Birthday Wish

My only birthday wish for my seventeenth birthday was for my Davie to come back. A little bit after my sixteenth, he moved from Maine to California. His dad was a part of a big corporation, and his position was moved.
Davie was my best friend. A lot of people thought it was weird that a guy and girl were best friends, but we didn’t care. Even when rumors started, we ignored them. We hung out all the time. We’d do everything together. We did homework together, which made sense; we were in all the same classes. We helped each other memorize the songs in chorus and learn the notes in band. In math, I understood most of it, and Davie didn’t, so I helped him. He’d help me in chemistry, because that never had made sense to me at all. We were both pretty good at English and history. When we had to take gym, we’d always be partners for whatever we had to do. We always had fun, with whatever we did. Of course we fought, but what friends don’t?
Davie was used to fighting. He didn’t get along with his family. He and Jared, his thirteen year old brother, hated each other. Davie and his dad were on completely different wave lengths (which isn’t too different from my dad and I. But my dad and I don’t fight nearly as much). Davie and his mom argued less then Davie and Jared or Allen, but still, more often than needed, in my opinion. So every time there was a huge argument, he would walk over to my house, which was down the street. Once he was actually crying, but that was back in middle school. There was one time when we had had an argument, so he was already steamed when he fought with his brother. I saw him come running down the street, so I knew he had some trouble at home. I thought he was coming to my house, but instead he ran right by. He ran to Patrick’s, another friend of ours, who lived one house down. That was the only time I can remember him not coming to me. That was our biggest fight too.
So now you get the idea of how close Davie and I were. So you might see how upset I was when I found out he was leaving. And worried. Who would help him with math? And who would he talk to about his family? He’ll still have problems with his family, but no one to talk to. It took him thirteen years to tell me about his family problems, when we were in eighth grade. Who would he talk to in Cali?
It was three weeks after my sixteenth birthday. A Monday. Monday the fifth of August. Davie was at the lake, a couple blocks from our houses. He had called me around nine thirty, telling me to meet him there at ten. We had this special place that we were the only people who went there (that we knew of). It was this little rocky cove. It was about the width of a large motorboat actually, and the rocks made pretty comfortable chairs. It was secluded, so we could go and talk.
When I got there, he was looking out over the water, out into the open. A boat was way off in the distance, pulling a water-skier. He turned to look at me as I arrived. He had a lost look in his eyes.
“Davie, what’s wrong?” I asked. Davie just sighed. “David. Tell me.”
“Come sit down Mikayla.” Slowly, reluctantly, I sat next to him. “I don’t know how to say this gently…”
“How about you just say it?” I said, not knowing the horror for me.
“Miki, I’m moving to California.”
“WHAT?” I jumped up. “Are you insane? You’ve got to be joking! Cut it out! It’s not funny, Davie!” He just turned back to the water. The boat and skier were going to opposite direction now.
“My dad’s position was moved. There’s nothing he can do about it. He can’t give up his job. We have to go.”
“No! No, Davie, you can’t! You just… can’t! You’re going to be a senior in a new school. You won’t know anyone. You know how you do with new people Davie. You can’t go.”
“I don’t have a choice!” He yelled, suddenly mad. I shrunk back from him. “Anyways, what are you worried about? You can find a new best friend easy.”
“I don’t want a new freaking best friend! And I don’t care about that right now! What are YOU going to do?”
“We can still be best friends. We’ll just be far apart. You need to find someone you can hang out with here. I don’t think I’ll be able to come up often. I’ll be ok. I can find a friend.”
“Davie! Who are you trying to kid? You just barely trust me with your problems and we’ve known each other forever. How are you gonna trust someone you just met?”
“I’ll be fine, ok! I’ll deal with them myself!” He sounded volatile. He didn’t want to deal with this situation. “Anyway, I’m leaving on the twentieth.”
“THE TWENTIETH? And you’re telling me now? That’s only a couple weeks!”
“You think I don’t know that?” He started yelling again. He inhaled deeply. When he exhaled, he shuddered deeply. He was trying hard to control his temper. “I found out the day before your birthday, but I couldn’t tell you then. That’d be the worst sweet sixteen ever. Then I couldn’t get the courage to tell you.”
“I don’t believe this.” I turned on my heel and left. Davie didn’t try to stop me; he knew he couldn’t.1

The next couple of days, I was boiling with anger. I was angry with Davie for leaving. Angry with his family for making him. Angry at his dad for being the cause. And angry with myself. I knew there was another reason I didn’t want him to leave, other than losing a best friend, but I didn’t know what it was. I could just tell though. Something in me was anonymously flaring up.
A few days after he told me, my anger subsided, and I walked to Davie’s house. I apologized for walking out on him. I apologized for being so angry at him. He said it was ok, and that he was sorry for being angry with me. The next couple of weeks, we spent as much time together as possible. We went to the beach, walking around downtown, anywhere we could walk to. There were these odd times when he would start to say something, then stop. I’d ask him what he was going to say, but he always replied that it was nothing. This incidents were always followed by awkward silences.
On Tuesday, the twentieth, my family and I got up at six to drive Davie’s family and all their stuff to the airport in our RV that we never use. When we saw them off, not a single member of either family was dry-eyed.2

A few weeks later, my family went back to school shopping. Ashley, my sister, and I always love going to get new clothes. When we got back, I went to my room to put my clothes away. I noticed there was a message on my private line that I got for my sixteenth birthday. I pushed the button and went to my closet to hang some skirts and dresses up. Davie’s voice played out from the message machine.
“Mikayla, it’s Davie. Remember the day before I left? I kept trying to say something, but couldn’t. I just wanted to tell you what that was. Mikayla, I love you.”
I dropped the skirt I was about to hang up. I was so startled. I stooped down to pick it up, but stopped. I knew the other reason I didn’t want him to leave.3

I loved Davy too.4