just don’t know if I feel the same way anymore, we were so young.”

“Alex, you were never a dweeb, and you can’t deny the connection we have. I can’t let you go again because ever since you walked out of my life it’s like you took a piece of me with you. I’m just not the same.”

“It’s going to take time."

“I know it will, but I will do whatever it takes to never hurt or lose you again. I’m sorry.”

“Me too…” I say resting my head on his chest, “but how do I know I can trust you again?”

“Let’s pretend that we’re kids again and that we don’t have a fear or doubt in the world,” he replied.

“That’s your answer?” I laugh.

“That’s always the answer,” he whispers and with his palm he lifts my face and presses his lips against mine.