You and Me, Beath the Tree | Teen Ink

You and Me, Beath the Tree

January 28, 2009
By Leahrachel SILVER, Monmouth Junction, New Jersey
Leahrachel SILVER, Monmouth Junction, New Jersey
5 articles 2 photos 3 comments

'Do you believe in God?' I asked him, as he pushed the lost strands of hair away from his face.

'I only believe in what I know is true.' He stated

'Yeah, I don't know what to believe.' I admitted, but only to him and reluctantly to myself.
"There's no proof, so I don't feel comfortable believing in it.'
I extended my legs beneath the tired tree, whose shade draped over the two of us.
'What about ghosts?' I insisted.
'I've never seen one, so I can't say I do.'
I sighed.
'How about people in our dreams?'
"Like people you dream up?" He asked as his interest dwindled.
'No, like people who die and come back and visit in your dream.'
He stood up and leaned his body against the trunk of the tree and ignored my question I waited for him to say something, but all I heard was the chatter of delicate birds, the kind you never see, but know they're right above you. The humidity stuck to the inside of my throat, but not being able to breathe, was a lot easier than convincing myself the real reason.
'What are you trying to get at? He answered, while he turned his back.
'Nothing,' I objected.
But that was a lie.
I dug my heels deep into the ground and my stomach felt like it had been tied into a thousand knots.
'Come to think of it, I've dreamt of people who are dead.'
"Like who?' He folded his arms.
'Well, my cousin. Oh and my grandmother, a few times.' I added.
He took a deep breath. I could tell that he was frustrated.
'It's just a coincidence,' His tone was flat.
'Funny, I don't believe in coincidence.' I snapped
'I'm not laughing."
"That was rhetorical."
"No, I don't think you understand KJ-'
But I did understand. I understood it all, more than he would ever be able to fathom.
"You never call me that. Not since we were thirteen"
"I know." He whispered.
I lowered my head and sheltered my tears with the palms of my hands.
"I finally put it together."
His voice shook like a faint earth quake.
I looked at his face. It seemed to look different than yesterday, as if all his teenage years were buried beneath this grown image, but then again, everyone got older, but whether he knew it or not, getting older was something I was afraid of.

"That I moved here," I Interrupted, completing the sentence I knew he would say, but was to afraid to go through with.

"That they have some special hospital for kids like me, because I'm sick? Is that what you were thinking?
I felt the tension between us light up like the fireflies in that summers night.
" Stop it" He demanded.
"Stop what? It's too late to stop anything in this world. I'm not going to get better, I will never be better!

"I know just stop it!" His voice grew exhausted.
I held my breath and exhaled.

"I'm dying." I said in disbelief that I had just let the sour truth pour from my mouth, like a pitcher of lemonade.' And you want to know the worse part? It's rhetorical by the way," I laughed almost amused.
"You don't-"

"I can't even say it, I have to spell it out, l-e-u-k-e-m-i-a. It just kills me!" Literally!" I laughed!

'Will you just stop!' He pleaded. 'You think there's a day that goes by that I don't think about you. You are in my head, constantly.'

His hand pressed against the edge of shoulder. His touch was almost warm if it hadn't been for the unexplainable chills he always gave me.

'You know, when I moved here.' I lifted myself off the ground as I let his hand slip away from me. 'I didn't have to be the sick girl. In my own delusional world, being with you meant I wasn't sick. I told myself repeatedly that it was impossible to for someone to be dying if they were happy, but things change and it's getting harder and harder for me to believe in anything.'
I looked at his face, but it had vanished into the dusk.. He walked under the faint light that filled the tiny spaces at the top of the tree. I had felt his hand again, but this time he took mine and placed it on his chest.

'You feel that?'
I nodded my head .

'I believe, that as long as your heart is still beating, you can be whatever you want. So when you're with me, there isn't such a word as l-e-u-k-e-m-i-a. Lik I said, I only believe in what is true.

The author's comments:
the beginning of my short story is actually derived from a couple text messages between my friend and I, which basically got me started in writing this piece.

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