Neverland (My First Attempt at a Short Story)
He told me he never wanted to grow older. Although I’d secretly held the same desire in my heart for as long as I could remember, I laughed as if it were a joke.
“How wonderful it would be.” he would say to me.
“How silly.” I would always reply.
He never took my words too seriously- he knew me far too well to mistake my intentions. He was much more perceptive than most people his age.
“Really though, we could do it! Just go up and live out there!” he would say, pointing high toward the dazzling blanket of stars, and then he would get lost in the endlessness of the night sky.
“And I suppose we’d follow the second star to the right?” I asked him one night, interrupting his focus. He couldn’t be bothered though.
“No.” he said quietly that evening.
“No?” I hadn’t heard that response before- not from him. I feared my harsh humor had finally broken his spirit, that spirit that I adored, but would never admit it.
“No.” he exhaled once more, slightly less hopelessly than before, “We’d live on the second star to the right!” a wide grin spread across his face.
And there it was again, that unwavering optimism and childlike wonder that should have vacated his presence years ago, but somehow still managed to remain intact.
There were thousands of stars out that night- no different from any other night. But there were no city lights or distractions to take away from the sheer beauty of the evening.
“Okay.” I said, intrigued. I decided to play his game, “So which star are we looking at here? Of the hundreds- just right here- which will be our new home?”
He smiled again, clearly pleased with my response.
I felt the warmth of his embrace as he shifted closer to me. He kept moving until our cheeks were almost side by side, so we were looking at the same spot from the same angle.
I still remember the feeling of his hand cupped over my shoulder, his cheek grazing mine as he pointed up at the brightest star we could see. A wisp of cool air swept by as the words left his lips, “That one, right there. You see it?”
Nodding, I worked past the butterflies in my stomach and uttered, “Yeah, I see it.”
“That one.” he whispered.
My head fit perfectly into the groove of his neck. I felt his chin rest on my head as I leaned on his shoulder.
The silence was nice; we watched our star, our new self-proclaimed home, together.
A few days later I sat outside on my front porch for almost an hour before Stuart came over. I never told him that I sat there hoping for his company, but that’s exactly what I wanted and I’m sure he knew it.
His sneakers squeaked as he walked up the old splintered stairs, skipping over the second one. That second stair had cracked months ago; nobody ever got around to fixing it, so we’d all gotten used to avoiding it. A few near slips and you were sure to remember the next time you climbed them.
Stuart eased himself into the spot beside me on the bench and smiled. “So do you want to go on a walk?” he asked with a hint of shyness that I’d never heard before, not coming from him, anyway.
“Sure.” I smiled back, calmly, desperately trying not to appear too eager.
And before I could say another word, Stuart’s fingers were laced through mine and he was pulling me back across to the front of the porch.
As he carefully guided me down the stairs, we both jumped to the ground to avoid the danger of the broken stair.
He pulled me along, down the gravelly walkway, turning back to shout, “We’ll be back soon!”
I looked to see my mother waving at us through the kitchen window.
“You two stay close!” she yelled through the screen.
It was a gorgeous evening- just the beginning of summer- warm, but still cool enough to keep the house windows open.
I noticed Stuart put his free hand in his pocket.
“You cold?” I asked, curiously.
“Oh, no. I’m fine.” his response came almost too quickly as he yanked his hand back out.
“That’s a real pretty dress you’ve got on, Eleanor.” Stuart commented, “But, then again, you always wear the prettiest things. They suit you!” he smiled coyly.
I couldn’t keep myself from blushing as a grin became the most prominent feature on my face, “Oh, that’s so nice of you, Stuart!”
“Anytime.” he said, giving my attire a once over.
The lavender dress was undoubtedly my favorite article of clothing and one of my favorite possessions. I think I liked it so much because I couldn’t wear it without feeling pretty.
There was something so kindhearted and genuine about the things he would say to me. I just wanted to trap every word- exactly as he’d said them- and put them in a jar to be preserved forever. A jar of memories, wouldn’t that be something? They would be worth the effort though, no doubt about that.
I had quite an imagination- I daresay almost as great as Stuart’s- but he was the master of make believe. He was able to create some of the most spectacular stories and make them seem real. At the very least, he’d have you wishing they were real.
Stuart led me off the path, “This way.” he prompted, but I hesitated.
“Mother said not to wander too far…” I mumbled nervously.
“Don’t worry- we’re almost there- it’s not far at all!” Stuart reassured me. He could tell I was still skeptical. “I’ve been here before. Oh, come on, Eleanor!” he stretched his hand toward me and I took hold of it.
We walked through the brush and between a miniature forest of trees that guarded a wide open field. It was totally vacant except for the presence of a few flowers, most likely weeds, but they still added a lovely bit of color to the place.
Stuart left my side and returned with a small bag from which he removed a blanket. He spread the old ratty thing on the ground, “Sorry, this was the only one Mum would let me use- especially after I told her I’d be putting it on the grass.” He smiled apologetically and sat down, reaching his hand up to me- an invitation to join him.
I sat with him on the coarse canvas; it wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world- but it was preferable to sitting directly on the muddy grass.
We watched the sky for what seemed like hours- and then Stuart finally spoke, “We’re leaving in a month.”
Those words were spoken so softly, so gently, and yet each one pierced my heart like a thousand knives.
“Oh?” I casually exhaled, as if I the fact that Stuart’s family would be moving to California in a matter of weeks hadn’t been the most prominent thought in my mind for the past few days. California was a long way from North Carolina, and as far as I knew, we’d probably never see each other again.
The thought of being so far away from Stuart again made my eyes well up. Perfect, this was the exact reaction I was trying to avoid.
“Yeah.” he sounded defeated, hopeless- just like me.
