Flashback - Summer 2014

Flashback

Aurora – Summer 2014

I saiah has a way of making everything feel okay.

Like the world could be falling apart in my hands, and for him, it's as simple as reconnecting the puzzle pieces.

I could be having the worst day, and Isaiah shows up and washes it away. Maybe because with him, I don't care whether I'm at my best or my worst—I simply exist. Which isn't easy to do at seventeen. But he doesn't care what version of me he gets. He doesn't shy away from all the messy parts or the jagged edges that I'm still learning myself.

Almost everyone else, I think, I keep at a distance. Most times, it's not even a conscious choice I'm making; it's my natural defense mechanism kicking in. That if I don't get close, I can't get hurt.

They can't decide they don't like that I'm a raging hopeless romantic, that I'm wistful and nostalgic, that at the same time, I'm deeply competitive and stubborn and sarcastic. They can't decide that I'm being clingy when I show how much I might care about something. It can't be used against me. If they don't know me; they can't hurt me . They can only hurt the version I've presented.

But Isaiah's such an integral part of me at this point that he sees through it. So, there's no use in trying to hide it.

His car pulls into the parking lot, and I bound over with my soccer bag slung over my shoulder.

"Hi," I say breathlessly. "Thank you for picking me up."

"Always. You okay?"

I lean back into the seats, my legs already sore from today and my nose sunburnt. "For the most part."

Isaiah reverses the car, swinging his arm behind my seat. "Any reason you stayed an hour and a half longer after practice?"

The words my dad strung at me a few days ago ring clear in my head. How I'd gotten too slow over the summer, that my footwork on my left wasn't good enough, that I seemed unfocused and unmotivated. Given the fact that I played travel year-round, my school team in the spring, summer, and winter leagues, along with school and an occasional part time job… I'm not unfocused.

I'm exhausted.

The hurt still seethes under my skin. The words still reverberate in my thoughts at every turn. It's annoying how long it lingers. Feelings are so strange. Sometimes, the effects last seconds, minutes maybe, and are gone the next. And sometimes, they stick around no matter how hard you try to get rid of them. It's not like I can fight with Dad; he'll just shut it down. There's no use in arguing; there's no use in crying. There's just no use. So, I live with it.

"Dad thinks I've gotten slow."

Isaiah rolls his eyes as we pull up to the stoplight. "Is that it?"

I tug at my lip, pulling at the skin sharply. "No," I say, sighing. "But can we drop it?

"For now." His face turns gentle. "What do you wanna do?"

"I don't care. I just don't want to go home." I check the clock. It's only ten A.M. on a Saturday. The whole day is ahead of us.

"What if we drove down to the beach? Just for the day?" he asks, and I smile.

"That's what I was going to ask. You wouldn't mind?

"Nope. Not if it's what you need." Isaiah reaches over and squeezes my thigh. Heat spreads out from his touch, making my already warm skin even hotter.

The line between us has certainly blurred from just friends. More touches, more longing glances, more butterflies in my stomach. But we haven't kissed. Haven't talked. Haven't done anything to solidly make it something more. It's just there, hanging on a tightrope.

Whatever.

I sink into the seat of his car and into the lingering touch. I roll my head against the leather so I can spend the drive looking at him.

He wrinkles his nose. "You stink."

On instinct, I hit his chest. "Asshole." I roll down my window, letting the breeze in.

"Kidding, kidding." Another squeeze of my thigh. "We can stop at my place and grab a change of clothes. You have some there, right?" I nod. "Alright then."

The volume of the music increases, and I enjoy the air on my skin. It's probably a placebo effect, but simply being around him releases some of the tension from my shoulders. Releases the exhaustion sinking into my skin. Isaiah just makes things feel not so overwhelming. The comments, the criticism—they fall to the wayside with him. It's always been like that. Knowing when the other needs something and being there.

We either drag each other out of the hole, or we sit there in it together.

When we were younger, it was as easy as pushing each other on the swing set.

As we've gotten older, it's turned into watching crappy reality TV all day or raiding our parents' pantry for snacks. We've learned to recognize the signs and the tells.

For Isaiah, it's a smile with no dimple. Brown eyes with no warmth. It's when paper balls litter his bedroom floor because he can't write. That and when it was completely silent. He works best with a constant noise in the background—TV, music, anything—because it keeps him focused. For him, it is most often after visiting his father's grave with Eli and his mom. So, my job became quietly picking the trash and throwing it away until he could see the floor again. We usually end up at the park in our neighborhood, with me pushing him on the swings like we're kids again.

Mine is simply smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. Or finding any means to distract myself—like working myself to exertion or playing the music too loud. Isaiah has taken to noticing when my smile looks forced or the exhaustion is literally painted on my face. Usually, I get snippy or snarky with him. Ironic since he's the one person I shouldn't take it out on. But that's the way the cookie crumbles. He knows I don't mean it, knows it's not a reflection on who he is. I usually end up begging him for a hug shortly after anyway and mumbling an apology he says isn't necessary into his chest.

I steal a glance at him and exhale.

For me, Isaiah makes it easy to be human.

Above, the sun is high in the sky, the late summer heat maintaining a hold on us even though it's September. "Come on, please," I say, turning my eyes on Isaiah. He blinks open an eye, brown eyes molten under the sun as they look at me. My heart flutters, all the stress and the exhaustion dissipating every second we spend together. "One last swim for the year?"

Isaiah groans, rolling over and throwing his arm over my stomach, his face tucked into my side. "I'm comfortable where I am."

I smile, inhaling him along with the salt air. Sandalwood and sea salt invades my senses as it always does. Nudging him, I say, "Pretty please, for me?"

He sighs, and a small puff of air lands on my bare skin, sending goosebumps down my spine. "Fine," he mumbles, his lips so close they almost brush my skin.

Isaiah jumps up, his arms next to my head, like he's going to do a pushup, blocking out the sun from above me. "You owe me."

"Owe you what?" I ask, my eyes flickering to his lips and back up.

"Not sure yet, but I definitely get something for getting you to smile after earlier."

Said smile fights to re-appear. I roll my eyes, ignoring the flush over my skin. "Help me up," I say. Isaiah stands fully now, reaching out a hand. His fingers wrap around my own, and it feels solid, steady.

The sand is soft underfoot as we approach the waves. I pick up speed as I approach, crashing through the calm water on the shore and diving in as soon as I'm able. Salt water sticks to my skin and soaks my curls as I swim up. When I turn, water droplets splash onto Isaiah, who stands behind me, the waves swelling at his waist.

I swim over and pull him in. He rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. When he's far enough in that he has to swim, I latch onto his back.

"This doesn't seem fair. I'm doing all the work." Isaiah's hands are firm on the back of my knees.

"You are." My arms are wrapped around his chest, getting fuller by the day. It seems every time we're together, I notice something else about him that's changed as we keep growing older. "Thank you," I say, resting my head on his shoulder, the sun reflecting off the water on our skin.

He hums, and a wave approaches us. "Ready?"

I grin. "Ready."

As the waves crest, Isaiah dunks me under the water with a smile on my face. We surface together just in time to float over the next wave.

Here with him in the water and under the sun, all the worries and the insecurities fall away.

I'm just me. And that's enough.