Weddings are adult proms. They are a chance to dress up, twirl around a dance floor, and pretend that life is a fairy tale of balls and princes for a few minutes. I didn't believe in fairy tales; I never believed in them. I wore my black dress as a badge of honor that life was not all love stories and happily-ever-afters. My eyes filtered through that cascade of vibrant blue, yellow and purple dresses as my mind was pulled back to the royal green velvet dress of my prom.

"Did you have fun tonight?" Jake asked as we drove home.

He had offered to go to one of the various after-prom parties, but I wanted to get home. I wanted to be on the lake in case something happened.

The cab of his truck felt smaller as the inky black night pressed against the window. The headlights sliced through the thickness like a knight wielding a shiny sword.

"Yeah, I did," it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either.

When you are losing someone you love, you start to mourn early and painfully. Every moment you share with them cuts into you with the dagger of what you will soon be missing. Worse, any moment away stabs deeper. Every moment away reminds you of what life will be like without them. The frivolity of celebrating teens in the prime of their lives felt like a cruel twist as I knew my life was about to be forever changed, and Beth would soon be taking her last breath.

Jake must have sensed my melancholy. He pulled me to his side and gave the crown of my head a gentle kiss. We had grown closer than ever over the past two weeks. He crawled in my window every night and fell asleep beside me. It was unspoken, but we both found solace in each other enough that we could finally sleep.

"I haven't seen my mom as happy as she was tonight in weeks," he added quietly.

"Yeah," I let the silence finish my sentence that took hold as he killed the engine of his truck in our driveway.

"You want to check out the lake for a few minutes; that shitty music is still pounding in my head."

"Sure," I murmured as I pulled away from him.

As we gazed out over the silky waters of the lake, I felt the soft cling of his tux coat fall around my shoulders before his arms circled my waist. With his height, he had to stoop a bit to rest his chin on my head. Instinctively I leaned into his chest and let my hand grip his. We were entwined in each other once again.

"I wanted to take you tonight," he murmured. "It wasn't a favor for you; it was a favor for me."

A small, sad smile tipped my lips. It was a sweet, gentle admission that, if the situation had been different, he never would have made. If the time had been different, he would be teasing me right now or, I would be at a post-prom party with a boy whose name I would barely remember in twenty years. But the circumstances were gutting and yielded quiet moments of love and compassion that two kids should not be forced to share.

"Nifer," there was a catch in his throat that caused me to twist to meet his gaze. "I..."

He couldn't finish. He was unable to ask, but I knew what he wanted. I knew what I wanted, what we needed. I pushed into him softly as his arms constricted tighter around me. He dipped, slouching in what must have been a painful manner, but it allowed our lips to meet.

Jake and I were forever connected through loss, so it fit that I lost my virginity to him that night. It was gentle and quiet. It didn't even feel unexpected. It was as though we had been building to that moment our whole lives. As I lay in his arms, letting the moment pass over me, I felt a calm that I wanted to stay in forever. It pulled me into a peaceful sleep.

The peace, the comfort, the world was shattered as the sun rose the following day.

"Jake, Jen; you have to wake up," there was an odd cadence to my dad's voice, labored.

"No," Jake's voice was loud. It crashed through his chest and into mine as much as the sound filled my ears.

"What?" I said, still in a groggy sleep.

"I'm sorry, Jake," my dad's words ran cold through me.

"No," Jake shot out from beneath me. "No."

And then he was gone. He only made it to our front steps. That was as far as he needed to go. Once he got there, he was faced with the ambulance. I fell to the step beside him in my own disbelief. My mind clung to the slow movements of the EMTs; there was no need for urgency.

"Jake," my mom rush to him once she saw him.

He had barely stood before they crashed into each other. I couldn't watch. The storm of tears heaving from each was too much. I found myself in the kitchen pouring cereal I had no intention of eating. I could hear voices all around me, but the words didn't register. I just sat at the kitchen island, stirring my cereal until it turned to mush. Only then did I push it away and follow the trail of voices.

My mom's eyes burned with the red rings of tears. I gave her a silent hug before settling on the couch next to Jake. He didn't look at me; he didn't lift his head from his hands.

"We'll give you two a few minutes," my dad offered as he ushered my mom out.

"Jake," I set a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't Nif," he mumbled into his hand. "Don't tell me it will be okay. It will never be okay. My mom was dying, and I was in bed with you. She died alone." And then he was gone.

