FicWad

Pulling her from the trance she was meditating in, her grandmother's voice rang from the far end of the front porch where the petite elderly woman was forcing a big, clumsy dog outside, "Anabella darling, why don't you just go over and say hello?"

With a sigh and a deep breath, cold Chicago air filled her lungs as her feet mechanically pushed off of the ground below, forcing the swing on the porch to sway back and forth before giving an answer, "I don't think that would be a very good idea right now Grams."

Eyeing the black Mercedes parked in the driveway across the street, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering; situated near the window, she was waiting for her parents to arrive for Thanksgiving dinner when she saw him pull up to his fathers house and her thoughts have been racing since the moment she watched him slam his car door shut and lazily drag himself through the front door.

Taking a seat next to her disheartened granddaughter, with her nearly as elderly golden retriever taking a seat at her feet, Grams Stumotrolazera placed a gentle hand on Ana's knee, her soft voice echoing through the frost lingering in the air, "Every Sunday afternoon for an entire year he would come over and sit on this very swing with me for hours, catching up on current events and keeping up on what it was that you were doing ..."

Absently fiddling with the zipper on her jacket, Ana could feel guilt and sadness running through her chilled veins as tears began to brew behind her eyes. "It really wouldn't be such a good idea, he's mad at me right now."

With a quite laugh Grams began a story, "You know you two crazy kids despised each other when you were young, until high school ..."

Ana's ears to perked up and her eyes slowly rose from their fixation on her feet. "You went to that nonsense private school your mother insisted on you were afraid of that quite little boy who you didn't see on the playground every day, refusing to speak to him because he didn't go to your elementary school and he was angry at you for disliking him for no reason. Oh and then you had to go and throw rocks at his bike ..."

"He broke my glasses and stubbed my toe with that bike!" Ana spoke up, defending her childish antics.

"Regardless" Her grandmother laughed, "when you moved in with your grandfather and I that summer and we put you into public school that fall, you decided that it was okay to give the poor boy across the street a chance, now didn't you?"

Ana nodded, trying her best to hide the smile that fought to play on her lips, "I needed someone to ride the bus with and I didn't want to sit alone at the lunch table."

"And when your mother died ..." Grams sparked the emotional fire and Ana's eyes dropped back to the ground before her grandmother slid a finger gently under her chin, pulling Ana's gaze back to eye level, "Patrick was the only person you would talk to."

Allowing the smile to spread, she eyed his car in the driveway across the street, and took a deep breathe, letting out a quite sigh, remembering out loud, "He always said he would buy himself a black Mercedes when his band made it big ... I always told him that he was crazy."

"He's become quite a successful young man these days ..." Grams explained, eyeing her granddaughters stare, "When he couldn't spend afternoons with me on the porch, he would call from time to time, from somewhere in the world, just to catch up, always with a marvelous jet-setting story of his rock star lifestyle ... always curious about you."

Ana let out a deep sigh, unable to find the words that were brewing in her mind and unable to tame the feeling that was rising inside of her. Unable to tear her eyes away from his car, innocently parked in the driveway; she wanted to break down and cry, the memories crashing through her mind like water over a broken flood gate.

"Ignoring his phone calls wasn't going to make the pain go away sweetie ..." Grams assured her granddaughter, as she watched the warm tears build up behind her eyelids. "And hiding away didn't make you love him any less, did it?"

Shaking her head as her grandmother's fragile hand reached up to wipe away the falling tears, Ana allowed her grandmother to embrace her in a soft, comforting hug. For years she had been naïve, hoping that the time and distance would clear her mind of all things Patrick, but in the end, the old-fashioned saying proved to hold true, and her heart would only grow fonder.

Ushering Ana to the backyard as the dog became restless, in need of a release, Grams linked arms with her granddaughter, continuing their bonding in the depths of the backyard. "I don't judge" Grams began once again, "but that silly boy is starting to prove himself half as dense as the dunce that let poor Patrick go."

Ana's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Kate and of a certain unmentionable, as she took a seat on the old wooden swing set, running her fingers over the rusted metal chains of the swing, holding back the tears that so desperately desired to escape once again.

Echoing through the yard, Ana knew the sound of his front door closing better than she wanted to admit, and her breathe caught in her throat when her grandmother handed the dog leash over as Patrick made his way through the yard in their direction, whispering "He was your best friend, don't you think its time to let him reclaim something in your life?" before retreating to the house, with a quick wave to Patrick before shutting the kitchen door behind her.

Absently kicking the leaves in the yard as he made his way to the broken down swing set, he had no idea what he was doing. Excusing himself from the table, he caught a glimpse of her through the front window as he made his way through the house, away from the awkward dinner conversation brewing at the table.

Before he knew it he was taking a seat next to her on an old rusted swing, still absently kicking at the leaves on the ground. Without thinking his actions through, he found his lips once again pressed to hers, the warmth of her lips on his forcefully pulling him back to the reality of a kiss, a kiss shared before words could even be exchanged.

Forcefully pulling Ana back to into reality was the tightening of a dog leash around her wrist and the jolt of the dog rushing toward the kitchen door, pulling Ana from the swing and dragging her across the yard, leaving Patrick alone on the rusted old swing set disheveled and numb, with the feeling of her kiss scorching his lips once again.