Devyn

Present

It was the kind of thing you see in movies - the girl/boy best friends who make a promise to each other that if they aren't married by twenty-five, they'll marry each other.

For me, even before I was twelve and made that promise, it was always Pierce. He was my best friend since we were five. We met in kindergarten and were immediately inseparable. There were never any complications in our friendship, either. We had other friends, but he was my closest friend and I was his. Honestly, that summer afternoon right before Pierce's twelfth birthday is a core memory for me.

"That is so dumb," I told him, shaking my head.

"It's not dumb. If you meet the love of your life and get married before you're twenty five, so be it. I'll be happy for you. But I want to get married and after twenty five, not much hope." He was laughing at the look on my face.

"We're not going to marry each other," I said, then stuck out my tongue.

Pierce let out a loud laugh and then held out his hand. "Just shake on it. Please."

I reached out with hesitation and shook it. If there was one person I trusted with anything, it was him. "Fine. Twenty-five is a long way away."

My best friend laughed again. And that was that.

  But that was almost fourteen years ago. As with everyone, a lot changed in all those years. I didn't expect him to keep that promise, as I'm sure he didn't think I would keep it, either.

*

  "Miss Hunt?" I hear my name from across the music room - my place of work, on a Wednesday afternoon.

  I'm twenty-four, a high school music teacher, and my life is finally stable and good, after the last couple of years. I came back to New Jersey after college, because of the accident. My mom needed me. We needed each other. That was two years ago and I am still in Trenton. I still live with my mom. I never planned on coming back after I went to New York City for college, but things don't always turn out how we plan them.

  "Hey, Cam," I say to the teenage boy who seems to be calling me.

  He's just got his head poked into the room, his mop of dark hair in his eyes, and I'm at my desk, waiting for my next class to begin.

  "Um, I won't be in class today," he tells me, but he looks upset about it. "My mom's picking me up early for an appointment."

  "Thanks for letting me know," I say, and there's a part of me that wants to ask if he's okay.

  He gives me a quick nod and is gone before I even get the chance.

  Highschoolers are weird creatures.

  I know I was a puzzle when I was a teenager, my parents told me all the time. Up until the end of high school, I had Pierce by my side. We were weird together. I focused on music - piano, mostly - and he played sports and went to parties. But we still fit together, even when we were sixteen. Things didn't really changed until the next summer.

  My next class - senior band - fills my room a few minutes later. It's eighty percent senior students with a few amazing juniors and they are very committed to the class. Most of them take private lessons outside of school on their instrument of choice, just as I did when I was their age. These are great kids, and I've been teaching them for two years now.

  We have a Winter Showcase coming in a couple weeks, so they get started right away on their pieces. There's a few solos and a few group numbers we've been working on. The kids are are a mix of excited and nervous, which is just how they should be.

  It's November, about half way through our first semester of the school year. I never planned on becoming a music teacher, at least not when I was in high school. My music teacher was like a good friend, she pushed me hard but was loving and sweet, too. When I got accepted to NYU for a music major, she was my biggest supporter and fan, while my parents were worried about me moving to the big city and pursuing music, since it wasn't a "real" career. After my first year, I switched to teaching as my major with music as my minor. I graduated as a music teacher when I was twenty-two, and ended up back in New Jersey just a month later.

  My last two classes of the day go quickly and I'm packing up when my phone buzzes on my desk. It's after 3P.M. and a Wednesday, so I reach for it to see who's texting.

  Oz: Hey babe, I want to take you to dinner tonight. Meet me at my place at 5?

  My boyfriend, John Ozwald, is an elementary school gym teacher, as his full time gig. On the weekends, he works at his best friend's indoor skate park. He's like a twenty five year old kid. He's outgoing and loud and funny, and we've been together a bit over a year.

  He's also spontaneous, which is something I'm not. On Wednesdays, I go home and do laundry and make dinner for mom and I. She gets home a bit after 6P.M. and we eat together and talk. I like routine and knowing plans in advance. Oz likes running by the seat of his pants.

  My first reaction is to tell him that I have plans tonight, but he knows what I usually do on Wednesday nights. He thinks I'm boring and teases me about it. A lot.

  Me: Okay, I'll be there

  It's out of my comfort zone, changing my schedule. But for him, I will do it. 

  We met at a summer teacher's conference, though we never really should have met. He was supposed to be in a meeting at the far side of the building but was running late and I was waiting in the lobby for my next presentation to begin. I stood up just as he was jogging past and we bumped right into each other.

  He called me pretty and flirted for a minute before telling me he was late and had to go, but then he spun back around and asked me for my number. I'd never had anything like that happen before, and it felt like a big moment, so I gave him my cell number. He called me the next day, and we met up for breakfast. He lives in Edison, which is an annoying forty five minute commute. But we've made it work so far.

  When I get home, I feed my mom's cat and get changed. It's already three-thirty and I only have half an hour before I have to leave to meet Oz. We rarely see each other during the week for this very reason, but I often stay in his apartment over the weekend so we get more time together.

  I text my mom, Going to Edison for dinner tonight. See you later, and then fix my make up and make a coffee before heading out again. I'm so used to this drive now, I feel like I could do it with my eyes closed. It's snowy today so I'm driving careful, and it's just about 5P.M. when I pull up to his apartment building.

  Oz is standing outside the building, waiting for me. This is unusual behaviour. He's usually running late or I'm waiting for him to finish getting ready before we leave. So seeing him there immediately makes me nervous. I park my car in the lot and get out, as he just walking towards me. He's smiling, but it looks forced. His short hair is styled as normal and he's wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He doesn't usually dress up this much to go out to dinner.

"Babe," he says as soon as he's close enough.

I fall into him and he wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head.

"Hey, I'm surprised you're waiting on me," I say without really thinking.

He laughs as he steps back, looking me over.

I put on a regular dress, it's not fancy but it's nice, and tights and my nice pea coat. Oz grins and pulls me in again, kissing me.

"Why the impromptu weekday dinner?" I ask, as he grabs for my hand.

He looks guilty for a second but then smiles again. "Just wanted to see you. Let's go, we're taking my car."