Five Years Ago #2
He throws his head back with laughter. “Okay, but I’m serious,” [Declan carries being serious/sincere for them.
LOL] he says, voice level. “You’ve seen me through every stage of life, and you never preferred me more or less based on how football was going.
It sounds so stereotypical, but you saw the way people at school went from not paying attention to me at all, to gawking at me in the hallways after winning championships.
If they said my name, it was because the word football was attached to it.
[It’s destabilizing when your identity is wrapped up in something that can change.
And for Declan it did. But Blair won’t!] I never liked that.
I still found myself only caring about what you thought of me.
And it was never the football you cared about. The way you spoke to me never changed.”
“Of course not, Declan. That stuff is awesome but it’s kind of irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
At least, inasmuch as it relates to my obsession with you,” I say not so ironically.
“I’m proud of your accomplishments, don’t get me wrong.
But you could do anything and I would find it impressive.
[Even under-water basket weaving!] You know that. ”
He smiles like the sentiment is still novel to him. Special and new.
And then without speaking, he starts to move toward me.
[Oh, shoot!] I relax onto my back in the sand, and he crawls over me, boxing me in with his hands on either side of my face, his lean body hovering above mine, muscles in his shoulders straining with the effort.
And then his face slowly morphs into a smile of pure wonder, lighting up his eyes. “I enjoy that answer very much.”
“Of course you would.” I heckle.
His shoulders bounce as he laughs above me.
The moonlight illuminates his messy tousle of hair from behind and I take a turn giggling in disbelief as the improbability of this new reality settles between us.
He goes quiet at the sound, like he needs to be still to marvel at me.
And when I realize, I go still too. But then his face parts in a grin again and his head drops.
It’s like playing a game of hot potato, lobbing the imaginary force of it back and forth.
Laughter begetting laughter [They’re laughing because they can’t believe that they’re finally on a date!
] begetting laughter [I wanted to subtly reference my favorite book, and this line is a spin on a line in the Red Rising series by Pierce Brown.
nHis sentence is: “Death begets death begets death.” So…
mine is: “Laughter begetting laughter begetting laughter.” a happy spin! ].
Finally, the last of our laughter fizzles out like finishing the last sip of bubbly, and we allow the silence. I think he’s a second away from bending his elbows and lowering his mouth onto mine when he says, “Wanna play the question game?”
“Sure,” I exhale, a mixture of shock and unmet want.
He quickly bends his elbows and tucks his hands into his chest, unfolding next to me onto his back. The crash of waves fills the pause as he situates himself.
“Okay. First question,” Declan says. “If a crystal ball could tell you anything about your future, what would you want to know?”
I catch him looking at something in his left hand.
“Are you reading from a list?” [This question is from the “36 Questions to Fall in Love” list.] I demand.
“Maybe,” he says, faux shyness creeping into his voice.
I shake my head, but then the answer hits me. I contemplate choosing a lighter one, but I can’t think of a decoy in time. So out it comes. “I’d probably ask if I’ll ever see my dad again.”
The darkness has gone from navy blue to nearly black except for the subtle glow of the moonlight. If the world didn’t feel so still, I don’t think I’d have offered this level of candor. [Night time + no eye contact = rare moment of Blair opening up]
Declan rolls onto his side in the sand, facing me with his head on his bicep.
“You know,” his voice is soft, like an outstretched hand inviting me in. “It’s on your dad for never coming back. Not you.”
I stare at a specific star in the sky, scared of how my face will betray me if I look at him.
“Yeah, I know,” I choke out. “I just think—” I press my lips together.
“You just think what?”
“I know my dad is the only one to blame for his actions. But knowing something and believing it are two different things.” [Blair is only 17 years old here, but I feel like this has applied to my early 20s!]
I feel Declan’s meaningful stare on the side of my face, but I don’t turn. If I meet his eyes and see sadness in them, I’ll stop saying how I really feel. And it feels good to say it out loud for once.
“You blame yourself?” Declan says it like a fact. “For how he left you and your mom. You’ve somehow deduced that it was your fault?”
