From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul IV

First Love, First Loss

“What happened, where did we go wrong?” The words began to flow freely, as did the tears that were beginning to form and slowly slide down my already tear-stained cheeks. His soft-spoken “I don’t know” did nothing to ease the ache I was feeling, and had been feeling, for several weeks. Standing at the foot of his bed, looking around his room, a room I had spent as much time in as my own, the memories surrounded me. Here I was, fifteen, in love and losing the person who had meant so much to me for two years. Raising my head, I looked into those familiar blue eyes and saw that they were also filling with tears. We didn’t have to speak; we both knew without talking that this was it.

He scooted down and pulled me into his arms, up against his chest. Standing, he stood a head taller than me; sitting, we were eye to eye. With my face buried in the place where his shoulder and neck meet, I cried. I cried for everything we had shared, both good and bad. I cried for the past and for my future without him.

Tyler had started off as a friend, but his charismatic attitude soon made him my best friend. I could tell him anything, and I did. He always had something to say to make me laugh; only he had the ability to bring out the sun on my grayest days. We soon evolved into more; I had never experienced anything like it before. We had our share of bad times—some more serious than others—and more ridiculous arguments than I could count. However, neither of us could stay mad at the other for long, and one of us would always give in.

But this time was different. We were over. This wasn’t a fight that would end with an “I’m sorry.” It was another sign that what we once had was over. We were together now because neither one of us could handle the idea of breaking up, but hanging on was becoming more painful than ending it.

We took a long walk that afternoon; the earlier rain had left the air damp but cool. The sun had come out, and I could hear the birds in the woods behind us. Walking hand in hand, we talked for about an hour, pausing every now and then for a quiet “I’ll miss you” and “I’ll miss you, too.” We promised to remain friends and swore that we would still talk. Maybe one day, we said, after things got a little bit easier, we would go do something together. Neither one of us wanted to think of our lives without the other one in it.

As we neared my house and the walk ended, I asked for one more hug. His strong, tanned arms enclosed me, and then he lowered his lips for one last kiss. The hardest thing that afternoon was forcing myself to let go, pull away and walk home.

Moving on was hard; at times it seemed unbearable. Time has now healed the pain, and when I think of him I smile instead of cry. He will always have a special place in my heart.

Melody Mallory

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