Page 6 of Dylan
“Yeah, buddy. We’ll be there soon.”
“Am I getting a new phone?”
I made sure he left his phone behind before leaving the house. I’ll have to get him a new one when we land. For now, I blocked anyone I don’t want to be in contact with from my phone. I begin to make a mental note of all the things I need to do.
“Yeah. We’ll get you a new phone, and we’ll get something to eat. I’m starving. Sound good?”
“Sounds awesome. I’m hungry too,” he says with that big, handsome smile.
God, I love this kid. He’s my entire world. As long as he’s safe and happy, I’m good.
Dylan
I wake in a cold sweat.I’ve been having the same dream since we moved away from Ireland. However, lately it’s been insistent.
For some reason, old memories have resurfaced. I haven’t been able to push them back into their box. For years, I have wondered what happened to my friend.
I don’t think I will ever be able to forget her. I never really tried to. My life’s mission has been to find my way back to her. We were the same, well, not really, but in a way.
We were both different from everyone else. I was the only one out of six brats with blond hair and ice-blue eyes with subtle flecks of golden brown. All three of my brothers and my two sisters have dark-brown hair and green eyes.
I was also the tiniest of the six. My siblings teased me all the time that I was mail-ordered by my parents. I guess all that teasing is why I was painful shy to begin with.
It was only around her that I ever felt like I could be me, like I belonged. It was okay to be different around her because, like me, she was different with her deep, dark-honey-colored, golden-brown skin and those big, bright, green-gray eyes.
They were the brightest eyes I have ever seen. Those long dark curls framed her heart-shaped face and spilled down her back, making her look like the perfect doll. It was amazing to have someone around who was actually smaller than me.
Granted, I was about two years older than she was, but that should tell you just how much of a runt I happened to be. I was never a runt to her though. I was her best friend, her buddy, her hero.
I never thought that day would be the last time our families would live on that same little road together. My family lived in that same home since before I was born and her da’s family had owned that big old farm for generations.
Ciara.
Just hearing her name brings back the anticipation I used to have waiting for her to return. Ciara’s da was a fighter. He met her ma in the States when he first went there to start his boxing career.
Once he married her ma and she got pregnant with Ciara, they started to make the trips to Ireland to stay on the farm during training seasons. Whenever a big fight came up in the States, Ciara’s whole family would go to support her da.
I would miss her terribly every time, as they would be gone for months at a time. However, they always came back. It was that time again.
She was only supposed to be gone for two months. Yet that last day, I felt a sickness I had never felt before. I wanted her to know how much she meant to me before she left. Even at the age of ten, I knew she was taking my heart along with her.
“Dyl,” she gasped in a little whisper.
Ciara had enough of an Irish lilt to her tiny voice to think she’d spent more time in Ireland than in the States. “Yer going to get in so much trouble.”
Her eyes were wide as she looked at the half a dozen pink roses I cut from my ma’s garden. I shrugged my small shoulders and looked at her shyly. Her small, full lips turned into a bright smile.
In that moment, whatever beating I took for butchering the roses would be worth it. Ciara had always said she loved the pink roses in my ma’s garden the most. I had to take them, knowing they were her favorite.
My sister will be after me too. I took a roll of her ribbon she uses for baskets to wrap the stems of the roses with. It was the prettiest roll she had, purple with sparkles.
“I don’t care. I want ya to think of me when yer in America.”
Standing up from her perch on the rock in front of the farm’s fence, Ciara’s face lit up more as she threw her arms around my neck. “Thank ya, Dyl. I always miss ya when I’m gone.”
She squeezed me tightly before stepping back and taking the bouquet from me. I missed her warmth from the time she released me. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I pressed my lips to her full little mouth, counting to ten in my head. My eyes were squeezed tight.
I refused to breathe for fear this wouldn’t be real. Nine … ten. I opened my eyes and pulled away.
