Hand in Mine

When I think back fifty years ago, I remember sixteen-year-old Veronica awkwardly crushing on sixteen-year-old Toby – someone I had known since we were both kids, the perks of small-town living.

I don’t remember exactly when the whole ‘crush’ started but I remember one day just thinking of him brought a smile to my lips and the fluttering of butterflies in my stomach. I remember thinking that I was sick and had suddenly come down with some sort of food poisoning however, I realised it was something some would compare to poisoning when I thought about him, love.

I had never really thought about love and romance prior to that, of course I like any other teenage girl consumed just about every piece of romantic fiction pushed by the production companies. I just never thought that it would come to me in the form of Toby Miller, somewhat awkward, lanky, and closed off Toby Miller who aspired to be a humble carpenter.

He was always off in his own world and super quiet and trying to get a word out of him was harder than pulling teeth. He never sounded happy when he was required to speak, always the person groaning in class when told we would have to put together a presentation. I suppose after fifty years together, I learnt that he was simply just a man of few words; saying exactly what he thought or needed to be said never detouring and always concise. Different to me who always had to tell a story before getting to my point. 

Perhaps we were always dancing around our feeling for each other, until quite literally the night of the school dance.

All the girls had spent months finding the perfect dress for the night, fighting for salon appointments, months implementing strict skin care routines and diets. I partook in it like the others girls but not extremely, but it was in an ivory chiffon dress in the middle of the town hall that Toby told me he loved me, and I did the only thing I thought I should do; I ran.

Three weeks prior to the dance dates were unofficial finalised, girls organising who would be grouping together to hire limousines for the night and where to take photos. Toby asked me to go with him during an English class, I accepted as usually we were a default pair for events or activities that required partners. I assumed we gravitated towards each other naturally as we had been friends for years, it only felt natural. I remember telling my closest friend Marley about my date for the dance, only to be laughed at. She teased saying he chose me because he loved me, not because we were friends. I thought she was ridiculous, until half the girls in my year told me he had a crush on me. Of course, I didn’t believe them; we were just good friends. 

I had never really been interested in any of the guys before, it all felt vaguely incestuous with everyone growing up together and being each other’s exes. The thought that Toby liked me kept me up every night and being sleep deprived before a night as big as the dance was almost a criminal offence. It also ramped up the number of butterflies in my stomach, I couldn’t get it out of my head surely I would’ve noticed that he felt that way, right?

We were swaying to the melody of a song popular during my parent’s youth when he looked me in the eye and said, “I think I love you Veronica Hudson.”

The temperature increased, the room spun, and it felt like it was too crowded in that hall and I ran. I ran all the way home – which if you ask me isn’t the best to do in heels no matter the height. I sat behind the massive lemon tree in my backyard and cried, it wasn’t out of fear or anger, looking back on it now I realised it was out relief. Relief that he loved me too.

I avoided him for weeks after that night and he avoided me too, turning away quickly when we came near each other, eyes never meeting when we had to interact with each other. The air between us was awkward and tense and everyone noticed but was never commented on assuming that something went wrong on that night.

I suppose the thing that held me back was apprehension and disbelief, that someone I had known since forever had loved me in a romantic way. Perhaps the signs were always right in front of me, he never had taken an interest in any of the girls at school and other than Marley that I was the only girl he hung around with. I brushed that all aside as just being shy. Perhaps I was ignoring my feelings for him by pretending to be blissfully unaware that when he smiled at me, my cheeks would burn.

All the dancing around each other got difficult and at about three weeks and two days after the dance, I hoped on my bike and rode to his house. Abandoning my bike in his driveway I sprinted into his garage where he was standing in disbelief and threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. It was a bold and reckless move on my part and I definitely confused him with my out of character outburst. But I never regretted it that sudden rush of adrenaline and courage hitting me in the face. The kiss felt like they did in all the movies like fireworks had been set off and that everything felt like it had been put on pause.

It was nerve wracking; I remember thinking that he probably hated me and didn’t want anything to do with me. But he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in closer. I had never felt better.

There was no surprise the next day when we spent every possible moment wrapped up in each other. I heard the whispers of finally and that Michael C had won the bet that was going on about us.

Fast forward and we graduated high school, equipped with diplomas, and holding each other’s hands. Us against the world. Toby acquired an apprenticeship with a local builder, and I was the receptionist at the doctor’s office. We watched our friends move away for a variety of opportunities keeping in touch via phone calls and postcards. We were happy. The next time our group of friends got together was a couple of years later we were all turning twenty-one and Toby and I were getting married. He proposed up at the town lookout one night during a full moon and with the stars shining above us seeming brighter that night as if they were blessing us. The ceremony was small only family and close friends, we held the reception in the very hall I abandoned him in years prior.

The following summer we welcomed our son Ryan and since then we haven’t looked back. We were never perfect we argued, we cried, we ignored each other. That’s the thing about love it isn’t perfect, it’s about growing and understanding yourself and each other. I am so thankful for Toby Miller and that throughout his life I got to be his best friend, partner, Wife and Mother of his child. 

Although today is a for many considered a day of mourning, today I will be celebrating the last fifty years of my life and how they were changed, influenced, and most importantly spent with the man I love. Toby would be absolutely appalled by the amount of people here crying over him, such a cranky old coot he was.

Toby Miller, I love you and I’m so glad that fifty years ago you told me that you loved me at the school dance. I hope our story is as good as it was in this life in our next lives.