Present

Devyn

My days seems to be flying by, as is the school year. It's already almost the end of February. Oz and I been in our new house for almost two months. My students are now working on their Spring pieces. We don't do another big performance until May, but they have to work on individual and group pieces to be tested on in April. This is the time of year that I really see their growth and it's a lot of fun watching their personalities shine, too.

  Being a teacher is pretty great, most of the time.

  Today was a long day, though. I ended up working through my lunch break. Clara Bell, one of my favourite students - even though I'm not supposed to say that - came to me and asked if I could give her some extra help learning the start of her violin piece. She should be at least half way done by now, and when I questioned her on this, she looked at me with sad eyes and told me her mom is sick and she hasn't had a chance to work on it at home. She's a seventeen year old girl who has to take care of her siblings most of the time, outside of school hours, and it really broke my heart finding this out. I've promised her she can come in over my lunch break or stay late after school when she's able to, so we can get her caught up.

  It's after 4P.M. and I'm finally making my way through the parking lot, to my car, while also eating the first half of the sandwich I packed for lunch. My stomach growls and my phone rings, just as I open the door and toss my purse inside the car. Once I'm in the car, I dig out my phone.

  "Mom? What's up?" I answer, seeing her name on the caller ID. It's weird that she's calling me at this time on a Friday, so I instantly get concerned.

   "I just worked a half day today, so I'm home," she begins, sounding fairly normal. I force myself to relax as I start my car. "But, uh, there's someone here to see you."

  My first thought goes to Oz, but that would be weird if my mom was calling me about that. There's no reason why Oz would be in Trenton at her house, or for her to tell me this. I can't wrap my head around who it is and she's not giving me any hints, so I just finish the sandwich and then put my car into reverse.

  "Alright, well I'll be over there soon. Leaving the school now," I tell her, trying to sound casual, though my heart is pounding with uncertainty.

  Usually I drive straight home to Plainsboro after work. Generally on Tuesday and sometimes Wednesday, my mom gets off early and I go and visit her for a bit before driving home. I'm still tagging along to her writer's workshops, even though I've also met up with Kyleen and Lara weekly since we met. We text all the time, too. It's still sort of weird that here, Trenton, isn't my home anymore.

  But today, I have to drive to my mom's house to find out what's going on.

"Okay, honey." Still, she doesn't sound upset or concerned, so I try to ignore the tight feeling in my chest as I drive to her house.

  I don't recognize the car parked on the road. It's a white sports car of some sort. It's really nice, actually. Before I get out of my car and go towards the house, I pull out my phone and text Oz, since he's probably on his way home by now.

  Just at my mom's. Be home in a bit.

  The front hall is empty but I can hear voices coming from the kitchen. I know something isn't right, but I walk through anyway. I'm far too nervous and I have to wipe my hands on my pants to dry them, then take in a deep breath before turning the corner to the kitchen.

  There's not a doubt in my mind who it is, sitting at the table across from my mom. I suck in a breath and grab the door frame for stability, just as the two of them look over at me. My hair is pulled back in a messy pony tail and my dress shirt is now untucked. My jacket is on but open. I wonder if he thinks I look different, all these years later.

  He looks completely put together, but older, much more grown up. He's wearing jeans and a button up grey shirt, his hair - far shorter than I've ever seen it - styled. All I can think about is how I wish my mom had told me on the phone that it was him. Pierce Boden, my best friend from when I was five until we were eighteen.

  We haven't seen each other in over five years.

  He went to jail when he was almost nineteen, after I hadn't talked to him in almost a year. After our fight. Of course, I heard about his sentencing and his jail time. He got five years, all because of that stupid graduation party and the stupid fight. I remember that afternoon that I heard the news that he was going to jail. I was in New York, in my dorm room. My mom sent me a link to an article about it. It felt like Pierce was just some random guy that I didn't even know.

  I don't know what to say and there's a huge lump in my throat stopping me from talking, anyway. If he got five years when he was nineteen, he would have just got out recently. It's not that I haven't thought about Pierce over the years. I have thought about his sentencing a lot. I wondered if he missed me or cared that it had been so long since we'd talked. But I moved on, I had to.

  It wasn't like I didn't have my own shit to deal with, two years later.

  Things had been pretty shitty for me, too, while he was gone.

"Wow," is his first word to me in almost six years.

  I step back, pressing myself against the wall of the kitchen. A million memories flash through my mind. I am a grown ass woman and he's a very grown ass man now. We don't know each other any more. So why am I flooded with these warm feelings and memories from when we were kids?

   "What are you doing here?" I ask, because it's the only thing that feels right.

