Control

6.

I remember when it was you and me against the world. We'd been friends since forever, and it was going to stay that way: Just us, a quiet redhead and a messy blonde, a reader and a runner, a dancer and a player. Nothing would tear us apart.

11.

Middle school, and all the girls were talking about all the boys (or the cute ones, anyway.) I played on my cello and you danced to the music with the sky in your eyes and a thimble on your smile.

14.

High school was a blur of firsts for us: Our first test-kiss, our first boy-kisses, my first hangover, your first high. My mom left, and your dad died, but it was still us against the world, and always would be.

18.

We moved on to college, and I changed my mind as easily as I could change my nail color, but you'd found a boy, and you said you were going to marry him.


21.

We grew up [or so we liked to say] but we never grew apart, not us. I could control myself now, and you'd almost completely stopped needing to buy your own happiness off the streets.

22.

I knew what your boy was doing, and I was determined to stop it. At least, that's what I said to myself that night; but you spent my birthday fighting with him and slamming all the doors you could find, so I ripped a page off your book and let him be my happiness.

23.

We agreed you didn't have to know about it, and I made him promise to stop. We stopped, too. I stopped needing you to kiss my forehead when my bottles got the best of me, and you stopped telling me when I had to hold you down.

24.

You found out. You found out about a dozen other girls, but I was theloaf who got away. You knew I wouldn't do that; this was the boy you said you'd marry. I held you that night, and we kissed [properly, now] for the first time in a while, and you let me be your happiness again.

25.

You decided I was better than he could ever be, and I agreed. But all that time we weren't us was taking its toll, and I played only on our feelings now, but you still danced with the sky in your eyes even though you'd lost your thimble somewhere along the way.

26.

I don't know how you found out, but you did. And instead of trying to convince you it wasn't true, I let you make up your own mind. I went over and painted his cheek pink with my angry palm, but he had angel-eyes and a silver tongue, and it was over between us anyway, sweetie, so we don't need to be sorry.

--

You drove over that night, while we were breathing too hard to regret you [but you were never a mistake, darling, remember that.]
But something went wrong; maybe your sky-eyes were too clouded with tear-puddles, but I never got to see them again. They were closed in the coffin, and nobody understood when I screamed at you to let me see the skies one last time.

--

It was you and me against the world, darling. But you lied when you said it would stay that way.