42

Seventeen Years Old

I GLANCE AROUND THE café, waiting anxiously for Milo. He said he had some news. I sip slowly on the latte I ordered while I wait.

When Milo does finally arrive, he goes to order coffee, then turns and finds me sitting in the back booth, our usual spot.

"Thanks for coming," he says.

"Why wouldn't I?"

His eyes shift slightly as he pauses, considering his words. Finally, he takes my hands in his. "My family is moving. Before school starts. I'm going to do senior year at a new school. Unfortunately, it's in an entirely different state."

The words are like arrows to the chest. I lean back, my hands slipping from his. "What do you mean you're moving?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know until a few days ago. The day of the funeral. But I couldn't ruin your evening more than it already was with that news. And then I chickened out the other few times I had chances."

"The night you promised to be there for me no matter what, you already knew this was temporary?"

He looks down, his face contorted with guilt. "I did. But I'm telling you now because we only have a couple of weeks left together."

"It sucks. But we can make this work."

Tears burn behind my eyes, but I am determined not to let them fall. I keep my emotions hidden now, behind the walls I've built. I do think we can make it work. It would take a lot of effort, but I'm willing to put that into us.

Milo leans back in the booth. "I don't want to put you through a long-distance relationship, either. My older sister had a long-distance relationship and it was horrible. Her boyfriend ended up cheating on her."

Another knife to the heart. "Do you not trust me?"

"I trust you fully. The problem isn't trust. It's the pain of being so far apart. There would be no end in sight because I can't guarantee I could move back any more than you could guarantee you'd move to see me."

Everything hurts. My heart, as it breaks apart. My eyes, as they burn with the hot tears I refuse to cry. My ribs, holding my heart together despite the cracks that mar it.

"I'm not willing to stay together for a few weeks just to break up later," I tell him. "If you don't want to do long distance, I can respect that. But I'm not going to pretend everything is okay for two weeks and then let you go."

"But—"

I hold my hand up. "I'm respecting your decisions, Milo. I appreciate the love you have shown me and I appreciate how you've held me together when I've wanted to break. But I can't stay in this when I know it's going to lead to a dead end."

Milo sighs. "We could have the best two weeks of our lives, though. Today doesn't have to be the end of everything."

"Yes, it does. Do you understand how selfish this is of you?"

Milo's eyes widen. "Selfish? You're saying I'm selfish?"

"You gave me hope that there could be someone else to hold my heart. You came into my life when everything around me was falling apart. You have held me together for a couple of months and I appreciate that. But now you want me to pretend for a few more weeks that things will always be this way."

"I'm selfish? For keeping your heart safe while you love someone else from a distance?"

I shake my head. So this is what it's like to really lose everything. "My heart was yours the moment I promised it to you, Milo."

"I'm sorry," he says. I can tell he means it. But it's too late to fix this.

"Me too."

I rise from the booth, leaving my latte and my heart behind. I keep the sobs buried in my chest as I walk home. When I pass people I know, I plaster a fake smile on my face, never showing how I'm really feeling.

Part of me hoped Milo would follow me. But I knew in my heart he wouldn't. He wouldn't chase me down and try to make everything right again. I was on my own this time.

I didn't let the tears fall when I turned down my street and saw my dad's car in the driveway, a very rare occurrence for this time of day.

I didn't cry when I went inside and my dad greeted me with a smile and a hug. I did hold on tighter for a moment, but not long enough for him to question anything.

I didn't cry while we ate dinner together; I kept it together so that we could have a conversation.

I didn't cry while I hugged my dad goodbye before his night shift, waving from the doorway as he pulled out of the driveway.

Only when I'm safe in my room, alone in the house, do I let the tears fall.