We Didn't Make It After All

Chapter Four

"Not long—maybe an hour or two."

"Think you can give Narnie a ride home? I'm sure she would much rather stay here."

"Bella!"

Ezra laughed. "What does Narnie want?"

"I," I began. With a simple glance at him, at the way he scavenged my eyes for an answer, I relented. "I'll stay."

Bella and Micah left before we could protest. I don't remember much that came afterwards. All I can remember are my muddled thoughts and weak knees before Ezra Parker, because that was the soft madness life put you through at seventeen, when you were at risk of falling in love for the very first time.

"We don't have to talk about it, but is there a reason Anderson makes Bella completely shut down?" Ezra asked as we watched them walk away. He offered me a hand, which I took to pull myself off the ground.

"Not a clue."

"Is she always like this?'

"I really don't know."

"There's history there, Narns," he said certainly.

"History?"

"Yeah, history. She acts like she's experiencing this awful round of nostalgia over and over again. I remember feeling that way not too long ago. Because it's not just any history, you know? It's the permanent kind. The kind you remember when you're seventy and looking back on life and thinking, what if things hadn't ended the way they did? Would I still be wasting time working my rundown motel in this godforsaken town or would we have made it out? To Mont Blanc or the south of Auckland and not so damn cynical about love." He paused for a moment of silent reflection before meeting my eyes. "You get what I mean?"

"That's a lot to take away from one reaction."

"Maybe. I don't know. You ever have a history like that with anyone?"

I shook my head. No, I didn't...

"Good. You'd get me then. It's like a form of madness. Love is always more cruel the first time around."

I wondered how we had gotten here, to this melancholy discussion about love, and why Ezra had already lost his faith in it at eighteen. I circled my hair in a bun crowning my head, deflecting my eyes from his lips to the park in an attempt to lighten the sombering mood.

"At least there's a possibility for you," I said. "She's still alive, isn't she? And I'm sure certain days don't pass without you glued to her mind. I'm sure she has days when she's stalking your Instagram at three in the morning and tormenting herself over what could have been. But with Papa—" I sighed, abruptly stopping myself.

"What about your Papa, Narnie?"

"I'll see him in the afterlife, if it exists."

A sad smile graced his face. "I suppose you're right. We have our whole lives ahead of us, don't we?"

I wanted to carry on with the conversation—to tell him to let me in so that I could restore his faith in love. But I saw Anderson Flemming waving at us, so I let out a brief "Yeah," and motioned my head toward him. "Speak of the devil."

Ezra followed my eyes, focusing on Anderson. "Come with us?"

I did—and maybe that explained why I was sitting by the lake not much later, observing the boys as they began a game of soccer with the rest of Holden's footballers. I was mindlessly picking the grass, my chaotic thoughts vacillating between homework and university applications when Ezra beckoned the soccer ball in my direction. I caught it between my palms, looking up.