He liked bugs and playing soldiers. I liked playing with my Barbie's and making cupcakes for my class during my birthday. I liked ripe, soft apricots and he liked to be covered in mud. I was a devoted Christian and he was still confused on what he wanted to believe in.
Of course that was when we were young. Our parents were always together, best friends. Which meant I had to put up with him for my entire life. Through stuffed toys and skinned knees, heartbreaks and pleasant times. We have been through times where I hated the very breath he dared to breathe around me and other times when his hug made all the pain go away. But, no matter what, he's always been there for me.
I once got in trouble and decided I didn't need anyone I knew. I wanted to go to Broadway and see my name in lights, just like any other young girl. So I packed my bags and ran away. I only got to the bus stop a few blocks away. I would have never gotten on the bus without him anyway so there was no point even standing there. And as I remember it now I can still feel the raindrops on my head and how they suddenly disappeared when he put an umbrella over my head and whispered how much he wanted me to stay with him.
So I stayed.
We stayed in his tree house in his backyard, his shaggy old tabby cat laid between us as we talked about why I tried to leave. We stayed there for hours until I finally fell asleep with my head resting in his lap. He told me later he couldn't get to sleep that night because all he could think about was what he would have done if he would have woke up and never seen me again.
For three days I stayed at his house, in his bed as he slept on the floor. Mother and father knew why I had to stay with him. I couldn't stand to go back to see them and see their faces so disappointed in me.
I was about thirteen when that happened. I guess now I know better. I'm twenty-one, in college, far away from home and Conner. I miss his smell of laundry and the cheap cologne that he only bought because I liked it. It smelled like a night sky, if you can imagine it. The bottle was this deep purple and I only remember it because he broke it and the smell was all over his bed for weeks. I would lie in his bed just for the smell, hoping it would rub off on me.
He ended up making a pendant for my necklace out of the broken glass. He took it the glass to school and used a blowtorch to make a beautifully rounded gem. Whenever I don't feel so well I enjoy touching it, rolling it between my fingers. It always makes me feel better.
As I think about him now I wonder what he is doing. Has he gone to college? He was in the same grade as me but I had never asked him whether he would go to a university or anything. It hadn't occurred to me to ask. Then the other question that nagged at my mind was if he had found himself a nice girl to make a home with. I know it sounds mean but goodness how I hope he hasn't. He always said he would never find another girl. That he loved me no matter what.
Sometimes I wonder if he forgot his promise. But I may never know. I haven't seen or heard from him since I graduated high school. Mother always told me that was how it would happen. I'd make friends during high school and lose touch with them when I left. I miss a lot of them. It's one of those things where you stay with them through your entire school life and then you can't imagine life without them until you leave to move on with life. But most of all I miss Conner.
There's no doubt about it. Love is hard work.

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