Where are you now? by Debora Lucken (books for 10th graders TXT) 📕

At the eve of my wedding, I allow myself one last trip... down Memory Lane.
Summer 1999. Do you remember it, Matthew?
Do you recall our eyes meeting across a table full of friends?
And me asking you ‘Wanna come to Squeezy?’
And you, confused like a puppy, asking back ‘What’s Squeezy?’
I was smiling. I know I was, while telling you ‘The new club, down Merington Street. It’s supposed to be very good.’
I’ve never been shy and even the idea that someone could be so didn’t quite fly with me. But you were, weren’t you?
Did I scare you that night? Is that why you declined my invitation?
I will never know, I guess, but that night didn’t really matter.
That night I didn’t know you yet. That night I didn’t love you yet. That night I didn’t know that I would regret not spending more time with you when I could.
You know, Matt, I always associate you with travelling. Every time I go to an airport or even a train station, I always, always look for you amongst the sea of travellers. I know you only left once, but don’t forget, that was also the last thing I saw you doing.
Or maybe, it’s just that I’ve imagined you coming back to me so many times...

At the beginning of July, we met again. Different table, same friends, same beautiful blue eyes. Yours.
‘Hi’ Was all we managed to say to each other for almost the whole evening.
‘Amy, are you going to Squeezy?’ Which of my friends told you my name?
‘No, that place’s overrated, if you ask me. We’re off to Bulldog.’ I replied.
‘The... dog?’ You asked uncertain and I laughed. It was just so funny... you, you were just so much fun to be with.
‘Wanna tag along?’ I was trying to sound indifferent, but Dear God, I really wasn’t. The way you looked at me that night changed me somehow.
Your eyes, your beautiful smile, and the kindness of your voice... they all changed the way I look at things. From that night on, Love had an image and it wasn’t only a word. Love became you, and you became my love.
Matt, do you remember? You did come with us that night, but didn’t say much to me all evening. You didn’t try to kiss me, you didn’t dance with me, you didn’t’ look my way when other guys were much bolder than you. If I’d gone for someone else that night, things would have been very different.
For one, I wouldn’t have driven you to your car. And I would have wished we could have been alone. And, the next day, you wouldn’t have texted me very early just to make sure I’d get to my study group on time.

How did you get my number?
I asked you after your first message.

Your red-headed friend gave it to me.
I too was red-headed at the time.

Cool! Thanks for waking me up. I’d better get ready now.

When I came back from the shower, your message was waiting for me.

Don’t you want to know why?

I replied:
Why... what?

It took you less than a second to answer me back

Why I’m waking you up.

The answer seemed obvious to me

Because last night I kept telling you, and everybody who’d listen, that I had to study today, even though it’s a Saturday?

While I was blow-drying my short hair you wrote again.

Wrong! It’s because I stayed up all night thinking about you and plotting ways to be in touch with you. Did it work?

I smiled, excited, ecstatic...

I guess it did... Well done! ;)

If you’d been in my room that morning you’d have had no doubts that my message didn’t express at all what I was feeling. But my racing heart did.

It took you another 3 messages to ask me out and it took me a lot less to say yes.