  My mom is still sitting there in the kitchen, a few feet away from us. I glance at her and she shrugs and then gives me a smile. I'm so conflicted and so confused and shocked. I really  wish she'd told me on the phone that it was him. But really, what would I have one differently? I don't even know.

   "I'll give you two a minute," my mom says quietly.

   "No, Mom, you don't have to."

   "Devyn, just... let him talk."

  I look back at Pierce, his sharp green eyes look brighter than I remember them. Let him talk? Why should I? He waits until my mom has left the room to say anything else.

   "Devyn... I've spent the last year trying to figure out what I would do, what I would say, when I... finally saw you again."

    I wait.

   "Last summer... I got out on good behavior. I... stayed in Lakewood with my uncle, and I got my shit together."

   "You got out of jail a year ago?" I ask, confused.

   "Well, I guess, like seven months ago."

    I nod. I have no words.

   "My mom hasn't returned a single call or bothered to talk to me since I've been out. So... I got a job and I just pushed through and kept to myself."

  Staring at this man now, with facial hair and his blonde hair cut shorter than I've ever see it, it's easy to forget the things that happened before he disappeared. It's easy to want to forgive him and hug him and be happy he's back. But my heart is cracking and my brain is sending off alarm bells. Warning signs.

  He kissed you and then had sex with someone else the same night.

  He had sex with you, and then your only other good friend, a few weeks later.

  He went to jail.

   "So, what are you doing, here?" I want to know.

  He looks nervous, his eyes darting around the room, as he runs a hand through his hair. I notice a tattoo on his wrist as he does this. I want to know what it is and when he got it. I realize that I don't like this feeling that I don't know him anymore.

   "It's almost your birthday," he finally says.

  So what? He already missed a lot of my birthdays. I'd turned 20, 21, 22, 23 and 24. I'd already gone through the hardest thing of my life, losing my dad and my sister. I didn't have him then. I have already moved on and have a new life, without Pierce in it.

   "So?" I ask him, avoiding his eyes.

  It feels very surreal that this is really happening. That he's really in the kitchen of my mom's house, where we grew up eating breakfast and dinners together. Where we always sat to sing Happy Birthday and then eat those amazing cakes my mom would make up.

   "So... you're almost twenty-five. I want to keep my promise, Dev."

  Dev. Only Oz calls me Dev now, so this makes my entire body shiver.

  He's lost his mind. We haven't seen each other since we were teenagers. That stupid promise we made when we were twelve? It doesn't mean anything now, because of all the shit that's happened. It never meant anything. Sure, I agreed to marry him if I wasn't married by twenty-five. But I'm engaged. I have Oz.

   "Well, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," I say, trying to sound as casual as I can.

   "It is?" he asks.

  "Yes."

  Pierce steps back and looks me over. "God..."

  I don't recognize the look in his eyes. "What?"

  He runs a hand though his short hair and steps forward again, his eyes not leaving me at all. He's got some facial hair on his cheeks and chin, not quite a beard. This is all so strange, seeing him look so different but knowing it's still him. He was my best friend, my everything, for so long.

   "You look so good," he says, and then blinks a few times as if he can't believe he said it out loud.

  He should know better. Just like he should have known better than to kiss me that night on my eighteenth birthday and then go home with another girl. Just like he should have known better than to beat up some guy who was making fun of me at the graduation party. But he doesn't know better, apparently.

  "Thanks," I say quickly, pulling at the bottom of my jacket. Why am I still wearing my jacket?

  "Dev, this is not exactly how I imagined seeing you again. I wanted to take you out for dinner. I wanted to get a chance to talk and explain-"

  "You don't get to do that," I interrupt him, shaking my head. I slip off my jacket now and drop it onto the back of one of the chairs.

  Pierce stops and gives his head a quick shake. "Why?"

  "Seriously? Why? The things that went down before you went to jail," I say quickly. "And the things that have happened since then."

  I don't know if he knows about the accident. About how my dad and my sister are gone. I don't know what he knows or doesn't know. This visit was too unexpected. It's been too long since we've been in contact.

  "You should go," I say and it's not that unlike the last time I saw him.

  Pain shoots through my chest, remembering that day.

    "Okay," he nods anyway.

  "I just need to... think. And take this in," I go on.

  "Got it." He forces a smile. "Will you text me, if I leave my new number?"

  "Maybe," I tell him.

    He walks across the kitchen and picks up the white board marker, uncaps it and writes a number on the little board on the fridge, then puts the marker back and turns back to me. I don't smile or say anything, and he takes in a deep breath before walking past me and going back towards the door.