Driving.

I met a boy, Dolan, about halfway through my senior year and we hit it off immediately. Two months into our relationship people were making bets on when we were going to get engaged. His parents love me, and mine adore him. We were both accepted to the same colleges, and being as naïve as high school sweethearts can be, we chose to go to the same college. Over Fall Break of our sophomore year he asked my father to marry me, and on the first day back I stood in the middle of the Quad as he got down on one knee in the snow in front of all my friends and asked me to marry him. I said yes.

That night I had the dream.

I had a month before school started and 6 months until my wedding. If there was anything I could think of that I needed to do before doing either of those, was find Chris. We had casually kept in touch, emails mainly. If on the odd chance we were both on instant messenger at the same time we would check in on each other. Nothing like the way we used to be.

About halfway through the 5 hour drive I started to reminisce about how Chris and I used to be. “Dumbass” and “Dipshit” were our names for each other, “loser” being the common ground. If I ever had a problem I could always count on him for a very vague piece of advice which I never understood. If he needed help picking up a girl or needed an idea for one of his experiments, I was always there. He would help me get ready for dates, banquets, concerts, proms… anything where appearance mattered really. When I was scared about school or my future he would always comfort me, telling me that he’d ‘been there, done that’ and it was really nothing to be too worried about. College was a breeze for him, and it would be for me too. He said little things like that to keep me calm and sane.

We lived directly across the street from each other, which made life that much simpler for us to hang out.

I began passing the exit signs for Baltimore and began to grow nervous. I hadn’t called anyone but my roommate as I left. This was something big. Thoughts of “should I be doing this” and “why am I doing this” crawled through my head.

I pulled out my phone and took a deep breath. I set it in my lap and pulled into a parking spot near the docks and got out. I went down the little walk way and sat on a bench while thumbing through my contacts until I got to “Chris Parker”. I contemplated hitting the dial button because it was about four years ago that I had gotten his number. I did it anyway and waited. It rang three times before there was an answer.

“Hello?” “Hey…” “Is something wrong?” “That would depend on how you look at it.” “Where are you?” “Um… The docks near the aquarium.” “Okay. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.” “Alright.” I sat on the bench messing with the rings on my finger. I watched boats come in and go out of the harbor and several dozen seagulls fly over head. I tried touching up my makeup but I was too distracted. The air was damp and slightly cold and smelled of fish, salt, and bog because of the chill I slid my gloves on. A shadow fell over my lap as I pulled the second glove on and I looked up.