There are moments when someone is gone, completely gone from your life, but still standing right next to you. I know this because that was how Jake and I were at the funeral. He was close enough to touch, but not a single glance fell my way. I had indeed become Jake Miller's little ghost. After the funeral, he left; he ran back to the city he loved and didn't look back to the lake.

Jake was gone, slipping into faded memories that were recalled less and less as years passed. But Beth clung to me. Even though she was gone, I heard her laugh when the leaves fluttered in a subtle breeze and felt her warmth on every sunny day. I welcomed these reminders.

It was Beth that pulled me to that park. The allure of the warm breeze tugged me to the calm water of a tranquil fountain. I found my eyes embracing it like the lake back home. It was as though Beth was soothing my homesickness in this concrete world I found myself.

"Hello," his voice was a tick lower than I recalled, but I didn't need to lift my gaze to know who it was.

"Hello," I replied without adjusting my gaze.

He stood beside me in silence as I continued to gaze at the fountain.

"Coffee?" He finally broke.

I adjusted my gaze to him. He still wore his hair long. The waves of curls fell around his face but threaten to shield his eyes if the breeze decided to sway.

"Sure." I had no option but to agree; in the back of my head, I knew Beth had brought us together.

"How are you?" I asked as we settled into the white plastic chairs of an overly chic café.

"Well, and you?"

"Okay," but my words arrived on the tip of a sigh.

Jake didn't say anything but prodded with a glance.

"I'm a little homesick. I prefer pine needles to concrete and trees to skyscrapers," I admitted.

"Why are you here?"

"Internship with a publishing house."

He nodded. "You could have called."

"No, I couldn't have."

He flicked away the sugar packet he had been fidgeting with and slumped back in his chair. It was such a young mannerism that felt stark against my memories of him, but our two-year difference no longer felt like a difference at all.

"I'm sorry about how I left things. I was angry, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you." His eyes stayed focused on the sugar packet, leaving me entirely unconvinced that he did not still blame me, at least a little. "So, are you here all summer?" His words came tight as he tried to redirect the conversation.

"Yeah," I took a sip of my tea.

"Why didn't you call?" He pressed again.

It was a weird question that hung in the air like smog. Why would I call? We weren't friends. He ran away from the lake and never looked back. As far as I knew, he only called my mom for obligatory holiday and birthday greetings; I didn't even get those. The confusion must have registered on my face because he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well, we could get dinner. How are Thursdays?" His eyes flickered to mine for just an instant, and then they were back down to his coffee cup. It was a child-like movement.

"Thursdays? Plural?"

"You're here all summer, right? We might as well reconnect."

I didn't want to reconnect with this person. I wanted to reconnect with my childhood Jake, with Beth's son. Being in such proximity to this stranger made me feel even more lonely; it made me miss Beth was an overwhelming pang that I hadn't felt since she first passed.

But my words betrayed me with a casual, "sure."

It was evident that Jake was as stunned by my agreement as I was.

"Oh, okay, great. Let me just..." He pulled out his phone, and a moment later, there was a ping from my purse.

I pulled it out to see, "this still you?"

I responded with a simple, "this is still my phone."

Jake let a small but genuine laugh split his lips at my response.

"Anyway, you know what I'm up to; how about you? You graduated last month, right?" I tossed casually.

"Yeah, I got a job working as an audit consultant at an accounting firm. It's..." He paused, contemplating a lie, before settling on, "it's really boring."

It was my turn to let out a chuckle.

"But it pays the bills." He glanced up at me; this time, his gaze lingered. "And in this city, that's saying something."

"Do you see your dad often?"

"No," it was a short, closed answer and caused his eyes to fall again.

It was then that I realized how easy it was to lose him. Every tiny inch forward would quickly dissolve into a significant step back with the wrong topic. Being near him felt like being near a wildfire; you never knew the direction the wind would take him. The constant threat of pain and destruction loomed beneath the curtain of his curls, but I was drawn to him, to my past. I was living in a moment of panic where you know you have to get out quickly, so you grab what you need. Only once you have gotten away, you are clutching a photo of your childhood dog instead of medication or even your phone charger. I was clutching a picture of my childhood friend, my first crush, my first love, but he was burning to the ground in front of me. I never felt so alone in my life.