The after graduation tradition was an all night party for the seniors at a water park in Provo, about 45 minutes north of Nephi. Kasey was sociable and loved to play, so I happily went along, though water parks and all-nighters that didn’t involve books weren’t really my thing. Afterwards, the graduates would load into a school bus and head back to the high school for a big pancake breakfast served up by some of the moms. Kasey had a job stocking shelves in the early morning hours at the Nephi grocery store. He had to work that morning, so my brother Johnny was going to swing by and grab me at the high school after his night shift at the power plant ended. Kasey had planned to grab a shower and a quick nap in the employee break room before his shift began.

As usual, we tried to postpone our parting to the last possible minute. It was just before 5:00 in the morning and Kasey didn’t have to be to work until 6:30, so he decided he had plenty of time to run me home himself and still get a shower and a catnap. We’d called the power plant from the phone in the school office and Johnny had been paged to a nearby phone.

“I don’t mind, Johnny,” Kasey had said earnestly. Johnny had laughed at him.

“I’m sure you don’t Kasey, and I know Josie doesn’t,” he said wryly, “but you two have had no sleep, it’s 5:00 in the morning, I’ll be ready to leave in 45 minutes, and there’s no reason for you to take the extra trip.”

Kasey reassured him and I cajoled, and before long we were on our way to Levan in Kasey’s beat-up, green Ford. We liked the old car because it had a bench seat in front, and I could sit right next to him. I sat as close to him as I could while he drove. He kept his left hand on the wheel and the other hand in mine. We both smelled like chlorine from the water park, and our hair had dried in stiff ringlets. I’d twisted mine up into a clip, but his fell over into his eyes, and I smoothed the curls off of his forehead as we chatted non-stop all the way to my house.

The sun was just peaking up over the eastern mountains that shadowed the sleepy town when we rolled across the gravel in front of my house. I had spent many a day up Pidgeon and Chicken Creek Canyons in those mountains. That year we’d had a dry, cold winter and not nearly enough snowfall, and as farmers in the West usually do, we’d spent a lot of time fasting and praying for moisture. The canyon wouldn’t see much run-off that year, which would be hard on the farms. But I was too content to worry overmuch, and that morning, with the sun behind them, those mountains just looked like home to me, all framed in pink hope with streaks of golden promise spilling over the tops. Kasey stepped out of the car and I slid out after him, closer to his door than my own. He leaned back against the door and pulled me up against him, resting his cheek against my head. We watched the sun rise in silence. Teenagers ordinarily don’t like to get up any earlier than they have to, and we were pretty normal in that regard. We’d never watched the sun rise together, so that morning was a first for us, and I remember being completely filled to the brim with contentment. There is a silent music in joy, and the music of that morning still makes my heart ache when I allow myself to a revisit it. His muscled young arms were strong around my shoulders, and when he leaned down and rubbed his cheek against mine, his breath was sweet and smelled faintly of maple syrup.

“I love you so much, Josie Jensen,” he whispered against my cheek, and I turned in his arms and cupped his face in my hands. I felt a lump rise in my throat as I looked at him, and I felt strangely like laughing with the sweetness of it all.

“I love you too, Kasey Judd, and if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to shatter into a million pieces,” I whispered back. He leaned toward me, but I closed the distance, standing on my tiptoes and pulling him down. I tasted the lingering sweetness on his lips and breathed him in. My heart stuttered in a now familiar two-step, and we sank into each other just like the first time. Breathlessly, I had to pull myself from him, for there was a little edge to his kiss and an urgency in the way he held me to him. I thrilled at his passion, but knew Johnny wouldn’t be too far behind us, and I didn’t want to embarrass him or initiate a brotherly lecture on “being careful.”

Kasey’s chin dropped to his chest, and his eyes closed in mock agony. “UUHH” he groaned out. “Three weeks is too long! I’m going to be the one who shatters into a million pieces.” He echoed my words of a moment before.

“We’ll make it. It’s not forever.” I laughed up at him. Pulling me into his arms he kissed me again, hungry like before, and I reluctantly ended it once more, pulling away with my hands linked in his.

His lips turned down at the corners, and his eyebrows curved in his best hang dog expression. He looked wistful as he sighed out his goodbye. I laughed again, delighted by his need for me.

“Maybe we should stay apart until the big day,” I teased him with a helpful smile.

“It seems like forever,” he said quietly as he climbed into the car.

I stepped back and watched him pull out of the gravel drive. I waved and blew silly kisses. “Call me, later!!” I shouted, and he waved his hand out his window, signaling he’d heard me. I didn’t even watch him drive away. I turned and walked into the house, suddenly eager for a shower and my feather pillow. I had no premonition, no inkling that it really would be forever. It was the last time I saw him alive.

13. Requiem

Kasey must have gotten drowsy on his way back in to Nephi. The officers that arrived at the accident said they think he’d seen a deer or swerved into the wrong lane and started to go into the irrigation gully along the side of the road. He’d overcorrected, slammed on his brakes, and flipped his car. Kasey was thrown through the windshield and killed instantly. The car was facing the other direction and upside down when it came to a stop, and my brother was the first person to drive by and see his totaled car. Johnny said he thought we were both in the car because of the way the car was facing, thinking the accident had happened on the way to our house. He said he found Kasey not too far from the car and ran around trying to find me. He couldn’t see into the upside down car because the top was completely caved in. The doors were damaged and he couldn’t get them open. He thought I was inside. Johnny didn’t have a cell phone, and there was nobody on the road at a quarter to six on a Saturday morning. Johnny says he hardly remembers jumping back in his truck and racing home. I had foregone the shower for my bed and awoke to him shouting into the phone. I stumbled down the stairs from the loft and into the kitchen. Johnny saw me and dropped the phone, causing it to swing wildly on its curling cord, and stumbled over to me.