Epilogue
KEY
Twelve years ago
“Hey, Key?”
I turn my head to look over at Dusty. Her wild hair is in two knots on top of her head. Her father’s attempt at parenting after he couldn’t be bothered to brush it, she told me. “Yeah?”
She continues to stare up at the blue sky, her chin rising over the long blades of grass we lie in side by side. “Hmmm . . . never mind.”
“No,” I say, lifting myself up on one elbow to see her face better. Her freckles seem to have multiplied by the summer sun and I often catch myself counting them, thinking one day I’ll finally know exactly how many are there. “Tell me.”
She sighs. A sad sound. One that makes my heart twist. She gets like this sometimes, and I can’t always bring her back right away. Back to that smiling, shining person she deserves to be.
“I just had a thought . . .” she says as she bites her lip. “Do you think we’ll ever be truly happy?”
That twisting feeling gets tighter. What a thought for a thirteen-year-old to have. Then I think about it for a minute. Am I really happy? I’m happy now. I’m happier than I’ve been in weeks . . . months—but only when I’m with her. Being at home is like torture. A prison. A specially crafted hell made by my parents and, if I’m really to believe everything they teach me in church, God too. I swallow hard. “Are you not happy right now?”
Her sapphire eyes find mine. “I think so.”
I blink. Ouch. Sensing my hurt, she sits up, a few tiny white flowers stuck in her hair from lying in the grass. “I don’t mean that you don’t make me happy. Actually—” Her cheeks turn pink. “You’re probably the only thing that does make me feel happy.”
A nervous smile tugs at one side of my mouth. “You too.”
The tiniest laugh escapes her before she frowns again. “I just mean . . . let’s say we both achieve everything we’ve ever dreamed of, do you think we’ll be completely happy then?”
I shrug. “I don’t think achieving your dreams is the only thing that makes you happy. I think maybe, it takes a lot of things. And maybe they’re not all perfect at the same time so you know to be grateful and recognize the things that truly make you happy when they do.”
She nods, plucks some grass and lets the breeze take it away off her palm. “I always knew you were smart,” she says with a grin. “I think I know if I’m happy or not now.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You do?”
“When we’re not together I’m unhappy . . . maybe it’s so I can recognize how to feel when we’re together. Like the universe is shining a huge flashlight to show me the good part of my life.”
Now it’s my turn to blush. “Surely I’m not the only good thing in your life.”
“But you just said I’m the only one in yours?”
My mouth opens but it’s true. I did say that. “Dusty,” I say, grabbing her hand. “You’re my best friend.”
She smiles. “You’re mine.”
“Let’s promise that no matter what happens, no matter how long we’re apart, or how old we get . . . we’ll always try to make each other happy. That’s what best friends do, right?”
“Right,” she says, lying back down and closing her eyes to bask in the sunshine. “I think that’s what love feels like.”
THE END