Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 80342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Derrick
I found myself whistling as I walked down the driveway with my hands shoved into the pockets of my slacks. I can’t remember the last time I whistled, or the last time I felt this happy or this light. I had a look on my face that I’m sure that anyone who knew me, as a teen, would recognize, a look I haven’t worn in way too long to remember.
As I got closer to that space between her house and mine, it’s like my heart chose that very moment to open up and bring everything back to mind. All the memories from our time together when we were young. All the things that I’d forgotten and wish I hadn’t.
I saw her as the child she was, trailing along behind me, running out into the street after the ball while I yelled at her to stop being stupid even though no one hardly ever drove carelessly in our neighborhood.
I remember her serious little face and how she never seemed to laugh with anyone but me, and more I remembered that she always seemed to be too smart for her age. That way, she had of thinking things through before speaking, of being precise in her speech when she answered a question, the same traits I see in her now. How could I have forgotten so much?
The memories came hard and fast, flitting through my mind like an old picture reel. One thing stood out in particular. It was that day, the day that she’d staked her claim on me without me even realizing that that’s what it was. What sane person would put any stock in what an eight-year-old said?
But when I look back at the way we were then and where we are now, it’s almost surreal. And then my mind started going in other directions. Like wondering what it would be like to know something so instinctively that you never gave up hope in it. Never wavered from believing.
What would it have been like if I were the one who held onto that love for her and had to watch her go off and have a whole other life away from me? I stumbled over my foot as a sudden pain hit me in the gut. Damn, will I ever get over the guilt?
It’s strange how things change when you’re in love. The thought of how hurt she must’ve been when I didn’t remember her, or way before that when I went off and got married to someone else, while she’d been here waiting hit me in the heart and gut.
I’m such a fuck up I don’t deserve that kind of love. But I plan to spend the rest of my life making sure that I’m worthy of it, of her. I don’t fully understand truth be told, not how she could’ve known back then or what force brought us back together now, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I gave a quick thought to Lauren and the life we’d had, and I felt almost guilty for wanting the one I have now more.
I shook those thoughts off as I told myself that had she not fucked up, I wouldn’t have cheated on her, wouldn’t have torn our family apart. That’s one of the things that defy reason for me in this whole situation. What would’ve happened had we not moved back here?
Would things have still progressed the way they have? Or would our lives have taken a different course? It’s hard to answer those questions myself. All I know is that the thought of losing Jenny leaves me feeling more desperate than I did when Lauren left.
Now I felt alive as the cold winter air brushed against my face. Like I’d been asleep for a long, long time and awakened to a bright, beautiful day. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get this night over with so that we could get started on the beginning of the rest of our lives.
She makes me want things, things that I’d put aside after the accident all those years ago. Things that I taught myself not to want because they didn’t fit into my new structured life. I realized as I got closer to my destination that she’d brought me back to life.
When I reached the bottom of her driveway, I came up short. I can’t believe I’m doing this shit in this day and age, do people even do stuff like this anymore? Somehow it seems to fit. Jenny, for all that she’s a freak in my bed, has that kind of old-world charm about her.
She’s the kind of woman you want to treat with all the loving care she deserves, like opening doors and pulling out her chair. No wonder I thought of putting great-grandma’s ring on her finger instead of buying her a new one.