With her hand still in mine, I walk us to the shore and sit down, facing the still, calm lake. Legs bent, I rest my forearms on my knees. “Sometimes, I worry that I’m not really here,” I admit. It’s only the second time I’ve said those exact words out loud. The first time was with Laney, but she didn’t quite understand.
I doubt Mia would either.
I add, “And I’m scared that I’m going to go through life feeling the same way. But, I guess, my biggest fear is that this is life. And I don’t really know if it’s enough for me.”
Mia’s quiet a moment before sucking in a breath. “Do you feel like life’s passing you by, and you’re just a side character, not the main cast?”
I swallow, hard, replaying her words over and over, and I was wrong. Mia does get it. Her explanation may have been oversimplified, and she may not understand how I feel, but she understands what I’m feeling. I face her. “I guess, yeah.” She frowns. It’s the most in-depth conversation I’ve ever had with anybody, and it feels so, so right that I’m sharing it with Mia.
She says, “I want to say something, but I don’t want it to take away from what you’re feeling, so—”
“Say it,” I push. “I want to know.”
“I think maybe you underestimate how much you put into the world.” Her gaze drops. “Every summer I’ve come here, you’ve been the main character in my story.”
I can’t help but smile, and that smile only widens when I catch her cheeks flame red as she looks away.
“What about you?” I ask, inconspicuously shifting closer. “What’s your greatest fear?”
She releases a breath, low and slow, her eyes doing that distant thing when she’s deep in thought. Fingers curled around the stray strands of grass beside her, she closes her fist and pulls out a clump. Roots and all. And then she rests them on her bare thighs, separating each blade one by one. “I have this recurring nightmare,” she starts, pausing to push down her emotions.
I sit taller, face her completely.
“I’m, like, five years old, and I’m in my grandpa’s truck. He takes me to this antique store in town, and he hands me some money and tells me to get whatever I want.” Her words are slow, methodical. “So I go through the aisles one by one, picking up random things every now and then. Then the store’s roof gets higher and higher, and the aisles get wider, or I’m getting smaller; I can’t be sure. But it feels endless. Every corner I turn brings me to another corner, and I can’t seem to find my way back to my grandpa, and I’m crying and calling out for him, and he never appears, and then I’m at a bay of windows looking out to the parking lot, and I can’t see my grandpa’s truck anywhere... and then I wake up.”
She sniffs once, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Her eyes are glassy, soaked with a level of torment I’ll never understand. In my head, I run through all the different things I wish I could say, but know I can’t verbalize.
“Holden’s parents are getting a divorce,” she says, cutting through my thoughts. “His dad’s staying because of the farm, and he and his mom are leaving.” She turns to me, a single tear leaving a trail across her cheek. “That’s why he called me the other day, and I just—I’ve spent the past few days trying to understand why I’m being so selfish—”
“How are you—”
“All I can think is that they’re leaving me. Tammy—Holden’s mom—she’s the only mother I’ve ever known. She practically raised me along with my grandpa, and now... now I’m…” She takes a breath, and then another. “Holden’s my only friend, Leo, and we had plans. He promised that he’d find a way to get us out of that town and that he’d take me with him, and he’s breaking that promise.” I push aside my jealousy and focus on her words, on her heartache. “And it’s so selfish of me to think that, to throw that in his face when he’s going through what he is, but I can’t… I can’t go to high school without him. I wouldn’t even know what to do. We were supposed to go to school together, and then college, and then we were going to travel the world