"Souvenir"

Do you remember that tree in your backyard? That huge one – I think it was taller than your house, and maybe even taller than both our houses, if we were to put them together. I've probably grown since I saw it last, or most of my memories of it were when we were younger, so maybe it wouldn't seem quite as big if I saw it now. We'd play near it when we were tiny, and as we got older we learned how to climb higher, even if I never got as high as you did. It was strange, sometimes – even though I was always a few yards below you, too cautious to reach out and pull myself up to you, I was the one who happened to fall. 1

I remember being so angry after the painkillers wore off… I was mad that you hadn't tried to catch me, and that you had insisted on climbing so high so fast. For hours I hated that you always did everything first, and that you were always more outgoing than me. You were the one who deserved a broken arm, for going so high and being so careless… I guess I might have got over that when you came into my hospital room bawling even though I hadn't been there for more than a day. Your mother brought us coloured sharpies after and you drew all over my cast. While you were there I almost didn't mind being broken, and when you weren't I had the colours and your memories to keep me form being too lonely.2

Do you remember that one time when you were grounded? Your parents were going out for dinner and my parents didn't know, so I snuck over to your place and we hung out in your room until your parents came home. Your mom was knocking on the door before we noticed they had come home, so I hid under the bed and you were stupid and followed. 3

It was getting very hot and I could hear your mom looking for you around the house, walking on the hardwood in her dinner shoes and checking in your room again. You were breathing on my shoulder, and when I wanted to tell you to go out and talk to her I turned and you might have kissed me. I wasn't sure, but when my mind had recovered enough to wonder you were gone. I could hear you telling your mother about the pressing need you had to rid the world of renegade dust bunnies and I wouldn't be surprised if she had believed you, as quirky and hard to entertain as you were.4

Do you remember, a month later, when you were upset because I was lab partners with the new girl in chemistry? Even though she had asked me first you were still so mad at me for agreeing, even though it would have been rude not to. You said I should have stuck with you, and I was stupid enough for the reason why not to be obvious. I asked you and I know for sure you kissed me then – I kicked you out of my house because of it, and my mouth tingled for hours after, making it hard to sleep.5

I didn't talk to you for three days and even though you were the one who came to came over to apologise, I was the one who kissed you. You looked very puzzled and maybe upset so I filled the silence with two days' worth of explanations before you could call me a hypocrite. We were okay for a long time after that. We were always careful, and no one really suspected anything because we had always seemed to need each other all the time anyways. 6

Do you remember how badly I wanted to touch you? We had a solid foundation of trust and the average amount of teenage hormones, which made the question of deeper contact not 'whether or not' to, but 'where'. It was hard to keep our hands off each other until we were out of sight, and sometimes I'd feel unsettled by the fact that we weren't even allowed to hold hands or walk too close just because we were how we were. After a while, you wanted to tell your parents, or at least your friends. You were too happy to keep us to yourself, and I was too afraid not to. I was terrified of what could happen if we showed them anything more than what we already had, and I was content to be with you in secret, as long as we had forever.7

Do you remember when we were caught? 8

My father had gasped out profanity even before we had the chance to scramble apart, and even though I wanted us to leave, we sat on my bed until my mother came home. She walked you back to your house, apologising to your parents until she was out of breath from trying not to cry. My father and my mother didn't say anything to me until three weeks later when they told me that my father had applied for a transfer down south. 9

My parents were kind enough to let me finish school here, but in the evenings and on weekends I was house-bound, leaving me with no interpersonal interaction but for their apologetic, regretful looks. Without knowing why, you let me cling to you during lunch and skipped classes, and stay up late talking to me online until father figured out a way to block the instant messaging. On the last day of school you cried when I finally got enough courage to tell you that we were moving away, and I tried so hard not to that I had a headache for the entire afternoon. 10

Do you remember when we weren't allowed to say goodbye? 11

I wonder if you know how hard they tried to make us forget about us. Last week I found a huge stack of unopened letters from you under the black socks in mother's drawer, right next to her emergency cash. I wonder if any of my letters happened to get to you, even though I didn't send very many. 12

Did you know that I didn't go back to high school after I moved? Instead, my parents thought they could fix me by pouring money into high-end, church-sponsored correction facilities and summer-camps. What they ended up with were empty pockets and the knowledge that if you try to repair something that's perfectly fine, you end up having it crumble in your hands.13

I'm coming back soon, you know. I never got used to it down here, and now that I've changed so much I don't think I ever could. You've probably changed, too. I bet you've moved on and found someone that you're completely in love with. I bet you've gotten taller – probably a lot taller than I have. I wonder if that tree's still there – remember? That huge one – I think it was taller than your house. 14

Do you think that if we were to climb that it would still be able to hold us? My arm aches from just thinking about it… but maybe if you asked me to I'd be able to get up there. But you'd have to go as slowly and stay as low as I did, or at least promise me that you wouldn't let me fall again. 15