“Well,” I huff, turning to meet his eyes finally.
“It sounds so wrong when you put it like that. But when you’re five and no one is telling you what’s going on, it’s only natural to make up your own conclusion.
Even if the information you’ve gathered with your tiny mind is incorrect.
” [Almost word for word from a therapy session I had. ]
“Hey,” Declan protests. “My five-year-old brain loved your tiny mind. As unformed as it was, it was responsible for all your cute little expressions.”
My mouth splits into a smile.
“But in all seriousness, I know what you mean. About knowing something is true but not believing it. You came to the false conclusion that there was something about you that caused your dad to leave, and you started believing that so long ago, it’s hard to [spontaneously not believe it anymore].
Even with your grown-up brain.” He taps the side of my temple playfully.
I laugh and then his expression becomes grave again.
“But, Blair, someone who chose to leave you must be the stupidest man in the entire world. There’s just no other explanation.
” [This is why Blair believed Declan up and disappeared from her life w/o looking back.
But he’s also the one who will re-write those beliefs for Blair. ]
The corners of my lips wobble and I have to smash them together to prevent my chin from trembling too. “That’s what you said our freshman year too.”
“Hah,” he laughs. “I must still be bad at comforting you then.”
“No,” I say quietly as I relax my head into the sand and stare at the sky again. “You’re very good at it.”
He must know I’ve laid down to avoid being looked at while I fight grateful tears, so he joins me in looking at the sky.
[foreshadow]“I don’t know if your dad is in your future, but I know I will be,” he says, voice husky like it’s been forced from his throat. “If you let me be.”
“Of course I will.” There’s nothing I want more, I don’t add.
We let the tender hope of it lay between us. The twinkling stars and whispering ocean are our only witnesses.
“I would like to know what I’m doing for work at the age of forty,” he says abruptly.
I chuckle, his sudden way of talking has always been my favorite. [I remember the panic of telling my childhood besties we’d be friends forever, but not knowing how it’d be feasible. (Don’t worry, we’re still besties!)] “Why forty? And why work?” I ask.
“Because,” he says. “If I do end up making it to the NFL, it’s not a career that lasts your entire life.
Unless you’re Tom Brady and you play football until you’re, like, eighty.
But sometimes, I get scared that I don’t have my finger on the pulse of anything other than football.
I don’t know what I’d find myself doing once I didn’t have to think about it twenty-four seven.
Which is kind of destabilizing, you know?
” he finishes with effort, punctuating each word. [Foreshadow]
“Hmm,” I muse, craving a deflection from the rising panic of where we’ll be in that many years.
We don’t even know where we’re going to college.
“First of all, you will make it to the NFL, and second, anyone who uses the word ‘destabilizing’ in a casual sentence is smart enough to figure out what to do with their time.”
His eyes dart down to my mouth, half-smirking as I wait for his chuckle. After it arrives, I take a more sincere approach. “You’re too creative to stay bored for long. You like engineering, right? You could build stuff.” [Like a coffee shop and bird houses :)]
“That’s not a bad idea,” he says, more so to himself like he’s rolling the thought over in his mind. “Not a bad idea at all.”
The seed of doubt worms its way back to the forefront of my mind. I don’t want to put a damper on our first date by thinking so far into the future, but we’ve already applied to colleges. Don’t we need to put some forethought into how we’ll last past high school? [!!]
“Declan,” I start, unable to push off the racing thoughts. “How is this going to work if we go to different colleges?”
“We applied to a lot of the same ones, right?” he replies, not missing a beat.
“It’s just that…” I peter off, realizing I’m in danger of souring the mood.
My hand subconsciously lifts to my mouth to chew on a hangnail.
“Hey.” Declan shifts himself up onto his elbow and gently grabs my wrist, pulling my hand away from my mouth. “I know it’s scary to think about where we’ll end up in a few months, but let’s talk about it. Walk me through what you’re thinking about.” [A foreign concept to Blair]
“Well,” I falter.
Apparently converting my feelings into words is a pathway my neurons are unfamiliar with. “It’s just that… okay, let me start here.”