Was it cold or warm the night of our first date? Was it a Saturday or a Monday? Did it take me long to get ready? Was I late?
I honestly don’t remember those little details, but I do remember your sweet eyes looking at me and your smile shining for me.
What did we drink? Where did we go?
I don’t know, but it’s all right... it’s no longer important.
That night you told me about your desire to become a pilot.
‘Flying places is my dream.’ You said ‘I’ve a pilot licence for the little ones, but I really want to fly bigger planes.’
I guess it’s weird to hear a 19-year-old telling you such an unrealistic dream.
‘I wanna be a writer.’ I replied, the way teens do when confessing dirty secrets to each other.
I didn’t really think you’d ever be a pilot, just as I didn’t really believe in my writing skills. ‘Dreams,’ I added ‘are so great, aren’t they?’ I smiled and took a sip of whatever was in my glass.
‘They’re even better when they become true.’ That one little sentence, those words that you said so casually, haunted me for years.
How right were you, Matt? How did you know?
Did I dream the way you kissed me in your car before driving me home?
Oh, Matthew, I might have forgotten many things about the way we were, but I could never forget your lips. Soft, gentle, sweet.
The taste of tobacco in our mouths and my peachy lipstick makes the memories of that kiss so much more special.
Nothing could stop us, then. You would come to find me wherever I was and, more often than not, you’d scoop me away from my study group. The way you made love to me for the first time was magical. I’d never thought or even imagined sex could feel that good and that right.
Hey, Matt, I know it’s embarrassing, but... do you remember? We did it everywhere!
In your car, in my car, on the roof of my school and in the classrooms. However, the best one remains the time in Summerfield. The ground was painful and we did get bitten by all sorts of mosquitoes and got some bruises here and there, but Matt, making love with you under the starry sky of my 19th summer, surrounded by fireflies, is one of the few memories of my life that are worth reliving when I die.
‘Amy, let’s go somewhere before you restart college.’ You proposed one day towards the end of August.
‘I’m kind of broke. Where can we go that’s cheap?’
Mind you, I would have gone anywhere you wanted.
‘My parents have a house in Bath. Wanna go there?’
You didn’t have to ask me twice. And, in less than a week, we were there, walking the touristy streets of such a beautiful city.
‘I’m off to Fort Piece in Florida in a month.’
Your words didn’t quite get me or vice versa, I guess.
‘Florida... America?’ I asked.
‘Of course, where else?’ You laughed a little, without considering that you going on holiday without me didn’t exactly make happy. Was I that addicted to you?
‘Who are you going with?’ I asked.
‘Nobody! I’m going alone.’ Your answer seemed obvious. I was clearly missing something.
‘Are you going there on holiday?’ I knew, I already knew the answer to that silly question.
‘No, Amy... I’m going to make my dreams come true.’
Did you realize that part of me was already dying?
‘I’ve enrolled in a flight training school over there. If everything goes to plan, I’ll be a pilot in 4 years!’
Why were you so happy then? Why weren’t you more upset about leaving me behind?
‘Don’t cry Amy. Please, be happy for me.’
I blinked. Oh, I was crying. I blinked again, and that’s when I woke up from our two months of love. The horrible part was that I still loved you. It took me all of my courage, only the sort of courage a woman is capable of, to smile, dry my tears and lie to you.
‘I’m sorry. It must have been the shock. Of course I’m happy for you.’
I even hugged you, I let you kiss me, cook dinner for me, pour me delicious wine and let you talk all evening about Florida, and all the things you wanted to do and see there. Later, I let you make love to me and for the first time, I didn’t feel anything. By telling me you were leaving me, you started a process of slow murder.
The last month together in London, I attempted to understand you. I really did. Were you honest every time you claimed to love me? Did you even care about me? More and more questions that will never get answered.
‘I don’t think you should see me off tomorrow.’
That was probably your final blow in your attempt to kill me.
‘I don’t think I should either.’ More lies.
You know what? I did come. At the airport I was there. I saw your parents wishing you good luck. I saw your little brother hugging you, but I stayed away from your party. A cross between a stalker and a spectator of a show I desperately wanted to be part of. Why couldn’t I find the courage to come out and let you see me cry? Why couldn’t I say goodbye to you, ever?
And, more importantly, why I could never hate you is still a mystery to me even now, 10 years later.

A few months after you left, as I was still trying to get over you, I did receive your card and one of our photos with it. Of course, I can still remember perfectly what it said.
‘Somewhere, between yesterday and tomorrow, our Love will live forever.’
Your words, once again, haunted me for a long time. Did that mean that you still cared? Why did you leave then? Of course, you will never answer those questions, but it’s all right now. I found out the answers by myself. You were simply braver, less selfish and more mature than me. Now I understand that being tied up to someone and somewhere at 19 is wrong. Now, I appreciate that what you did was to make our love story memorable and not just lived.
With you by my side, I couldn’t have been the woman I am today. I wouldn’t have worked so hard to become the strong and opinionated me that I am now. I wouldn’t have tried to achieve anything, because with you I thought I had everything life had to offer.
So, this is it, then. Our love story’s journey ends here. I wonder when exactly you left the ride and how long I kept going round and round and round in the same empty carriage. But now, I too get off and leave our memories behind. And with confidence and a smile on my face, I think of you, because once upon a time, I loved you.