There were times, in those early years, when I knew he was physically in the same space that I was in, but he was always just out of my view, my friend's phantom brother who I heard so much about but rarely caught a glimpse of.
The first time I remember him speaking directly to me was on the day of Ducky's wedding, nearly eight years ago. A bunch of us, Mush included, were mingling together after the reception was over. One of the girls was talking about her boyfriend being a little older than she was, and I flippantly replied, "Well, you don't want to date someone your own age anyway. They say boys mature slower than girls, so a few years older means he would be at your level."
And from across the room, Mush looked at me and, without smiling, said, "I find that remark to be extremely offensive."
I felt my heart drop all the way down to my feet. Nothing else was said but I thought from that day forward that Mush really did not like me.
And that bothered me.
Flash forward two years. It was after Scott's funeral, and the whole family went to the lake for a week, to get away. It was difficult for everyone, obviously, and I was struggling with the fact that in situations like this, I would normally have Scott to keep company with.
But he was gone.
I wasn't the only one who was alone, though. With all bedrooms in the cabin occupied, me and my two year old were relegated to a pullout couch in the family room. On the floor a few feet away slept Mush. My anxiety about that was through the roof. He already didn't like me, and I was certain he wasn't going to like me any more by sleeping on the floor in the same room as me and my toddler, who was unfortunately struck with a stomach bug our first night there. Things, it seemed, could hardly be worse.
Then one night, it happened that everyone else had gone to bed except Mush and me. I don't remember how we started talking, but we stayed up until the very wee hours drinking beer and orange juice on the front porch of the cabin, and I hung onto his every word. I'd long heard what a cool guy he was, and by an impossibly heartbreaking circumstance, I got to finally see it for myself. He was smart and engaging, sincere and thoughtful. It sparked something undefinable in my heart for him, a fondness I couldn't explain. From that day forward, I leapt at any chance to talk to him, especially those late night conversations, just us two.
I locked those moments away in my heart, little treasures I was sure only meant something to me.
Life turned dark for a time. I didn't see Mush for nearly four years because I stopped visiting with the family. When I would think of them, I would think of him, and wonder how he was. It was a surprise to myself how much I felt for him, without really knowing why.
Then, in the Fall of last year, something extraordinary happened. Ducky was talking to me about finally being able to pursue my dreams, particularly the one of living in the valley (which had long been a dream of mine). She casually mentioned Mush...
Time stopped. The dormant embers of feeling I had locked away suddenly ignited an ardent desire to make him mine.
And so I have, with little effort, because it turns out that the same moment I understood that he meant something, however undefinable, to me, was the exact moment he felt the same way.
Nearly six years later, that undefinable and ne'er explored feeling has turned out to be love.
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