They held hands as they walked in unison down the street. Fingers intertwined, footsteps so rhythmic, it looked as if they had rehearsed beforehand. The crisp night air took her long, brown hair and swirled it around, dropping it so that it landed perfectly on her new yellow shirt. She wore it to impress him. He didn’t notice. He used to tell her she was beautiful. He walked with his eyes downcast, pondering life and its enormity. The street was filled with laughter and happiness but neither of the two paid any attention. They were too immersed in memories.
They fell in love from the minute they began talking. She had never showed much interest in him, unlike the other girls who would prance around him with their low cut shirts, hoping that a view of their plunging cleavage would draw the attention of the star football player. Ryan was never the dating type until he met her. She gave him a chase, made him work for it, and in the end she made him want to be a better person. He was doing very well in school, and obviously excelling on the field. It was never good enough for his father who was a brutal, crass man with permanently squinting eyes and a frown so defined it looked as if he’d never known how to smile.
Ryan would always tell her that she was pretty but she would never believe him. Acquaintances would think of her as awkward, noticing only her surface shyness and not the vibrant, easygoing girl that she really was. Some days after school they would go back to her house and she would put on some music and practice twirling around in front of him, eventually falling in a heap on top of him and making him laugh. They made each other happy.
Ryan spent every day with her. There was no one else in their little world; it was like they had forgotten about life around them. With rose-colored glasses on, they discussed their future, their plans, and their dreams. Friends were no longer in the picture, they were abandoned much as a child grows out of worn in toys, cast away, forgotten, and replaced by something shiny and new.
Parents were a symbol of authority, something that no longer existed in their realm of reality. Ryan’s father never accepted their relationship. “You’re too young to be moving this fast,” his father would always say, as he shook his head disapprovingly. “No time for romance when there’s work to be done.” Ryan’s father would make him practice and study, practice and study, leaving no room for her. That’s why they had to do it.
Ryan was her life; she had no one else but him. She spent her days alone, playing music, and dancing slow somber movements, never very graceful. They would sneak out on the warmer nights and huddle together under the blanket of stars above them. “I can’t live like this,” he would whisper gently, his words tickling her ears. She would softly rub his back, and always respond with the same answer, “We’ll figure everything out, eventually.”
That night he snuck out to meet her, carrying heavy news on his shoulders. His father wanted him to enlist, saying it will build character. He decided that they needed to get away. “Ryan, forget about your father!” she pleaded, as her eyes slowly welled up with tears. “We can just run off and get married; we’ll start again on our own!” Car headlights washed over their eyes, the sudden flash of light causing the pair to jump off the damp grass and look around. It was Ryan’s mother, who called for them through her rolled-down window.
“You better get home fast,” his mother told them. “Your father’s throwing a fit. He said if I don’t come out to find you, he’s calling the cops on you both.”
Ryan’s veins were too full of red-hot rage to listen to any more. “I’ve had enough!” he yelled as he jumped up, as if the immediacy would make a difference. Running down the street, he could only hear their faint cries behind him.
Pounding through the front door, he slammed up the front steps, eyes bulging and sweat dripping down his cheeks. His father looked up from his position on the couch, just in time to see his son lunging forward with the glass vase from the outside hall table in his hand. Blood spewed everywhere as he connected the vase with his father’s forehead, shards of glass remaining in the split skin. His father’s cry screeched out, a noise so shrill it sounded almost animal-like. Fists full of rage, Ryan jumped once again on his father, slamming his head down on the floor, the rhythmic thumping bringing a twisted smile to the corners of his cheeks. Ryan’s advantage was his element of surprise, in any other circumstance the father would have easily swiped his son away, as if he were a pest nagging at his juicy skin. But his father was dead, swimming in a pool of his own hot, sticky blood.
They never expected it to be this cold. She shuddered in the wind and he drew her closer, glancing at her out of the corner of his glazed eyes. They had no other choice but to run away, the evidence from the killing was obvious and pointed sharp fingers right in their direction. It seemed like the world was against them. They had each other now, but that was all they had ever had. “We’ll figure everything out eventually,” she whispered cautiously to him, not wanting to interrupt the stream of thoughts that was running through his head. He ignored her, his only thoughts being of days before life became an uphill battle, with no chance for return. She sighed and turned away as they walked hand-in-hand down the street, deeper into the mystery of the night.
