Chapter One: Love Before Life

The final sign of affection Alex demonstrated to me before he departed this world forever was a wink as he clambered into his truck.  Who would have thought that our bond could be so easily torn apart by a docile deer in the wrong place at the wrong time?

So, that was it.  Our love should have been written down, and, in fifty or so years, would be an instant, epic, love story like Titanic or Romeo and Juliet.  I loved him with a passion some would say unhealthy for someone my age—too bad that it didn't last forever, like he promised me all those times.

But here, I am getting ahead of myself.  Let me take you back, back to before our beginning.  You may want to take a seat, if you aren't already, because it may take some time to tell you everything.

I had, by no means, thought I was anything exceptional.  Actually, I thought I was pretty ordinary—maybe so ordinary that there was a freakishly non-ordinary streak in me.  Am I making sense?  I enjoyed dawn and dusk more than any other natural occurrence and often spent my time on a hill that overlooked a pasture near my home.  There, I watched countless sunsets and sunrises, most of the time, after I hit puberty, fantasizing of my prince charming to come and sweep me off my feet.  For me, that day came in my freshman year of high school, seventeen days after my fifteenth birthday—October 18, 2012.

I had known this boy most of my life.  I met him in the second grade after I was pushed down on the playground and scraped my tiny knee.  His name was Alexander Matthew Johnston.  He was always so charming and helpful, unlike the other boy who pushed me down.  He assisted me up off the warm asphalt and we were friends ever since.

As we matured, many of my friends taunted me about him and said that we were probably dating surreptitiously.  At the time, I asked them the question, 'Why can't a guy and a girl just be friends?'  One of them, most likely one I don't even know anymore, responded, 'Just because it isn't possible.'  Now I realize that what she said was true.

As our relationship progressed everything excluding us, ourselves, seemed archetypal.  My mother went through the 'my baby is growing up' fit, my father gave Alex the 'home by ten' talk, and even my friends made lecherous jokes about us.  The thing is, we weren't anything you would anticipate from two freshmen.  I felt whole and complete with him, like we were married or something.  I felt tingles of smugness and desire when I saw him.  I was swollen with pride that such a superb gentleman was all mine.  He was everything a girl could want.  He was charming, had a pleasant sense of humor, and was entirely contented with taking things gradually and even waiting until we were married to go all the way.  My father was very… content?  I mean, what more could an overprotective father ask for?

And so, there we were, on our one-year anniversary.  (Yeah, can you believe it?  The world didn't end.)  He was so charismatic; got us dinner reservations, in a way, at one of the most fancy places in town.  So I say, in 'town.'  Sure, there were more expensive venues, in larger cities and whatnot, but he had to pick his father up from a friend's house at nine, so wherever we went, it couldn't be too far from our minuscule settlement.  That was fine by me.


I remember I wore a blue dress that fell just below my knees, and that I chortled unattractively as his jaw fell open when I descended the perfectly polished oak stairs.  I also recall how the night was utterly perfect.  Our waitress at Lucy's was exceptionally polite and she took us to a table, in the back, which appeared as if it were prepared just for us.  It was like living a Disney fairytale.  At the conclusion of the date, he dropped me off, like a proper gentleman.  As he hopped into his truck, he gave me a wink, while I stood in my doorway and watched him drive off.  Little did I know that a simple wink would be my last memory of him alive.