Sunshine Kisses

The email had made her smile and roll her eyes in equal measure.

In contrast to the strained, almost formal relationship she shared with her parents, Erik’s mum and dad positively doted on both him and his older brother. Though Abby knew how quickly that dotage could begin to feel smothering, she also knew Erik adored his family. And Nora meant well. Truly. She just didn’t always understand the concept of boundaries, particularly when it came to her sons.

It had taken Abby all of ten seconds to text her mother that perhaps she’d been hasty in rejecting the holiday (again) and that it might be a fabulous year to take them up on the offer.

At the end of her next email, she had promised to see him there.

Despite the painful circumstances that had borne the emails, they had evolved into something beautiful.

In their time at different universities, they had begun trading weekly missives detailing their exploits: complaining about classes, sharing book and film recommendations, and comparing drama within their respective friendship circles.

When Abby told people about her usual method of communication with her best friend, she was often met with confused expressions and a reminder that texting apps existed. But texting had simply never formed part of their friendship. They’d spent their lives together long before having access to that technology. Even when they had got mobiles, living just down the street from each other meant their texts had never needed to be anything other than perfunctory:

You home?

Yeah.

Be there in five.

So their attempts at texting had never quite managed to soothe the sting of separation. But the emails had become almost an art form, something that felt far more natural to the way they communicated in person: long monologues that allowed for a full outpouring of thoughts that the other could respond to in kind. They both used too many words for their own good, at least around each other. It wasn’t the same as hearing his voice or feeling his presence in the room. But the endless strings of words allowed her to imagine him talking in a way that the short spurts of texts did not.

Abby smiled as she recalled the rich, deep tone of Erik’s speech. She’d always likened it to velvet: mostly smooth and luxurious, but with a rough edge that came out when he was rubbed the wrong way.

The emails continued throughout their undergrad years, and when Erik graduated and began working in far flung corners of the globe with pitiful cell reception, they allowed him to send lengthy enough updates to plug the gaps without access to communication.

Still deep in reminiscence, Abby stared out the window. She had taken this trip and stared at this scenery countless times throughout her life, though she’d always made the journey by car before. This simultaneous familiarity and newness intrigued her as she mused over the strangeness of seeing the golden fields from a new perspective.

It was also the first time she’d taken the trip without Erik at her side. Legend (their mothers) told that the first time Abby and Erik had been bundled into their respective family’s cars for their seaside holiday—at the tender age of nine months—they had both begun screaming half an hour into the three hour drive. Unsure how to soothe them, both families pulled into a nearby service station. As soon as the cars stopped next to each other, cries turned to coos when little eyes met through the windows. After a quick discussion, Abby’s father joined Erik’s dad, Peter, and his big brother, Aleksander, in their car, while Erik was transplanted into the Briars’ car along with his mother. The babies had slept peacefully for the rest of the drive, and no one would dare to suggest splitting them up again in the years that followed.

As they had grown up, they would play I-spy, noses pressed to the side or rear windows, sharing a running commentary of the view, never caring that it rarely changed from year to year.

A mechanical voice announced Abby’s stop, halting her passage down memory lane. She dragged her bags back towards the doors, cursing herself again, and jumped through as soon as they slid open. She rushed through the small country station—somehow not causing any incidents despite her mass of luggage and an alarming number of elderly people just standing there—before coming to a sudden stop at the sight of her best friend framed by the red brick archway of the station’s exit. He leaned casually against the same brown estate car they had spent countless evenings in, driving down the twisty stone streets they had grown up around.

Abby took a moment to drink him in.

Dark blue jeans covered his long legs, ending in scuffed trainers where his feet crossed at the ankle, while a bright white t-shirt skimmed loosely over his chest and shoulders, revealing toned forearms. He looked vibrant, with his tanned skin glowing in the sun.

‘Erik!’

He turned immediately. Reaching her in ten large strides, he engulfed her body in a tight bear hug and spun her around.

‘Hello, Sunshine,’ he said quietly. His voice was like a warm balm soothing any anxieties she might have had about this trip. He planted a soft kiss on her temple before ruffling her hair with his chin and jaw.

‘I can’t believe you still call me that.’ Abby attempted to smooth her blonde curls back down. ‘You gave me that nickname twenty years ago.’

Erik chuckled warmly, and joy exploded in her chest at the sound. ‘Exactly. Why mess with tradition?’ They repeated the same exchange every time they saw each other. ‘Tell you what. I’ll stop calling you that when you stop having lovely golden hair that sparkles in the sun.’

Abby rolled her eyes as he grabbed her bags and shepherded her to the car, but she couldn’t help the grin spreading over her face. Reuniting felt right. She hoped this trip wouldn’t cause the same problem he’d had the year before. Christmas hadn’t been the same without him.

The ancient car came to life with a smooth purr—Peter was nothing if not fastidious about the condition of his baby—and Abby studied Erik’s profile as he pulled out of the parking lot, marvelling at how much he had changed since last June. The two of them rarely exchanged photos, although their mothers often made sure to pass some on.

But pictures had never done Erik justice.

His face was more angular than it had been, the final bits of boyish softness fading to reveal a sharp jawline and carved cheekbones below his clear grey eyes. He’d filled out since she’d last seen him too. Erik had always been athletic, but the defined muscles shifting beneath his skin as he changed gears were new.

‘When did you learn to use a brush?’ Abby asked, reaching up to touch his unusually tidy hair. Early afternoon sun streamed through the windows, sending honey streaking through the thick sand-coloured mass. It was beautifully distracting. ‘You have a hot date tonight or something?’

Erik laughed, grabbing her wrist and pressing his lips to her fingers. ‘Or something. Maybe I just wanted to look nice for you.’ His tone was teasing, but he was too focused on the drive for her to see any lightness in his eyes.