Page 60 of Forever

Some days, when I looked at her, it still felt like she was just an image in my head. I reached out and traced the engagement ring on her finger. It sure felt real to me.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“That I like grown up Matt.”

I smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too. But there is one other thing that I’m thinking about.” She rolled over on her side and propped her head up on her hand.

“And what is that? If Tanner is right about chicks in twos?”

“No,” she said with a groan. “Definitely not. I was wondering what other stuff you kept of mine.” She was staring over my shoulder.

I turned to see a framed picture of us on my nightstand. She’d already seen my paintings of her. She knew how much I’d missed her. How desperately I wanted to hold on to her memory forever. This didn’t have to be weird.

“Let me show you,” I said. I grabbed a tissue and placed it against her leg.

She finished cleaning up as I pulled my boxers back on. I grabbed a key from my nightstand and slid my hand into hers.

Her eyebrows pinched together as she stared at the key. But she didn’t say a word as I led her down the hall.

We stopped at the door of her old bedroom here. She spent every night in my bed. But all her things had been in this room. Mostly things she’d gotten after she moved induring high school. I put the key into the lock and turned it.

I coughed and waved my hand through the dust in the air. I hadn’t been in here in ages. And no one else had a key. I switched on the lights and turned to Brooklyn.

She didn’t look back at me. Instead, she walked into the room.

There was a dusty picture of us on her nightstand. She stared at it for a moment and then went to the closet.

I swallowed hard as she opened the double doors.

All her things were packed away inside. There were garments covered in plastic hanging up. And clear plastic bins lined the floor. Everything was packed away, neat and tidy. Almost like it was waiting for her to come back.

“Did you do all this?” she asked and touched the plastic outside one of her dresses.

I shook my head. “No. My mom. I couldn’t do it.” I’d been such a fucking mess.

Brooklyn let her hand fall to her side. “But you kept everything? Why?”

I swallowed hard. “Because getting rid of it would make everything that happened feel…real.”

She didn’t reply. She just folded her arms across her chest and kept staring.

And I didn’t know what to do. It was like she was hugging herself. Piecing herself back together. And I wasn’t sure if she wanted a minute to herself or not. I cleared my throat. “I guess it makes sense now. Why your father didn’t let me keep more of your things. You needed them.”

She shook her head, but still didn’t say anything.

I’d always wondered about her Keds. And her mother’s dress. Some of her framed pictures. Even my varsity jacket that I’d given her. It was like her father had lockedaway all her favorite things from me just out of spite. Because it certainly hadn’t seemed like he’d cared about her death. But it all made sense now. She really had needed them. Some of those same pictures now lined our mantel back home.

“Sixteen years.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “Sixteen years, Matt.” Her voice cracked.

She didn’t need to hold herself together. Not when I was here to hold her. I walked up behind her, wrapping my arms around her.

Her head melted back against my chest.

For a few minutes, we just stood there, staring at our past.

Brooklyn sniffed. “I guess you should have dressed like the stage five clinger tonight instead of me.”

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