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Quote: "A grownup is a child, with layers on." – Woody Harrelson

I ran into her sister first, who paused before recognizing me. She said my name appreciatively as she extended her arms for a hug. When we broke she motioned to Kate.
 
"I see her,"’

She was surrounded by a group of elderly people I’d never met before. They were patting her back and she was smiling sincerely. Her brown hair was curled, a golden-brown dress showing off all her best features while remaining relatively conservative. I would never have guessed she was a 21 year old girl who was burying her father. I could still see her at 15, standing at "The Spot", telling me about her pharmacist father’s prescription pill problem. I hugged her after in a way that I never had before. I was only 15 myself and the only hugs I had experiences with came from my parents or as a greeting from distant relatives. I held her there, so naturally, promising to keep her secret.

Her eyes widened when we met and a wave of relief came over me when she smiled softly. I’d caused enough pain in the past to be unsure of how she would greet me. Our last meeting, nearly a year ago, involved me tearfully apologizing for our break up and the way I treated her afterwards. She was colder than the snow under my feet when I hugged her goodbye and muttered an acceptance of my apology.

That night wasn’t in my head when she reached out for a hug. Instead, I became aware of how unnatural it was. My coat was puffy and got in the way and I wasn’t sure where to put my hands or how long to hold on.
 "Thank you for coming," She said, her brown eyes looking up at me. "I know it probably wasn’t easy for you."
"Are you kidding?" I shot back quickly. "Showing up is the least I can do right now."

She ran her hands through her hair as she told me about the way he died. Complications from the drug use and the diabetes he didn’t know he had. I fought a smile as she pulled at her hair, messing up the curls the way I’d watched her do so many times in high school. Her mother came up to us, nearly sobbing, though the divorce had been finalized nearly 4 years ago now. After we’d exchanged a hug Kate told me about the way she’d banned her step-father from the wake and funeral, saying it was the most stubborn she’d ever been. I reminded her that I might still have a bruise from the kick she gave me sophomore year after one of our countless arguments and I smiled as she genuinely laughed.

Kate whispered that she’d thought about me after it happened and a conversation we’d had at 16. Her greatest fear had been that we would be attending his funeral soon. 5 years later, here we stood. My hairs stood on end as I flashed back to our talks and the moments I’d shared with her.

"My dad would be happy you were here, that my friends came," Kate paused. "I do consider you a friend, you know."
 "That’s all I’ve ever wanted."
"Well you are. I read the speech my dad said at aunt and uncle’s wedding, like ten years before I was born. About first love and never forgetting it. I will never forget you and I’m glad you were there."
My heart melted. She was still one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen up close.
 "I love you Kate."
She smiled, "I love you too."

We hugged and any tension there a minute ago faded. I told her how my sister would be turning 15 in just 3 days, the same age we were when we began dating. Her disbelief turned to an almost sad smile when I reminded her that at that age "I was dancing with you in the rain outside the Cheesecake Factory, only 15."
 "God, we weren’t 15, I swear we were like 30."
"Honestly," I stated. "I was more put together then."
 "I made a hell of a lot better choices, I could tell you that much."
"I mostly make terrible life decisions."

We laughed, but only because we were sad. I’m so far away from the boy who purely loved that girl that I sometimes can’t believe he existed. I used to do the right thing, I was always so sure of myself and what I wanted. I was clean. Now I stand in front of the girl I once told everything to, pretending as if alcohol didn’t lead to me losing my apartment and job. 

We were so serious back then, so sure of who we were and who we would be. Life hit us both hard in different ways before graduation and eventually we were too broken to pull it together. I was terrified of how much she knew about my problems at home,  unable to let her in because of it. Yet, I continued to sleep with her, knowing I couldn’t be the rock she’d had at 15. She could never trust me after the way I had hurt her, but couldn’t let me go because of the stability I’d once promised. I liked that she missed who she was sometimes too.

I walked out of the funeral home, heart heavy and happy at the same time. Happy because I saw her and make her smile on what was surely one of the hardest days of her life. Sad because we could never go back to who we were and I desperately want to be clean again.

I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.