A thousand Boy Kisses

fifty-three. In the blossom grove, beneath our favorite tree. With my Rune … and
my heart almost burst.” I’d gather my camera in my hands and I’d wait, my eye

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ready at the lens for the moment she would open her eyes. That moment. That
magical captured moment, where I’d see in her eyes how much she loved me.
And I’d tell her I loved her back, as I ran the back of my hand gently down her
cheek. Later I’d hang that picture on my wall so I could see it every single day…
The sound of an owl hooting pulled me from my daze. When I blinked back the
fantasy, it hit me like a truck—it was exactly that: a fantasy. Then the pain
surged back and stabbed me with the truth. I couldn’t bring myself to believe
that she was dying.
My vision blurred with fresh tears, and it took me a moment to realize that I
was at the tree that I’d pictured in my dreams. The one we always sat below. But
when I looked up at it in the darkness, with the cool wind whipping through its
branches, my stomach turned. The branches bare of leaves, their spindly arms
twisting and turning, all reflected this moment in time.
The moment I knew that my girl was leaving.
I forced myself to walk; somehow, my feet led me home. But as I walked, my
mind was a jumble of uncertainty—scattered, refusing to pin anything down. I
didn’t know what to do, where to go. Tears poured ceaselessly from my eyes; the
pain inside my body was settling into a new home. No part of me was spared.
I did it to save you…
Nothing could save me from this. The thought of her so sick, fighting to keep
the light she beamed so bright from fading, destroyed me.
Arriving at my house, I stared across at the window that had captivated me for
twelve years. I knew she was on the opposite side. The house was in darkness.
But as I moved my feet forward, I slowly ground to a halt.
I couldn’t … I couldn’t face her … I couldn’t—
Turning on my heel, I rushed up the steps to my house and burst through the
door. Tears of anger and sadness were ripping through me, both fighting for
dominance. I was being torn apart from the inside.
I passed the living room. “Rune!” my mamma called. I instantly heard the
catch in her voice.

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My feet drew to a stop. When I faced my mamma, who was standing up from
the couch, I saw tears tracking down her cheeks.
It hit me like a hammer-blow.
She knew.
Mamma stepped forward, her hand outstretched. I stared at it, but I couldn’t
take it. I couldn’t…
I rushed for my bedroom. I smashed through the door and then I just stood
there. I stood dead center and looked around, searching for an idea of what to do
next.
But I didn’t know. My hands lifted to my hair and gripped at the strands. I
choked on the sounds leaving my mouth. I drowned in the damn tears tracking
down my cheeks, because I didn’t know what the hell to do.
I took a step forward, then stopped. I moved to go to my bed, then I stopped.
My heart thumped in a slow, lurching beat. I fought to drag air through my
clogged lungs. I fought to not fall to the floor.
And then I broke.
I let the waiting anger free. I let it infuse me and carry me forward. Reaching
my bed, I bent to grip the frame and, with a loud roar, I lifted it with all my
strength, overturning the mattress and the sturdy wooden frame. I moved to my
desk and, with one swipe, cleared the top. Catching my laptop before it hit the
floor, I spun where I stood and hurled it into the wall. I heard it shatter, but it
didn’t help. Nothing was helping. The pain was still here. The gut-wrenching
truth.
The goddamn tears.
Clenching my fists, I threw back my head and I screamed. I screamed and I
screamed until my voice was rough and my throat was raw. Dropping to my
knees, I let myself drown in this grief.
Then I heard my door open and I glanced up. My mamma stepped through. I
shook my head, raising my hand to ward her off. But she kept coming.
“No,” I rasped, trying to move out of her way. But she didn’t listen, instead she

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dropped to the floor beside me. “No!” I spat out harder, but her arms stretched
out and wrapped around my neck.
“No!” I fought, but she pulled me to her, and I lost all that fight. I collapsed
into her arms and I cried. I screamed and I cried into the arms of the woman I’d
barely spoken to in two years. But right now, I needed her. I needed someone
who understood.
Understood what losing Poppy would be like.
So I let it all out. I gripped on to her so tight I thought it would leave a bruise.
But my mamma never moved; she cried with me. She sat quietly, cradling my
head as I lost all strength.
Then I heard movement from the doorway.
My pappa was watching us with tears in his eyes, sadness on his face. And that
reignited the flame in my stomach. Seeing the man that took me away, that
forced me from Poppy when she was about to need me most, it snapped
something inside.
Pushing back from my mamma, I hissed at him, “Get out.”
My mamma stiffened and I pushed her back further, glaring at my pappa. He
held up his hands, shock now etched across his face. “Rune…,” he said in a calm
voice.
It only fueled the flames.
“I said get out!” I stumbled to my feet.
My pappa glanced at my mamma. When he looked back at me, my hands were
clenched. I embraced the rage burning inside me.
“Rune, son. You’re in shock, you’re hurting—”
“Hurting? Hurting? You have no damn idea!” I roared, and stepped an inch
closer to where he stood. My mamma jumped to her feet. I ignored her as she
tried to move into my path. My pappa reached forward and pushed her behind
him and out into the hallway.
My pappa closed the door slightly, blocking her out.
“Get the hell out,” I said one last time, feeling all the hatred I had for this man

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boiling to the surface.
“I’m sorry, son,” he whispered, and he let a teardrop fall to his cheek. He had
the audacity to stand before me and shed a tear.
He had no friggin’ right!
“Don’t,” I warned, my voice cut and raw. “Don’t you dare stand there and cry.
Don’t you dare stand there and tell me you’re sorry. You have no damn right
when you were the one who took me away. You took me from her when I didn’t
want to go. You took me from her while she got sick. And now … now … she’s
dy—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I couldn’t bring myself to say that word.
Instead, I ran. I ran at my pappa and slammed my hands on his broad chest.
He staggered back and hit the wall. “Rune!” I heard my mamma shout from the
hallway. Ignoring her plea, I fisted my pappa’s collar in my hands and brought
my face to hover just in front of his.
“You took me away for two years. And because I was gone she cut me off to