Page 45

Diminishing Sand

Sixteen Years Old, Virginia

I pictured my last summer with Beck as grains of sand falling through funneled glass.

In late June, my parents and I went to Rehoboth Beach with the Byrnes, where we rented a house on the shore. Beck and I spent our days playing in the waves with his sisters, and our nights walking the beach. We ate peanut butter and honey sandwiches under the midday sun, freshly caught crab legs for dinner, and locally churned ice cream for dessert. We returned to Rosebell bronzed and happy.

One day in early July, we got up super early and drove to Williamsburg. We were at the front of the line when Busch Gardens opened. We rode our favorite roller coasters, petted the Clydesdales, and treated ourselves to bratwurst and funnel cake. We stayed until the park closed. In the 4Runner on the way home, I clung to Beck’s hand and started to worry about diminishing time.

As summer flew by, we worked to finish checking items from our Things to Do in DC—Before Beck Leaves for CVU list. We strolled down Embassy Row, ate Ted’s Tarts—a freshly baked version of a Pop Tart—at Ted’s Bulletin, and hiked Theodore Roosevelt Island. We took Norah and Mae to parks all over town. We played board games with our parents. We hit up parties with Raj, Stephen, Wyatt, and Macy. We went to fancy dinners and marathoned movies in our pajamas.

And then, on a humid Saturday in August, we ran out of time.

I drove to the Byrnes’ to say goodbye. Connor’s truck was backed into the driveway and loaded with cardboard boxes, a couple of suitcases, and several plastic totes. I knew what was in each, because I’d spent the last week helping Beck pack. It was all there: his clothing, his sneakers, his tension bands, and a pull-up bar that hooks over a doorway. There were fresh bath towels and new bedding selected by Bernie because her son didn’t give a shit about what his comforter looked like. He’d picked a dozen novels to bring along, favorites I doubted he’d find time to reread. There were notebooks, pens, a graphing calculator. A new laptop. Framed photos of his family, of him and me. It was all folded, wrapped, and packed, a whole life tucked into the bed of a truck.

I had to avert my eyes. The sight of Beck’s possessions ready to travel more than a hundred miles southwest, where they’d be unloaded into a dorm room, where they’d stay— with Beck —made me want to cry my face off.

Instead I went into the house. I could hear Connor, Bernie, and the twins in the kitchen, going on about road trip snacks. All five of the Byrnes were making the drive to Charlottesville, Beck and his dad in the truck, and Bernie and the girls in her Subaru. The 4Runner would stay behind because, according to Beck, parking on campus was a bitch. I’d been invited on the trip, and while I wanted to go, Beck’s family was struggling with his move as much as I was. I didn’t feel right taking from their goodbye. Also, I was pretty sure that if I set foot in Beck’s dorm, I’d have to be dragged out kicking and screaming.

As Norah bellowed about raisins and Mae fought for Goldfish Crackers and their parents did a half-hearted job of mediating, I made my way down to the basement.

Beck was sitting on his bed, phone in hand.

“I was just about to text you,” he said, grinning up at me. “We’re about to head out.”

I burst into tears.

He sprang up and pulled me into his arms. “Shit, Amelia. I don’t want you to be sad.”

I let him hold me until I’d cried myself hoarse. Then I stepped back, using the strap of my tank to swipe mascara trails from beneath my eyes. I pulled in a breath and got myself together because I would not send him to Charlottesville thinking he’d left me in shambles.

“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m fine. I’m perfect .”

“Liar.”

“I am, Beck. Really. I’m so excited that you’re off to live your dream.”

“ Our dream.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “And in case I haven’t made this clear, I’m gonna miss you every single second I’m away.”

“Beck!” Connor called from upstairs. “Time to hit the road!”

Outside, Bernie blotted her eyes as she buckled the twins into their booster seats. Connor, reliably unsentimental, was tossing his keys in the air.

When she’d finished, Bernie left Norah and Mae in the idling SUV, then came over to sling an arm around me, the other around Beck. She was still crying.

“Jesus, Mom,” Beck said. “You’re gonna see me in a couple hours.”

“You’ll understand one day, when you’re watching your babies spread their wings.”

Beck’s gaze connected with mine. I was imagining it too: him and me in a few decades, standing in a driveway much like the Byrnes’, sending a fledgling of our own out of the nest. I bit my lip, trying hard to tough out what I was sure would be the very worst day of my year.

Beck said, “Let’s not drag Lia through this any longer.”

His mom nodded, then gave me the tightest hug. “We’ll get through it, girlie.”

“I know. Drive safe.”

She squeezed my shoulder before climbing into the Subaru. Connor was already in the truck, engine rumbling. Beck pulled me into his arms; I hugged him like I might not get another chance, hoping with everything in me that our time apart would fly by.

When we separated, he sniffed and said, “Shit just got real.”

“Beckett,” I said. “Don’t go getting soft on me.”

“I’d never. I’ll see you soon?”

“Really soon.”

Then he was in the truck with his dad, rolling down the driveway and out of my world.