“What is it?”
“It’s about the film festival. Spring Flick? My film was accepted. I wanted to tell you,” he says.
“That’s incredible, Tristan! Congratulations. I knew it would be.”
Spring Flick is part of the annual Ellensburg Film Festival that takes place at the university. It’s one of the biggest events in town. Tristan and his friends submitted a short film in the high school category. They spent the last six months filming a documentary on Mark Lanegan, the alternative-rock musician from Ellensburg. Sam was a huge fan.
“It’s next month, a few weeks before graduation,” Tristan goes on, running a hand through his hair. “I have an extra ticket. You mentioned you wanted to go last time, if the film was accepted. Did you still want to?”
The word graduation catches me off guard, and I nearly panic. Is it really only two months away? I haven’t even heard from colleges yet. And I’m so behind on school, what if I don’t catch up in time? I become so lost in thought, I forget what Tristan even asked me. I must take too long to respond, because his face flushes, and his voice stammers. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up this soon. You probably have a lot on your mind right now. I should go back in—” He turns toward the store.
“Wait,” I call him back. “Of course. I’ll go.”
“Really?” he asks, suddenly beaming. “I mean, okay. Okay, great. Cool. I’ll tell you more about it soon. And, you know, let me know if you change your mind. That’s cool, too.”
“I’ll be there, Tristan,” I say as I turn to go.
Tristan stands at the door, waving, as I cross the street and disappear around the corner.
* * *
Cherry blossoms fall at my shoes as the bus drops me off at the university entrance. The brick tower of Barge Hall rises behind the trees as I look around. The paths throughout campus are covered with pink and white petals. There is a stream of water that runs beside the library. I cross a bridge to get to the other side. As I cut across the grass, branches drop petals on my hair and shoulders. A small breeze twirls them in the air as I keep walking. When the trees blossom in the spring, central Washington feels like a place from a dream.
The Sakura festival happens once a year, and people from all over Washington come to see it. Sam and I would take the bus here all the time when the weather was warm. It is a beautiful stroll along the university paths. This is the first I’m seeing them this year. I breathe in the scent, and remember the two of us walking together, Sam’s hand in mine.
Sam stops to sniff the air. “This really takes me back…”
“Is it close?” I ask.
He looks at me. “To what?”
“To the cherry blossoms in Japan.”
Sam takes a good look around. “That’s like comparing a lake to the ocean. You know what I mean? It’s not close at all.” He just returned from a trip to Kyoto to visit his grandparents and attend the Sakura festival there. He said it was a family trip …
I fold my arms. “Thanks again for the invitation.”
“I told you.” He laughs as he takes my hands. “We’ll go this summer after graduation. I promise. You’re gonna love it there. It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever seen.”
“Nothing like Ellensburg?”
“Different worlds.”
I smile and kiss his cheek. “I can’t wait.”
* * *
“So how are the blossoms this year?” Sam’s voice over the phone pulls me back.
I called as soon as the paths cleared and it’s only us out here.
“They’re beautiful,” I say. I look up at the trees that line the paths, listening to the stream of water running somewhere up ahead. “But nothing like the ocean, right?” Sam doesn’t answer, but I sense him smiling on the line. “Why did you ask me to come here again?”
“It’s our tradition,” Sam says. “To walk through here every spring, remember? I realized we never got to see them this year. And it made me a little sad. I didn’t want you to think I forgot. So I figured I’d bring you here one more time, while I still can.”
“But you’re not here,” I remind him.
“I know.” Sam sighs. “But pretend I am. Just for a second. Right there, beside you, like before…”
I close my eyes and try to imagine this. A breeze moves across my face but nothing changes. You should have let me come with you last time. This can’t make up for it. “It’s not the same, Sam. Not at all…”