6
Looking back, Hunter showed his cards a
long time ago.
He used to correct my English.
I asked him, “Did you study English?”
He froze. “I don’t know. Did I?”
Even with no memory, he still had a knack for languages.
My mom said, “Hunter must be from the city.”
I said, “That’s great, I’m going to go to the city one day.”
My mom didn’t say anything. She didn’t want
to break my heart.
If he really was a city boy, we didn’t have a
shot.
Too much of a difference.
The day after I graduated, it poured.
Our old house leaked.
My bed was soaked, so I had to sleep on a
mat with Hunter.
We were close enough to feel each other
breathing.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“What if I don’t get in anywhere?”
“You will.”
“I heard the kids in the city are super smart,
the teachers are too. I work so hard, but I
don’t think I can keep up.”
“Where do you want to go?”
I thought about it. “New York City. I want to
see Times Square.”
Don’t laugh. Every country kid dreams of
seeing Times Square.
“Okay, we’ll go to New York City. We’ll take
your mom.”
“Hunt, what if I don’t get in…
“I’ll take you,” Hunter said. “I promise, I’ll bring you there.”
My heart skipped a beat.
I was eighteen years old, and finally understood what it felt like to fall in love.
I was so glad he was my “husband.”
I hugged him, pulling in his warmth.
Hunter stiffened for a second, then wrapped
his arms around me.
We held each other, not doing anything, but
meaning everything:
Looking back, that night, I was drunk on happiness.
I didn’t notice Hunter changing.
He wasn’t dumb anymore.
Every word he said was careful, hiding an edge.
His eyes had a sharp light in the darkness.
His light.
