Dart and Dash - Mary Smith Page 0,17

much?”

Garnet’s eyes turned sad at my question, and I thought she wasn’t going to answer. “You knew my mom was a teacher, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, she mainly taught literature in high school, and she was the one who turned me onto it. What about you?”

“Kind of the same, actually. I studied him in high school. I sort of connected with his writing.”

We ate for a few moments in silence before she asked me more questions.

“You and Dart grew up in West Virginia, didn’t you?”

“Yes, in Lincoln County. It was our dream to play for Marshall University.”

“Did your parents go here?”

“Nope. Dad was a coal miner all his life, and mom took care of us.” I could hear my own sadness coming through my voice.

“I remember Daisy telling me they died in a car accident.”

“Yes, the police thought he swerved to miss a deer and lost control.” I dropped the fry back into the plate. I didn’t feel like eating at that moment. “Dart and I were freshmen. We hadn’t been at school very long.” I’m not sure why I continued, but I did. “After they died, we sold the house and most everything else.”

We remained quiet when our food had finally arrived. Neither one of us touched our plates.

“Dash, may I ask you a deeply personal question?”

I looked into her sad brown eyes and nodded.

“Do you ever get over it? Does the hurt ever go away?”

I saw a single tear escape and roll down her cheek. I knew what she was asking.

“You never get over it. The pain is always there, but you learn to live with it.” I told her honestly. “But you shouldn’t use your pain as an excuse to be angry at everyone.” She locked her eyes with mine. “Think about your tattoo quote. You’re blessed for the time you have with your loved ones, no matter how much it hurts when they’re gone.”

More tears fell. My heart twisted seeing the agony on her face.

“I think I’m ready to go home.” Garnet’s voice cracked, and she wiped her face.

I nodded, waving the waitress down. We boxed up our food, and I paid the bill, even though Garnet insisted on paying for her own.

We walked home in silence, until we reached our block.

“Dash, is the reason you sleep around and drink so much because you’re dulling the pain?”

“Is that why you do it?” I asked avoiding her question.

Garnet stopped walking. “I want to say no, but that’s not the whole truth. I just,” she paused, looking at the ground. “I just want to stop the pain, forget, and be me again.”

I understood what she meant. There were times I felt the same way. “How long has your mom been dead?”

“Five months.”

“Garnet, the wound is still fresh. Maybe if you give it more time, it’ll all start coming back together. Maybe if you danced—,”

“No,” she cut me off. “I can’t.”

“Dart and I thought the same thing about football, but doing something you love will help you… well… feel like you, again,” I explained, remembering getting dressed for the first game after our parents had died. It killed me to know they would never see us taking the field. However, they were part of our drive to get there and we’d made it; that burned even brighter in us.

“I even heard from Daisy that you were a man whore.”

I scoffed at the comment. “That might be true. I’m apparently having imaginary sex with you. So it requires for me to show my nice side.” I winked at her.

She promptly rolled her eyes. “Oh, how I do love imaginary sex with you.”

We both laughed at her comment and continued to walk home in silence.

When we reached her door, she turned to me. “Thank you, Dash. I mean it.” She stepped up on her tiptoes, kissing my cheek. Her scent of cherries and honey filled me.

“You’re welcome, Garnet.”

When I got back to my house, I tossed the food into the refrigerator, and grabbed a beer. I went up to my room, and scanned my bookshelf to find what I was looking for.

I opened the leather bound photo album, seeing Dart and I as small babies. We had our mother’s blue eyes, and our dad’s dark brown hair. I flipped the pages watching the same pride in our parent’s eyes in every picture. They were our biggest fans and always had been.

“Dash, you okay?”

I turned, seeing my identical twin in the doorway. “Yep, what’s up?”

“You don’t have to play tough guy with me.” He