Holding Onto Forever

For good measure, I grab hold of the ‘oh shit’ handle and hold my breath. Peyton eases my prized possession out of my parents’ driveway and onto the darkened street.

“Which way do I go?”

“Where do you want to go?” I ask, sitting up straighter so I can be more attentive to her. “If you turn left, we can drive toward the school. Right and we go by your house.”

Peyton looks in both directions, and honestly, neither seems appealing. For the longest time, the twins refused to drive on the road in front of the school where their father died. Over the years it’s gotten easier, but most of us detour when they’re in the car to prevent any uneasiness for them. However, going by her house probably isn’t the best option either.

“Want me to drive us out of town?”

She nods and puts the car in park. We quickly switch seats and within seconds I have us speeding out of town. I drive us to Greenfield High, one of Beaumont’s rivals and strongest nearby competition.

“This is where you’re going to teach me to drive?” she asks, as we meet in front of my Jeep. The headlights give off a strong enough glow that I can see her face clearly. Her lips are pursed and kissable. There have been many nights, alone in my dorm room, where I have dreamed of kissing her. No one, not even Quinn, knows about my fantasies. No one ever will.

I never cared when she followed me around with her football or wanted to scrimmage with the rest of the guys. I always knew she was in the stands, watching and cheering me on, ready to tell me about my game. If she were like a sister, I would’ve been annoyed. I would’ve pushed her away, but I didn’t. I found excuses to keep her close.

“Sure, why not?” I look around the deserted parking lot, which are the best places to learn the basics. “You’ll be fine, Peyton. I promise.”

“Remember when you took your permit test? You aced it while Elle missed four. That was the last time I was home for your birthday because I was drafted a year later. Sure, we celebrated when we’d see each other, but it’s not the same. Don’t forget we have big plans for your twenty-first. You remember the plan right? We’re going to live the high life and use our names to get us everything we want. You just have to wake up, Peyton, or we can’t celebrate.”

“Noah?”

Elle’s voice is soft as she calls my name. I turn in the chair to find her resting against the doorjamb. She comes to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and cries softly into my shoulder. I hold her and find myself quickly following suit. My tears are hot and streaming fast down my cheeks.

“You have to tell her,” Elle mumbles, but I’m shaking my head.

“No. I can’t. I won’t.”

9

Peyton

My mom stands in the doorway watching Noah and Elle comfort each other. Her stance mimics the way Elle was standing earlier. She and my mother are clones of each other. We may be identical twins, Elle and I, but we’re nothing alike. From early on, I favored our father, while Elle took after our mother, or so we’ve been told. Elle was the cheerleader in high school. I preferred football, choosing to stand on the sidelines until I joined the school paper. She liked to dress up, making sure her clothes were perfect. I didn’t care as long as I was comfortable. The one thing that’s the same, well was until now, is our hair. Neither of us has cut it without the other doing the same, and we’ve never dyed it.

Elle and I changed when we went away to college. I started dressing more like her, while she took on the grunge rocker look. I had never seen my sister wear flannel before until she moved to Los Angeles. Now she owns combat boots, nylons with holes and wears black nail polish. Our dad calls it a phase.

“Noah… Elle… may I have a few moments with Peyton?”

My sister removes herself from Noah’s lap and goes to our mom. They hug each other and by the shaking of Elle’s shoulders, I’m assuming she’s crying. My attention is on Noah though. He clears his throat before standing. He hovers over me, his thumb brushing lightly along my forehead and finally, he leans down to kiss me. I wish I could feel him. Feel the warmth of his lips against my tepid skin. I try to move my arms, wiggle my fingers, open my eyes and even grunt, but no amount of straining produces the results I’m seeking. Noah seems to be the only one who hasn’t given up on me.

Is that a sign that I’m supposed to find my way out of here? Have I been lingering in this ‘in between’ because I’m waiting for something more meaningful to show me that I need to leave this realm? Everyone except for Noah is hell bent on saying goodbye to me. He’s the only one refusing to give up. Why is that? Since when do we not pray or have hope?