Memories

I love you,” Jenny whispered into his ear. It was not the first time Ryan had heard her say it, but the phrase still sent fireworks throughout his body.

       “I love you too,” he told her back as he turned his face to kiss the girl slowly.

       The couple had been out all night, walking the woods after a party that had taken place for the last day of school. High school seniors giving one last “hurrah” before going their separate ways to college or the workforce. Ryan and Jenny had left to watch the sunrise over the lake as the celebrations had started to die down.

       “You really promise we will be able to handle the distance?” Ryan asked his girlfriend. Her hair was matted down by the humidity and her eyes carried dark circles around them in fatigue, but she was still the most beautiful sight Ryan had ever seen in his eighteen years of age.

       “We will conquer any distance no matter what,” Jenny told him with another slow kiss as they rolled around on the dewy grass. “I am really going to miss these sunrises over the lake while away,” she said when they had looked up again.

       “I’m sure Boston will have pretty sunrises. Shoot, you may be able to get one a lot better than this on the beaches out there,” Ryan tried to sound hopeful. While he was staying back in their small town to help his father out at the car shop (money was too tight for college even after the scholarships), Jenny was headed to Boston College to pursue a degree in English. Ryan was devastated about it, but he couldn’t keep the girl from going after her dreams.

       “You should have brought your guitar out,” Jenny said. Ryan figured himself a horrible guitar player and singer, but Jenny was always wanting to hear more of her boyfriends love songs.

       Ryan only nodded, watching the lake while trying not to envision life without his girlfriend of three years in this tiny town. He felt a small hand reach over and run through his hair that had fallen out of place during the night of underage drinking and dancing.

       “Hey, you’re going to be a big star one day with that guitar and I’ll be your biggest fan.”

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       Ryan came and sat down in the grass. It had been years since he had last visited this little area. A pain in his heart stung upon remembering the good times. He had just come off of a nine-month tour with his band across the country.

       Two years ago, a record label worker had stopped in a dive bar to ask for directions when he had heard a young musician playing guitar and singing to a crowd of about twelve drunks. The man waited around for the artist to finish his set so he could buy the kid a beer and sign him to the record label. The album had come out almost a year later, recorded in Nashville with a backing band to accompany. Ryan Woodall and the Riverboat Boys had embarked to win the hearts of fans immediately after to support their album, Losing the Dream.

       Ryan laid back on the cool grass as a wind passed over, knocking his hair that was a bit too long into his eyes. How on earth did a record about small-town baseball games and lost loves do so well? A voice asked in his ear. He shook his head and looked out across the water.

       The sun was low in the sky to his back. Low enough to create a comfortable mass of shadows to sit under from the trees with their leaves dying in the autumn air. The lake reflected beautiful oranges and reds from the leaves on its surface.

       Ryan reached into his back pocket and pulled out the reason why he had come back to his hometown.

       Jenny McIntire and Stephen Lewis invite you to their wedding. Below it was a list of where the wedding was and when it would happen. Tomorrow morning at the church Jenny was baptized in. Ryan didn’t need directions for where Jenny would be married, it was the only place she would ever talk about getting married in her whole life. Ryan lit a cigarette then burned the invitation with his lighter. The back displayed a photo of Jenny in an elegant black dress in the arms of some idiot that Ryan supposed must have been Stephen. He thought back to what had happened since Jenny left.  

       The letters and phone calls had been constant for the first month. The two of them pouring their hearts out about how much they missed each other and how they couldn’t wait to see another again, but as time went on, the conversations grew more and more sparse. That Christmas, Jenny had visited the town to see her family and meet up with Ryan.

       “I can’t do this anymore, Ryan,” She had told him at the diner over a meal of pancakes and coffee, “You don’t deserve this, we don’t deserve this. I have met someone else. A nice boy from New York, I’m breaking up with you.” She had left without even letting Ryan get a word in.

       After the breakup, Ryan’s dad- too old and worn out to keep working on cars- sold the car shop, leaving Ryan unemployed. He had been working as a bartender and playing at local venues until taking the chance to become famous.

       He reached into another pocket and produced a silver flask. He took a swig before lighting another cigarette, then took another sip. The whiskey flowed down his throat smoothy before landing in a satisfyingly warm pool in his stomach. He opened his eyes when the memories had faded a bit.

       The sun was now completely gone from the sky. In its place, the moon stood over reflecting off the tiny ripples of the lake. “Well, old boy,” Ryan told himself, “At least you ain’t dead yet.”