“This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.” -Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

We run around town for weeks under the hot summer sun, sand and salt cover our foreheads and it’s found its way into our wavy hair. I laugh because I don’t remember a time I was ever happier than this moment. We were up until 2am talking on the phone last night, I can’t remember what our conversations were, but I know that we couldn’t bring ourselves to hang-up, so we fell asleep still on the phone. You must’ve hung up because when I do wake up, my phone is locked. I stretch out my warm tanned legs and climb down from my loft-style bed. I eat breakfast and throw on my bikini, it’s my daily routine. There is something about summer, which brings such a calm to my beachfront apartment. The seagulls are squawking outside. It’s just me in the apartment; both of my parents are at work.

I wish that I could remember exactly how we fell in love. My memories of that summer are scattered, between the vodka and the late nights staying up and sneaking onto the beach. You were my best friend for a long time, months. We acted like we had known each other for years before, having endless things in common, you didn’t get along with your Mom, I never understood my Dad. Every day I woke up and put on that bathing suit, something within me just couldn’t help but reach for the phone, I needed to see you right away, always. We were good for each other, we helped center each other’s ego’s, we used each other as outlets from our friends. When we were together, it was just we. Nothing outside of our world existed. We helped each other to fill in our missing pieces, which we had a lot of. We were fragmented, imperfect. We were both stubborn and liked to pretend we had it all figured out. Heaven forbid we ever admit to any of our faults.

There are memories I always struggle to piece back together. Sometimes I think I lie to myself about what happened because I have such a bias today. I think back to one specific day, the day I believe I fell in love with you. It would be months before I admitted it to you face-to-face, but in that moment I just knew. We were at the beach; you always had work so we didn’t have a ton of time to see each other. I was there for a friend of a friend’s birthday barbeque, and I told you to meet me at Avenue H. I had come out of the water and was heading for my towel; tip toeing over the scalding hot July sand. I see you wading through the banks of sand, wearing sandals. I stare at you a little longer than usual when we lock eyes. You come up and hug me, even though I’m dripping wet from the ocean. You’re older, so I’m surprised you are willing to come to this Birthday with me. You are friendly as ever, hugging the other partygoers and wishing the birthday girl, a happy birthday. We lay on towels next to each other for a while until you want to go into the water.

We run into the water and dive under the first few waves, making our way out to the deep ocean. You grab my waist and goose bumps cover my entire body, that’s what your touch used to do. We kiss, far out in the sea away from everyone. It’s just us, nothing else exists.

Paddling back to shore you say you have to go to work. You work at the old water park by the ocean one town over. I’m disappointed; I want to spend every second I possibly can with you. That’s when it happens. You go to leave and grab me, planting a kiss on me in front of the entire party. That’s when I know, as a sixteen-year-old girl. I giggle and say, “oh so now we’re kissing in public” you respond strongly, “of course”, or something along those lines, with a sense of confidence. I watch you walk away, just a few seconds longer than I usually do. That night I stay up late again on the phone, falling in and out of sleep telling you about my day. Before I fall asleep, my heart flutters and I get all goofy, rolling onto my side. And that’s when I knew.