Young Love
They say young love isn't real. That it's just first experiences, excessive hormones, heightened emotions... it doesn't last.
So why, 24 years down the road, do you still know me like the back of your hand? You remember my secrets, the way I would get goosebumps when you'd kiss me, stating outloud memories you shouldn't be replaying in your mind.
Do you think of me when you're next to her? When you're flying? When you were in the South Pacific? You worry that I'd judge you for the things you share, for the thoughts, the exposure. You've replayed in my mind over half my lifetime.
I'm like that college history book you drag out to study because you love history, because you still love me, still studying, because there's always more to learn.
I never believed in love at first sight until I met you. Walking down the frozen food aisle. We both slowed down and smiled, the world stood still. Then others joined the aisle like they found us exactly where they were expecting us to be. I never doubted this wasn't our first lifetime together. Did Annie have an idea of you and me before we were a we? Before our eyes met?
We rode together, you watched in your rear view mirror when I reached over the back seat. You remind me of that.
Inseparable, even from a distance.
We shared a bed that night... everyone coupling up. We were "good". You couldn't sleep, I don't remember specifics from that night, but you do, you always do.
Football games, apartment, parties, dances, parent weekends, alcohol, lamb skin. Salem, Charleston, Pawleys, the back and forth. Lace, sand, bioluminescense, fingers in ears, "dont listen", you opening doors and pulling out chairs.
We lived it all. States away and then together in a city where there were miles and cement walls between us. Then came states, time zones, and oceans between.
Surprise dinner pizza deliveries, flowers, tears.
I rowed, you did kalesthenics, I saw the barracks from the water. You hated running so you'd send me out with Taylor.
We were opposites. Everyone saw it. Forrest and Jenny. Military man, free spirit.
Camping and canoeing. You changed me forever in the freezing rain, wasp infested tree houses, holding me over the railings, grit I hadn't built yet.
Feeling like I was dieing from Jose the night before. I remember you wrapping me in a sheet on the bathroom floor, and putting my naked body to bed. You asked if I wanted fries or anything else. I told you no. You closed the door and the guys all noted I could have asked for the moon and you would have gotten it for me. I didnt understand until I did.
D.C., New York, New Orleans... you always took me on trips even though it took everything you had to get us there. The lawn, theatre for my birthday, bourbon street, surrounded by our friends. I see it now. What you sacrificed for my travel-happy heart.
You held me when medicine was drowning me. Listened to understand. You heard me. You touched me. You tasted me. You took me. All of me. Mind, body, soul.
Get Unscrewing The Lid’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
You remember entering me on the balcony. The beach. The river. The back seat. The way I'd moan and how my body would tense before it would shudder after the release. You were the last time my legs couldn't stop shaking. You knew every curve and crevice, every mole. You memorized me, every breath, every flinch, every time my eyes would close. You were the last one who spent time making sure I was taken care of while enjoying every part of my being.
Cousins, strawberries, worms, your fingers inside me. You still remember my hips, my taste, the way my body moved against yours.
The only person I have ever taken to a family holiday. I got a ticket driving there. My coloring book flew on the way back.
Your mom ran me a bath and gave me a glass of wine. We said we were going to take some time. You kissed her. Why did I crack when you told me? I cried for hours.
The swing, your spleen. My heart, my past. The last things we discussed. I'm sorry. Blood on the tray. Your heart rate would speed up on the monitor every time I'd walk in the room, your mom mentioned it the second you heard my voice. Were you angry, was the monitor screaming at me to stay away? Did you want me there? I didnt want to leave. Driving back for classes was one of the hardest drives I've ever made. You were a magnet pulling be back stronger with every mile between growing in my rear view mirror.
Twin bed, the O.C. You staying with me became scandalous when years down the road the military saw us as being common law when they called me for your clearance. I denied it and laughed a little, until I didnt.
Surprising you in San Antonio on the dock... you were crabbing with chicken legs and a string. The river walk and heat, I still remember how stifling the air was as the latinas in their tiny fitted dresses pranced along the streets in their heels. It felt like sex in the air.
Our first real fight, the film exposed at the party, international memories bleached by light. You poured cold water on me in the shower. Country music played in the background. I still fold my washcloth like yours.
Down in Pensacola ocean fishing and light houses, calm. At some point the surf board lost to the storm.
Emails across the pond, cold spots, changes, but they were facades. We were the same. I ended it and collapsed in the downstairs bathroom from grief, I cried for days, weeks, and drank, and drank, and drank my shattered heart down the drain. Bars and sliced feet, dancing the salsa and 3 am calzones.
They told you you wouldnt be able to. I called you when I found out, you wanted to step in, I told you no... still, to this day I should have said yes. I regret not saying yes. In every other dimension, I heard myself say yes.
Unexpected consequences from black out nights and five years later, I was still yours, but you were hers. I told him I wished they were yours.
Years passed.
After you were married she looked me up, I got the email. Why? What did you say? Did she ask about me? What did she want to know? You know they say she resembles me, just the way Doug's eyes resembled yours. Same looks, different person.
Pandemic came and we reached out. Time flew like a blink and I know it never faded. It was real. We were real. It is real.
You still know me like the back of your hand. You still listen and hear me. I asked if she knows, you said no. I asked if there were ever others you said no. I asked why me? You said simply, "because, I know you." Touché.
You hold my history, heart, and body in your hands. I often wonder what it would have been like if I had let myself be taken care of by you, who would I have become being loved so thoroughly and deeply by you. Our friendship I still cherish. The transparency. The trust.
Yes, we were young, but it was real. It is real. We were real.
