His eyes met mine then, the broken look on his face almost tearing my heart out, the sad, sad realization that our minutes together were numbered. After all the months of postponing the inevitable, there we were, left with mere seconds to spend with one another.
He came over to me, grabbed my hands in his and planted a sweet kiss on my lips. “No, probably not. But only because I can’t imagine ever wanting to be with anyone else ever again.”
My stomach wrenched, actually causing me physical pain. How could he say something like that to me? My heart was already shattering into a million pieces and I was already doing all I could not to break down in tears.
“Trip... don’t.”
Oh God, please don’t say it. Please, please-
“I’m in love with you, Layla.”
I dropped my head as the tears came rolling down my cheeks; despite my resolve, I was completely incapable of stopping them. You’d think that I would have been bursting at the seams with joy, finally hearing him say the words I could only dream about for the better part of an entire year. But I was too crushed to feel any sort of elation at his admission. And the truth was, I already knew how he felt.
“Trip. Stop!”
“No, Layla. I won’t stop.” He moved closer, cradling my head to his chest before continuing. “I know you’re leaving and I would never try to keep you from going, and I guess I have my own path to follow as well. But don’t ever ask me to stop loving you, because I can’t. Don’t ever think I’ll be able to forget you, because I won’t.”
I was actually sobbing against him then, my shoulders heaving, my tears dampening the front of his T-shirt, causing tiny, dark blue spots to appear across his chest.
I wanted to freeze us in time, like one of those museum displays that Holden Caulfield was so fixated on, or seal the two of us off from the world with plexiglass like Thomas Edison’s desk.
I was about to tell him I loved him, too, that I didn’t need to go, that we could both stay right there at home forever and ever, amen. It could be so easy for us to just decide to stay right where we were, loving each other for the rest of our lives.
We don’t have to say goodbye.
But the words caught in my throat and I didn’t say anything.
He kissed the top of my head and asked, “But I want you to promise me something, okay?”
My eyes were spilling over and I could barely breathe, but I managed to ask, “What’s that?”
He put his hands on either side of my face, looked right into my eyes and said, “Be happy. Wherever you wind up. And know that I’ll be thinking of you, wherever I am.” At that, he bent his face to mine and I let him kiss me for the last time.
Oh, the drama! Is there anything so powerful as the love of two teenagers being ripped apart?
He tore his mouth from mine and shook his head, defeated. “I can’t do this. It’s too hard.”
He reached into his truck through the open window and pulled out a pale blue envelope. He placed it in my hands before swiping his thumb across my dampened cheek, his knuckles grazing my neck. I was trying to think of something to say, some memorable, monumental, perfect parting words.
But for some reason, I found a smile cracking through my tears, and the words that left my lips were, “Stay gold, Ponyboy.”
At first, Trip looked at me stunned, like he couldn’t believe I was being so blasphemous as to make light of such a serious situation. But then, he started to smile too, a beautiful, final, charming grin, just for me.
After he’d gone, I watched, too depleted to be emotional as his truck drove down my street for the final time. I looked down at the envelope in my hand and decided to go have a seat in the backyard to open it.
When I did, the first thing I saw was a picture of Trip and me from graduation, the one his father had taken when Trip had scooped me into his arms. I looked at the smiling faces in the image, smirking to myself when I remembered how later in that evening, we’d shared our first kiss.
The photograph had been sandwiched by a piece of folded looseleaf notebook paper, and I recognized what I was holding immediately. I couldn’t believe that I’d finally gotten my hands on Trip’s Mind Ramble from our very first week in English class together.
I put the picture across my lap and unfolded his note.
Hey Dummy. What are you working on in art class? You missed Rymer blow Coke out his nose at lunch today. Although, something tells me that’s not the first time that’s ever happened.
Shit. Mason wants a mind ramble.
Romeo was a complete tool who had no balls. Which is it? Rosaline or Juliet? Make up your mind dude.
Okay forget this. I can’t write about stupid Shakespeare when you’re sitting two inches away from me and I can smell your hair. Coconut? Smells like summer. Okay so I just caught the look you shot me over your shoulder and you need to know that I can’t even breathe right now. I haven’t even known you that long but from the first time I saw you, I’ve been knocked out by how hot you are. No. You know what? Not just hot.
You’re beautiful.