The winter Of Asa’s return

It was raining. A lot. 

“It’s okay, right?” My mother was pacing back and forth, traveling the short space between the wall and the check out desk. “I mean we can just put up tents, right? It's no big deal, we have like, an hour.” My mom wasn’t good with surprises. She likes to have every hour of everyday mapped out. But she had not planned for the Chicago sky to open up and spill out a full inch of rain, on the exact day that our annual Christmas bake off festival was planned.

“Yes mom, that's exactly what we’ll do.  Good Idea. I’ll get Martian and we’ll go pick up some tents from Walmart and set them up in the square.” I smile reassuringly at her, even though inside I'm just as panicked as she is.

Hearing my words my mothers face instantly brightens. “O Milly thank you, you're the best,” she says and kisses my cheek.

So I leave the shop in a half jog, the jingle of sleigh bells sounding as I open and close the doors. Martin was my mom’s boyfriend who ran the hardware store, around the corner from us. I pulled up my hood and sped up as I stepped into the rain, instantly getting drenched. I was going so fast that when I turned the corner and smack right into a moving body, the collision was so hard that I began falling straight to the ground. Long arms dive to catch me, and whoever has just crashed into me begins apologising. 

“Sorry! I am so sorry, man I-” but his words are cut off when I look up and he sees my face.

“Asa?” I whisper.

Asa Downing has not set foot in the town of Chicago for almost 2 years. Litiarly the second he was handed a diploma he ran as fast as he cold to the nearest airport. Leaving not only his parents, siblings and job behind, but also me. I was Asa’s best friend, and he was mind, had been since 5th grade. We spent every moment possible together, and telling each other everything. Or so I thought, until he left without ever even sending a goodbye text. 

So you can see why, when I seen his face my first thought was that I was dreaming.

“M-Mily?” he stammers. I’d imagined this moment so many times, and in my fantasies I’d alway had the perfect thing to say. But in this moment I had no words. All I could do was stare at his beautiful face, with his mismatched eyes and chocolate skin. And then I punched him. 

“Ow! What was that for?” He asks, grabbing his face and stepping back. I was so angry I saw red.

“What do you think it was for?” How about two years without calling, and just leaving me here with my dying dad? How about kissing me the day before you left? How about-” My words are cut off with a sob, and I rush past him before he could see the tears streaming down my face. He doesn't follow. 

Martin is cheerful as always, and quickly agrees to help me with the tarps. It takes us a full 45 minutes to set them up with the help of out janitor and a few of Martin’s friends. 

After that we return to the bakery to warm up.

“Asa swang by we’ll you where setting up the tents,” my mom tells me.

“What did you say,” I ask.

“I told him he has no business ever stepping foot in my bakery ever again!” My mother snorts, one hand holding a large plate of cookies while the other pushes the door open. I follow her outside and we hop in the delivery van.

We drive to the square in silence. Her thinking about the festival, me thinking about Asa.

The thing was, as much as I hated him, Asa had been my best friend, and I missed him! And the kiss he’d given me, that night before he left, it had been world stopping.

When we arrived at the square, we were met with the familiar hectic mess of festival set up. With only 30 minutes till we open to public, everyone was either chilling in the they’re tent ready to go, or scrambling with last minute difficulties. 

We had set up so that each contestant had their own mini tent, and each had a sweet smell drifting out. My family was the one who organized the event, but we were still allowed to compete. 

My mother assigned me the chore of going from tent to tent to make sure everyone was present, and things were running smoothly.

I started  with the first tent in the row, and mound Mr and Mrs Cook hard at work. They entered every year. 

“Milly darling, great to see you!” Cheered Mr. Cook. He had a red santa hat placed on his bald head and a smile plastered through the wrinkles of his face.

“Good to see you too!” I say, “Are things running smoothly?”

“Going just fine!” He says, and I wander off to the next tent, where my aunt Carol is set up. She said the same, so I moved on to the next. 

Witch was where I found Asa. My heart hiccuped at the sight of him.

Just as I was about to turn back around and leave he started spotted me.

He stopped abruptly, in the middle of hanging a banner, and stared at me or a second. I knew I couldn’t be a pretty sight, my hair was frizzy and curly from the rain, and my nose resembled Rudolph himself.

“You running your own stand?” I asked, resentment clear in my voice.

 But he just kept staring at me, and suddenly I felt very insecure. 

Did I have toilet paper on my boot or something?

