To Catch a Firefly

by Emmy Sanders

“I’m gonna get out of this town one day, El.” He never was mine to keep. No matter how much I wish it.

“If you ever decide to love someone,” he says slowly, “they’ll be very lucky.” He already is.

For one night, I hold Lucky like I want to. And in the morning, I go.

“I’ll miss you, too,” I tell him. He croaks, his arms hanging limply at his sides. “Damn it, El.” What… Lucky stalks over, shoving my shoulder. “You…you can’t just…” He huffs again, and I have no clue why he’s so put out. “I’m going to call. And you’re going to talk to me.” It sounds like a threat. “Yes,” I say. “And sometimes, we’ll email.” I nod. “But we’re not done,” he says vehemently, stepping into my space. “We’ll never be done. Me and you, we don’t have an ending.” And what do I possibly say to that?

And the more he talks, the more animated he gets, and the wider his smile. It’s good, seeing that. It’s right.

This pain, it’s my own, and I’ll work through it.

For a split second, I’m not sure what I’m seeing is real. But then I feel it, that crackle, that spark that lives in Lucky, and I can’t move fast enough.

Lucky is first up the steps, giving me a beaming smile that instantly transports me back to when we were sixteen. Or eleven or eighteen or twenty-two.

“Sometimes,” I say slowly, “you give me such bad advice.” “And sometimes I don’t.” “Sometimes, you don’t,” I agree.

Most mornings, I barely wake while he’s getting ready, apart from the moment he places a kiss against my forehead. I always remember that.

When I feel like I can finally speak again, I ask, “Have you always known? That he loved me?” Her smile is soft. Kind. “Yes. But neither of you were ready for it, I don’t think. Until now.”