The Wait

"What's your secret?" She tugged on his sleeve, curiosity burning in her voice. "I promise I won't tell."
He laughed, the sound bouncing off into the warm summer evening, and he put an arm around her. The stripes on his shirt and her top matched but at the same time looked very different, much like they did.
"I might tell you some day," he said, "but only if you promise to stay with me tonight."
"I promise," she said much too lightly, and kissed him. The trees were gold with the dropping sun and the clouds played out in a grand ballet of orange and red fire over a sea of dark blue sky, but the boy and the girl on the bench in the park saw none of it. Their world ended with each other, and they saw no further then the eyes they could swim in forever, hers brown and his green. 1

As the kiss ended, he leaned back against the bench.
"I like it when you do that."
"Good thing the festival doesn't start for another hour then," she said, the gentle evening slowly deepening around them.
"I don't think waiting has ever been this fun," he said, and she looked at him as a soft breeze flicked at his brown hair. There was genuine happiness behind his smile, waiting to burst out.
"Come here," she said, beckoning him. He obliged, leaning in close, taking her hands in his before their lips touched. The softness of their touch was equal only to the air of the velvet evening on their skin. 2

"I can't believe this is the last night of summer break," she sighed, her head resting on his shoulder.
"I know, right? It went by so fast," he said, staring at the grass at his feet.
"If you think about it, it's so stupid we didn't do this sooner," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"You know," she said, shifting her head to look at him, "us."
He nodded. "Yeah, it's stupid alright."
Startled at his flat response, she sat up.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he said, and the first uncomfortable silence descended upon them. After agonizing seconds, she nudged him with his elbow.
"Hey, at least we can hang in the weekends, right?"
He stared at the grass again.
"Actually," he said, "I think I'll be at my father's in the weekends."
She tried to keep disappointment from creeping into her voice.
"Oh."
He heard it anyway. "What did you expect?"
"Nothing," she said, "I just thought maybe-"
"Listen Sarah, I can't just throw my entire life around. Not like this, not for-"
"Not for me?" There was something else than sadness in her voice.
He sighed. "Come on, it's not like that."
She moved away from him, one eyebrow raised. "It's not?"
"I just don't know how to deal with this divorce stuff. I want to keep seeing my father... it's important to me."
"You don't have to see him every weekend, do you?"
"But I WANT to," he said, his voice hard. They entered another silence, neither of them sure what to say. Similar thoughts drifted through their heads: how had this happened? How had they gone from kissing to arguing?
She noticed his earlier smile bursting with happiness had faded, and she wondered what she had done to chase it off. He looked at her and regretted his harsh words, wanted to go back to kissing her instead of pushing her away.
"But I could come by in the evenings?" he tried.
She hesitated. "I work evenings."
"Can't you take some nights off?"
"Not really," she said. "Besides, I like my job."
"So my father is not important enough," he said, "but your job is?"
"Come on, Sam. It's just like you said, I can't just throw my life around. I worked hard to get that job."
"Do you even want this?"
"Yes," she said, "do you?"
"Yes," he said, "then why can't we work this out?"
"I don't know," she said. "Do we have to work this out now? Why can't we just enjoy tonight?"3

He wanted to, he really did; the festival would start soon, but it just felt wrong. Something about it had been spoiled. Music started up in the distance.
"Let's just forget about it, okay?" She took his hands. "Let's roll with it and see where it goes."
"I want to know what I can expect," he said. "I want to work this out now."
She let his hands go. "Why can't you just settle for being with me? Isn't that enough?"
"It is, but..." he paused. "Can't we just stay here and talk about it?"
"No, Sam. I want to go to the festival."
"You promised me you'd stay with me tonight," he said.
She stood up.4

What had happened? Maybe they were so cemented in their lives that they had no room for each other. Maybe it really was that hard to work things out. Or maybe, they did not want to make room, even if they could. Maybe they had rushed into things, spurred by their naive enthusiasm, and discovered that they could not make the commitments to match their words. Maybe the stripes on their clothing had foretold how they did not match; maybe they were not right for each other, maybe it just wasn't meant to be.
But maybe it was, and maybe it scared them so much that they pushed each other away, afraid of what might happen if they turned out to be made for each other.
And maybe they were just teenagers, struggling to find a way to live life. Maybe, for them, it was all of these things at the same time.
Whatever the reason, this passionate, budding relationship was undone on the very same day it had started. One hour of waiting was all it took to make her break the only promise she had ever made to him, and it was all the time he needed to decide that he would never tell her his secret.5

"Then I'm sorry I made a promise I couldn't keep," she said, turned, and walked away.
Fine, he thought as he sat alone in the park, the darkness of night starting to surround him.
Her words echoed in his mind: 'If you think about it, it's so stupid we didn't do this sooner.'
It had surprised him that apparently she hadn't thought about it up until that point. And now she would never know the truth of those words, never know how different things might have gone if only she had thought about him sooner, instead of wasting the summer away chasing boys she knew she wouldn't end up with. The days of freedom ticking away as she went with a smile on her face and mischief in her eyes - oblivious to him, never knowing that all that time, he had simply watched... and waited.6

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