I never meant to seem like I didn’t care- but I didn’t want our evening to end with me soaking his sleeve with my tears.
So I simply said, “I’ll miss you, Stuart. A lot.”
“I wish I didn’t have to go.” He said.
“Me too.” My voice cracked as I subtly lifted my hand to the corner of my eye to wipe away some moisture that had begun to accumulate.
I felt Stuart shifting over, so I lifted my head from his shoulder.
“I’ve got something for you.” he said as I watched him reach around in his pocket again- the same pocket from earlier.
And then he removed a tiny velvet bag.
“For you.” he smiled, his eyes lit up as they focused on the soft burgundy bag that he placed in my palm.
I could feel my cheeks burning and my stomach turning from the excitement- not because I was receiving a present, but because it was from Stuart.
It could have been a handful of our walkway gravel glued together and I would have still been content.
Oh, but it wasn’t gravel inside of the bag. After admiring it for a moment, I carefully pulled the ends of the tiny ribbon to undo the bow that I’m sure Stuart took a great deal of time to perfect. When the top was loosened, I reached inside and removed a necklace.
“I made it myself. Well, I had a bit of help, but I did it mostly on my own.” Stuart said nervously, waiting for my verdict.
The necklace consisted of multiple strands of knotted thread- I knew it must have taken him hours to fashion. The thread was the same burgundy hue as the velvet sack in which it came. Hanging from the middle was the most beautiful star. It had been carved by hand, sanded meticulously, and varnished. Stuart’s father was a carpenter, and no doubt the one who assisted in its creation.
I held the pendant between my fingers and rubbed the perfect surface; it was as smooth as glass. I felt a rough area on the back and I turned it over to find “E+S” etched into the wood in Stuart’s handwriting.
“See, it’s our star…” he spoke quietly.
“It’s just… just perfect!” I threw my arms around Stuart’s neck, catching him off guard, a few years escaping as I was too overwhelmed to try to control them.
He let out a big laugh as his arms wrapped around me, returning the embrace.
“Here, let me help you,” Stuart said as he took the necklace from my hands. He looped it around my neck loosely and began to secure a knot in the back.
“I can tie it looser, so you can take it off when you want.” Stuart offered, but I said not to.
“Tie it up higher.” I said, “I’m not going to take it off.” I reassured him.
And as the words left my lips, I could almost feel Stuart smiling behind me; I heard him exhale a quiet sigh of relief.
“Done.” He said, moving back beside me and admiring his work. “It really looks good on you.”
“I love it, Stuart! I’ll think of you all the time.” I grinned.
I wasn’t lying; I never took it off. Not that evening, not the next week, and not the day he moved.
The day when he said goodbye and he kissed me for the first time, that was the moment it became real, the moment we realized what an impact this change would have.
He hugged me and we both cried, or at least I did anyway. My tear drops landed in beads on Stuart’s powder blue shirt before they sank in. They left tiny spots in the place where my head would rest on his shoulder for the last time before he was gone.
He promised to write, and he did a few times. I knew a visit would be too much to expect, what with the enormous distance that had been placed between us, but I always hoped that one day I’d be sitting outside on the front porch and he’d show up, just as a surprise, just like it used to be.
I wore my star every day, but the fragile burgundy threads eventually wore away and unraveled. There was nothing I could do to fix it, so I placed the threads in an old memory box and attached the pendant to a gold necklace that contained a locket, given to me by my parents. That one would surely last. It’s funny how the tiniest thing I owned was so tremendously important to me. ... Sometimes on warm summer evenings, I walk down that same gravel pathway and through the brush, between the trees until I reach that field. It’s one of the few areas that was left undeveloped, thank goodness.
And somehow, every time I visit, no matter how much time has passed, it always looks exactly like it did on the evening that Stuart took me there. The same calm emptiness, the same vibrant spectrum of color displayed in the patch of flowery weeds, the same sky, and our beautiful star- our Neverland.
Most nights I can still look up and see it, our make believe home. Of course, it was totally uninhabitable, but that never mattered. Even so, I’m sure Stuart would have imagined a way around it if I had brought it up.
It twinkles on occasion, nothing dramatic or anything particularly awe-inspiring, but just enough of a flicker to be noticeable. And in those rare moments, I find my fingers wrapped around that pendant that is so precious to me- my little piece of Stuart. I know that he’s still out there, and that he probably still thinks about me as well, but it’s not the same as same as having him here, the way it used to be.
Stuart was the most wonderful person I knew, my best friend, and the only boy I’d ever loved. Of course, at thirteen years old, nobody believed that either of us could properly grasp the concept of emotions like true love.
“You’re too young” and “You’ll understand when you’re older” were among the phrases that were thrown around a lot during the days surrounding Stuart’s departure. At first I believed them. Of course I was too young; I couldn’t even sort out my own feelings. I did what I could to distract myself, and it eventually began to work. Years passed, things changed, I grew older... and Dad finally got around to fixing that old, broken stair. ... We were having spaghetti for dinner; I could smell it through the open window. The sun was low, but there it was still bright enough for me to spot a figure in the distance- a man. I didn’t pay much mind to him until I noticed him walking up along the long pathway toward me. I glanced up, just for a second, and I immediately recognized him. The years had aged him a bit, but his identity was unmistakable.
“Hey Eleanor!” he exclaimed cheerily as ever. And as he hopped over the second stair, a force of habit, he added, “You want to go for a walk?” It was just like old times.
I nodded, unable to get any words out right away, and his eyes lit up as he spotted the star hanging from my neck. He briefly brushed his fingers across it and then flashed that wonderful smile at me, that smile I’d been missing for so long.
He reached for my hand, and the moment he laced his fingers through mine, nothing had changed and we were thirteen again.