tear with the memories of our childhood crowding my mind. The picturesque town is flying past us now and I know the orchard is coming up. I peek over at Jared. His face is serious and he is staring straight ahead, his hands gripped tightly around the handlebars. I wonder if he is also thinking about past memories. He must feel my eyes on him because his face suddenly twists to meet mine. One fleeting look is exchanged between us before his eyes once again shift forward. Turning into the dirt parking lot of the country store, he pulls up and idles for a second before kicking down the kickstand and swinging off. He turns to help me off, as well. Our eyes meet yet again as I grab his hand, but they give nothing away. They are hard and guarded. I follow him inside, walking slowly behind. My mind automatically takes me over to the table with the snow globes again. My fingers graze the top of the glass on the Tinkerbell figurine before I hear Jared’s voice.
“I got the donuts.” He comes up beside me with a small container.
“Okay.” I bounce a little on the balls of my feet, trying to maintain eye contact, but he just turns and heads out the door again. What the hell?
I follow behind him, struggling to keep up once again as he mazes his way through the trees all around us. I lose him twice before I come to the opening and the view takes my breath away. The sun is high in the sky this time; no chance of falling asleep on him. There’s a family having a picnic on the lonely table atop the hill, so instead Jared comes to sit on the edge of the hill and place the donuts down next to him. Taking the hint, I sit beside him and fold my legs in front of me.
“Dig in,” he mutters, opening the top on the donut box and leaning back on his hands.
I study him for a second before I reach in for a donut. I take a bite and swallow hard, trying to fill the silence between us. Maybe it’s the sugar rush, but I find myself unable to stop the words coming out of my mouth.
“Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?”
“I don’t hate you.” He rolls his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at me ! “I just hate what you are becoming.”
“What am I becoming, exactly?” I scoff.
“Or lack there of…”
I stare at him, open-mouthed for a few seconds. “So I’m not becoming?”
“No, I don’t believe so.” He looks away from me.
“Awesome, good to know,” I whisper sarcastically, taking another bite of donut.
“I mean, you have potential, but you’re just a big mess right now.”
“I’m a mess,” I repeat as I let his words sink in.
He sits up straight, putting his arms over his knees. His eyes blink twice before he twists his head to look at me.
“April, you don’t even know who you are anymore. The girl I used to know was fearless and determined. This person here?” He points to all of me. “She doesn’t even know who she is anymore.”
“I know who I am!” I defend.
“Oh, really? What’s your favorite movie?”
I pause, thinking for a second.
“What’s your favorite book? What do you want to do when you grow up? What’s your dream job? What’s your favorite drink? Food? Color? Who are you, April? Or were you just Hunter’s girlfriend?”
His questions hit me like punches, one right after the other until the last… that one hurts worst of all. Because it’s true.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs at my lack of response.
“Well, how is one supposed to know all these things at twenty-one?”
“You live a little April, you go out there and find out!” He shrugs his shoulders, his brown eyes gleaming at me.
“You’re telling me you know all about yourself?”
“No, but I know my likes and my dislikes. I know where I’m going and where I’ve been.” He turns away from me now to watch a hayride pass us through the meadow below. I take another donut; this is a half- dozen kind of conversation. Things are silent as I continue to eat all six donuts. He never reaches for
“I got the donuts.” He comes up beside me with a small container.
“Okay.” I bounce a little on the balls of my feet, trying to maintain eye contact, but he just turns and heads out the door again. What the hell?
I follow behind him, struggling to keep up once again as he mazes his way through the trees all around us. I lose him twice before I come to the opening and the view takes my breath away. The sun is high in the sky this time; no chance of falling asleep on him. There’s a family having a picnic on the lonely table atop the hill, so instead Jared comes to sit on the edge of the hill and place the donuts down next to him. Taking the hint, I sit beside him and fold my legs in front of me.
“Dig in,” he mutters, opening the top on the donut box and leaning back on his hands.
I study him for a second before I reach in for a donut. I take a bite and swallow hard, trying to fill the silence between us. Maybe it’s the sugar rush, but I find myself unable to stop the words coming out of my mouth.
“Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?”
“I don’t hate you.” He rolls his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes at me ! “I just hate what you are becoming.”
“What am I becoming, exactly?” I scoff.
“Or lack there of…”
I stare at him, open-mouthed for a few seconds. “So I’m not becoming?”
“No, I don’t believe so.” He looks away from me.
“Awesome, good to know,” I whisper sarcastically, taking another bite of donut.
“I mean, you have potential, but you’re just a big mess right now.”
“I’m a mess,” I repeat as I let his words sink in.
He sits up straight, putting his arms over his knees. His eyes blink twice before he twists his head to look at me.
“April, you don’t even know who you are anymore. The girl I used to know was fearless and determined. This person here?” He points to all of me. “She doesn’t even know who she is anymore.”
“I know who I am!” I defend.
“Oh, really? What’s your favorite movie?”
I pause, thinking for a second.
“What’s your favorite book? What do you want to do when you grow up? What’s your dream job? What’s your favorite drink? Food? Color? Who are you, April? Or were you just Hunter’s girlfriend?”
His questions hit me like punches, one right after the other until the last… that one hurts worst of all. Because it’s true.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs at my lack of response.
“Well, how is one supposed to know all these things at twenty-one?”
“You live a little April, you go out there and find out!” He shrugs his shoulders, his brown eyes gleaming at me.
“You’re telling me you know all about yourself?”
“No, but I know my likes and my dislikes. I know where I’m going and where I’ve been.” He turns away from me now to watch a hayride pass us through the meadow below. I take another donut; this is a half- dozen kind of conversation. Things are silent as I continue to eat all six donuts. He never reaches for
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