One Summer Day
By Ardweden

	I squinted.  The sun was far too bright that day, but then it was 
far too bright every day, it being summer and all.  I glanced around, 
once again cursing the fact that I didn't have the foresight to wear 
shorts.  Really, people shouldn't be penalized for not having any sense 
of what the weather was going to be like.
	"Come on," Dan ordered as he stepped out of the driver's side of 
the car.  I nodded mutely and followed him across the parking lot to an 
unassuming Japanese restaurant in the middle of the strip mall.
	The waitress at the door smiled at our entrance, and led us 
through the mostly-empty restaurant to a small table next to a window.  
We made our orders immediately and chatted idly as we waited.  I didn't 
see Dan in forever, since before he moved out of his parents' home, and 
we had a lot to catch up on.  I grilled him about school, work, and the 
people I fell out of touch with, and he did the same.
	Our food came, and we fell to eating, though the talk didn't 
stop.  It really was good to see him again.  I didn't realize how much 
I missed his company over the past few months.
	"You know," Dan said as he lifted a piece of beef teriyaki to his 
mouth, "Don gave me a hard time when I told him I was going to see 
you."
	I blinked in surprise.  I wasn't any threat to Don... how could I 
be?  "What?  How?"
	Dan shrugged.  "I told him that I was going to see Arwen, because 
I haven't seen her in a while.  Told him what we were going to do, too.  
He... he asked me how I felt about you."
	I stared at him.  Part of me wanted to just let it drop, stop the 
conversation right there, but he looked like he wanted to finish.  And 
the rest of me wanted it as well.  "And?"
	"And I told him I loved you.  That I'd do anything for you."  He 
wasn't really looking at me anymore - more like through me.  "I tried 
to explain, but it only dug the hole deeper."
	Tearing my eyes away from his face, I turned my attention back to 
the rice.  "Maybe that's all there is to say."  Though I'm sure my face 
was perfectly serious, inwardly I crowed.  If anyone has a problem with 
us being best friends and exes at the same time, they'll just have to 
deal with it.
	"Yeah."  I winced slightly.  Okay, steer the conversation away 
from this; it was just a little too dangerous.  Reminders of what could 
have been... so I switched to something a bit more comfortable, but it 
didn't last long, falling into silence once again.  It was fine with 
me, really.  Some of my best times were spent in a comfortable silence 
with him.
	"Arwen," he said.
	"Hm?"  I looked up from my food, a piece of chicken dangling from 
my mouth.  He smiled, but it looked a bit sad, so I quickly gobbled the 
food up.  "What is it?"
	"If I were to leave Don," he began, "Say, hypothetically.  If I 
were to realize it was all a mistake, and come to you, and tell you so, 
would you take me back?"  He gazed at me so intensely, and I did my 
best not to fidget.
	"I... don't know."  No, I wanted to say.  "I wouldn't take you 
back immediately, of course.  That's dangerous."
	"Well, if six months passed between when we broke up and when I 
asked you... would you?"
	I looked at him and flinched inwardly.  Six months was a long 
time.  Or it could seem like a long time... we had broken up only seven 
months ago; there wasn't a very big difference there.  Strange, though, 
it felt like longer.  Like years.  "I don't know," I said quietly.  I 
wanted to say yes.  His eyes were begging for a yes, and I was so sorry 
I couldn't give it to him.  "A lot can happen in six months."  I'm too 
scared to take you back.  You'll leave me like before.  But I want to, 
I really do, but I'm scared.  I could feel tears at the edges of my 
eyes, but held them back.  My days as a crybaby were over.  I was 
stronger than that.  "A lot," I repeated for emphasis.
	He mulled it over, but I think he accepted the lie.  We went back 
to eating, turning the conversation to lighter topics.  I don't think 
either of us wanted to deal with it at the moment, and that was fine 
with me.  There wasn't much food left, so we left the restaurant soon, 
in interest of getting ice cream.  We drove across the street to an ice 
cream place (I can't remember the name), ordered some quickly melting 
cones, and made our way to a public park.
	Much of that afternoon passed in a blur.  I was happier than I'd 
been for a long while; it's amazing how lonely a person can become and 
not realize it.  And I had been very, very lonely.  He would bring up 
our past relationship, but I managed to steer the topic clear of that, 
for the most part.  I'm sure he didn't mean to make me suffer, however 
minor it was, but so much of it was incidental.  Two years can be a 
very big part of your life, much as six months can seem like forever.
	I didn't want to go back to the way I was: the lonely person that 
didn't realize it... or even the lonely person that did.  So we made 
plans.  Go swimming the next day, goof off a few days after; I was 
determined to stay in touch with him.  I think he was with me, too.  
Don might have made things difficult, but I wanted to talk to him about 
the way Dan and I related.  I held no malice towards him, but I really 
thought that the whole jealousy thing was a bit silly, if partially 
justified.
	So we talked and joked and laughed and planned, and I loved every 
minute of it.  We ran partially through a public fountain (who was 
going to stop us?) and were dangling our feet in it afterwards, when 
Dan once again made his way into dangerous territory.  We were 
reminiscing at the time, talking about particularly silly things we'd 
done, and he said something along the lines of, "Do you remember when I 
proposed to you?"
	There was a half-forgotten memory at the edge of my brain.  
"Proposed?"
	"Yeah.  I think it was at your house, and you had a blanket over 
your head."
	And then it rushed back to me.  I was sitting on our couch, and 
Dan and I were goofing off, and I was feeling particularly silly and 
put a fuzzy blue blanket over my head.  I don't know what Dan's 
expression was - the blanket covered my eyes - but he took my hands and 
asked me to marry him.  I laughed and said, "I would, but you don't 
have a ring."
	Dan nodded.  I started, then realized I had spoken aloud.  "It 
was fun."  I grinned at him.  I would have married you, I added 
silently.
	"I would have married you," he told me.  "I was ready to."
	I wanted to scream.  The tears were filling my eyes then, and I 
splashed my face with water to cover them up.  I had to choke them 
back.  I was stronger than this.  "Really?"  I forced a laugh.
	Dan nodded again, staring partially into the distance, partially 
at me.  "Really.  I don't think there was anything I wanted more.  If 
you said yes, I would have followed through with it."
	So close.  I was so close, back then.  I bit my lip and nodded, 
feeling the feeling of that blue blanket covering my head, the warmth 
of his hands clasped on mine.  I didn't know what to say or do.  If I 
opened my mouth, I would have screamed or cried or something similarly 
disastrous, so I kept silent.  Dan smiled at me, a wonderfully 
painfully sweet smile, and told me that he had to get home.  He had to 
make dinner for the guests Don invited over, and he would call me the 
next morning.
	I didn't disagree.  I wanted to get home as well, but for 
entirely different reasons.  He dropped me off, and I smiled and waved 
cheerfully as he pulled out of my driveway, and I watched as he drove 
down the street, to his new life.  The one with Don.
	I entered the house, greeted my family, and made my way to my 
room.  Sitting on my bed, I reflected on the day.  Dan wasn't going to 
call me.  I knew it.  Sure, he said he would, but... he was with Don 
now.  And even though we were best friends, we would never be as close 
as we used to be, and he had new and different priorities, no matter 
how much he and I wished it weren't so.  I started crying, then.  I 
brought my knees to my chin in the seclusion of my room, and felt the 
tears roll down my face, and felt the pain of loneliness take me away.