The Calm Before the Storm

I sat in a place away from the city that lies 50 miles away. I sucked in the crisp air and traced my fingers along the prickly grass beneath me. The way it softly stroked my skin was comforting. It pulled me from why I had to escape. Photos of Flint and me littered the walls of my apartment. His bright, boyish face and the glint in his eyes etched in echoes of his laugh. Even the color of the sky hovering over my head reminded me of their color: soft, powder blue, and straightforward. Little did I know that when the sky looks that tranquil, it is always a sign of an oncoming storm. You are always told that grey skies and clouds molded together are all-telling, but no. It is when your muscles are loose, and you genuinely believe that the smile on your face could never be stolen. It is then that the rain creeps in and pours because you are open and defenseless. That's how I feel right now in the middle of this field, surrounded by lime green grass and marigold flowers. The picturesque beauty and serenity fed into the edge, eating away at me. I felt that way the day before the accident a year ago, when I was only 22, and he was 24, fresh out of college and creating a life of our own.

I was at work, stocking away in the produce aisle. My boss had just blown his head off at a co-worker for stocking the wrong shelves and that he would be fired if he did it again. I kept my attention trained on my assignment, studying each item and trying my best to avoid the same fate. That is when Flint's familiar royal blue sedan pulled into the parking lot across from the market I worked. Then his bright face popped into the store and startled me as I reached to stock the upper shelf. I punched his arm playfully, but my heart fluttered at the sight of him. Flint swooped me in his arms and pecked my forehead. When he pulled away, he said, "Let's go! We got a date in five!"

I shot him bewildered eyes. "What? Now? I can't!" I protested.

He responded by yanking me with him to his car. "Come on!" he urged. "No time for looking back!"

In my peripheral vision, my boss stepped forward from wherever he was stationed and gave me a look of death. I couldn't help but laugh at the pure fury in his eyes. As much as I wanted to, I honestly couldn't care less. But as I watched Flint from the passenger seat as he took a stretch leading out of the city, I knew something was off. His shoulders were high and hunched over. An unfamiliar expression mixed in with the wildness of his eyes, and the knuckles were white from how hard he clenched on the steering wheel. "Flint?" I called suspiciously. "Where are we going?"

"To the place where you and I had our first date..." he said, seemingly hoping that his answer would brush off my worries. To maintain the moment with Flint, I decided to bite my tongue.

Before I knew it, the two of us were lying in the fields as the grass pricked against our skin, and the blanket of yellow hues invaded our vision. I watched Flint pluck one of the marigold flowers from its colony and twirl it by the stem between his fingers. Then he paused and looked back at me. In a split second, his arm reached over the space between us. I felt the stem lace around my left ear as a grin slightly pulled my cheeks. "What are you doing?" I said, giggling.

"I wanted to look at my two favorite things in the world side by side," Flint replied. Then he put up his hands, mimicking a camera he pretended to angle. "You and that flower make a beautiful picture."

I rolled my eyes. "I rather one of you and I."

Flint just shrugged and fished his phone from his pocket. "Mind as well, right?" With that, he took one of me. Then, he shifted himself like so to take another with us together. As soon as the picture was taken, I grabbed his phone to send the photo to mine. After it was sent, I took one good look, especially studying Flint's face. He did his usual toothy smile, and the same way he cocked his head back enough to rest on my shoulder. However, his eyes did not hold as they used to in the other pictures of us. How his brows rested on his face seemed to be a result of stress and not from smiling. I guess I stared at the image too long because he asked, "What's wrong?"

I looked up at him, knowing my thoughts were all over my face. "I should ask you the same."

"What do you mean?"

"Something is off, and I know it," I confronted him. "You're hiding something..."

Flint didn't bother to fight me on that one. He hung his head and let out a tight breath. "I am..." He paused momentarily, gaining the courage to tell me what was on his mind. When Flint finally did, he said, "My mom hasn't been okay these days. Long story short, she needs a kidney and I'm thinking of giving her one of mine."

Shock crashed over me like a deafening wave. "What!" I finally blurted after a drawn moment of staring at Flint. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped!"

Instead of answering me, Flint stood to his feet and started to walk away. "I don't want to fight about this, Ansel."

"I always thought we were open with each other!" I yelled after him as he drew farther from me. I raked through my finger-length sandy curls, frustratedly. Then I went after Flint, asking a million questions. But he kept pulling away. In retrospect, I should have never gone off like that. On the other hand, that was not the first time Flint held something from me. He's promised to be more open with every argument, but this one... I just couldn't...

Somewhere between low blows and "I just want us to be transparent!” we winded up in his car and on the road back to the city. The argument seemed to worsen by the minute. Neither of us was looking ahead. In the next instant, a white-hot flash seared our vision. Screams filled the air as the car toppled off the side of the road.

Flash forward to today—July 9th—when I lost the one person I've been in love with almost forever. I just turned 23 three days ago, and Flint would have been 25 in August. I quit my job at the market because I could not stop staring at the sliding entrance doors, hoping to see Flint's face one more time. At one point, my boss got in my face, and I knew then it was time to let go of that job. Now, I work for an insurance company and devote my spare time helping Flint’s family with his mother. With the time I keep for myself, I would drive to the same fields where Flint and I last spent together. I plucked one of the marigold flowers from its colony and laced its stem in my ear, picturing the moment when Flint did the same to me. Then my hand reached in my pocket, fished out my phone, and pulled up the photo he took of us. With tears sliding against my cheeks, I uttered the words, "I miss you so much." Then, a clap of thunder rattled the sky as thick droplets poured over me. I squinted up as they mixed with my tears. I hadn't noticed the changed saturation of the sky nor the blanket of clouds smothering the sunlight.