“Milly I need to talk to you” Asa says, finally snapping out of it. He began moving toward me, but I was not about to let this bama think he could just leave me, and I’d be right here waiting for him to come back to me. When he moved closer I could see the bruising forming on his right eye. Satisfying.

“I asked you a question.” I say angrily. 

Just then, when Asa was almost to me, somebody came bursting in the doors behind me. Annalinn. Of course he was with Annalinn. The only person in this town I resented more than him. She was always competing with me, her family owned the bakery that at one point threatened to put our family out of business, and she’d always been trying to snatch Asa from me.

“What’s going on?” She asks in her snotty voice. But instead of answering I glare at Asa and storm out of the tent.

He calls out after me, but I keep on going. 

“Milly stop I can explain!”

“I don't need you to explain Asa. Because I don't care!” I lie and step into the next tent. He follows me. 

“I did it for you!” He says, and his voice sounds...sad. 

I stop, but don't turn around. 

“Please just come sit with me and I’ll tell you.” He begs. I no longer feel the hot rush of fury.  He did it for me? What could that possibly mean? Because of him I had to mourn my best friend and my dad in the same month! 

I sit, though, and Asa hands me one of the mugs. He’s brought me to a park bench , and the tree above us shelters us from the rain. 

Asa is sitting next to me, and I still and I feel the need to reach out and touch him, to see if this is real.

“Milly I’ve been in love with you since 8th grade,” he starts, and his words chip away at the resentment.

“How come you never told me?” I ask in a whisper.

Because I couldn't. I was hiding something else from you,” He says.

Afraid of what he might say I stand up. “I’m sorry Asa, I can't do this.” My throat is tight, like I might cry.

I start to run toward the parking lot, but when I get there I realize my mom has the keys.

“My cars right here,” Asa’s voice comes from behind me. “Maybe we can try this again.” 

Inside his chevy, with the heaters cranked, we try again.

What was it you were hiding from me?” I ask, when he doesn't say anything. 

“My-Me and-” He’s clearly unable to find the words. “My dad and I-” And I see in his eyes that he’s really scared to say this.

“What is it Asa?” I ask, placing my hand on his. He stares at it, unsure. Finally though without speaking he tells me. 

Taking his hand from mine he slowly pulls off the black raincoat, and then the t-shirt he has on under it. 

Slowly he turns around, and t first all I notice is the nice tan skin, and then the muscles that run underneath it. But then I see them, what he’s showing me.

All of the air is sucked out of me and I let out a harsh sob.

Again and again, as if drawn on by red paint, are long scars. They trvle the full length from left to right of his perfect body, thin lines that press into his skin. 

I’m crying now, and I reach my hand out so it's touching him. S its touching one of his scars, and trace the line with my fingertips, feeling his body reach to my touch. 

“Asa! What happened?” BUT I already know there's only one thing that could have caused these scars. A wip.

ASA-

Milly’s fingers move across my back, and it's a dream, the way her soft skin feels on mine. 

When I turn to her I see that tears are rushing down her face, much like the rain outside. She’s so beautiful. Even when she’s broken.

“My dad abused me and my brother for 14 years. It's why I moved to my aunts in 9th grade. I had to call the police after finding Rider so betten he was barely breathing. We were taken from my parents and life got better. I was happy at home, Rider was doing good, and I had you. And then, towards the end of 10th grade I started having episodes. At first just once a month then by the time we hit 12th grade they were almost weekly. It was PTSD, my aunt had me visiting all kinds of shriks.

“How could you have kept this from me?” She asked, and I could tell it hurt her.

I don't know. I never had any problems when I was with you, and I think it's because you make me feel safe, and happy. And I-” My voice got caught in my through. “I stabbed Ridder. It wasn’t bad, just in the shoulder but it was clear I needed help. So I began planning my trip. I went to Seattle where I was put in a hospital and I’m a lot better now, but It will never go away.” Telling her the story lifted something off my chest. 

“But what about the kiss?” she asked bluntly.

“Well, I guess that just kind of happened-” But she cut me off.

“I don't mean why did you do it. I mean why did you stop?” the words filled me with a warm syrup, and suddenly she was kissing me. My body exploded, and my heart filled with my love for her.

I’d finally told her my story, and she was still here.

Later we walked to the square, and watched as they announced the winner as Milly’s aunt, but they were wrong. 

Holding her in my arms, with her sent filling my nose, I knew I was the winner this year.