By their senior year of high school, Ephraim knew that Claire was the one for him. They were Ephraim and Claire. Claire and Ephraim. It was never one without the other. His family had already become entwined with hers. Claire and her uncle Daniel had spent the last two Thanksgivings and Christmases at the Bradshaw’s', and they had cemented plans for a joint graduation celebration. There had been shared summer vacations, and except for his kid sister, his parents had already embraced Claire as one of their own. Not that Ephraim hadn't tried some coaxing with Ellie.

"Come on, Ellie. Be nice. Don't you want a big sister?"

"She's not my sister!"

The Bradshaws were just as present at Claire's piano recitals as they were at Ephraim's football games and Ellie's school plays. His mother even had a disc of "Claire's Greatest Hits" alongside his and Ellie's performances. And as much as Ellie seemed to resist Claire's warmth and affection, she had fallen asleep in Claire's arms during one of Ephraim's games on more than a few occasions. For all her bravado, Ephraim knew that deep down, Ellie loved Claire just as much as their parents did.

It only reaffirmed what he knew to be true. He and Claire were perfect for each other. And even his parents could see it. He'd overheard them say nearly as much on the night of the homecoming game.

They'd all piled into the family sedan after the game; Ephraim, Ellie, and Claire squeezed into the back seat, with little Ellie wedged between them. Micah had been visibly disappointed when Ephraim told her he wouldn't be going to the house party that night. His shoulder was bruised and swollen from the last tackle by a towering linebacker from the opposing team, and all he wanted to do was pass out on his bed until morning. He got no complaints from Claire. She never wanted to go in the first place. Micah had no warm feelings of friendship for Claire, and the feeling was mutual.

"You're so lame, bro. Just remember to bring your sorry ass to the lake tomorrow."

Mateo, ever the wordsmith, was always one to shift in the direction of the wind.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Claire had whispered over Ellie's sleeping head as the car pulled out of the school's parking lot. Just moments after being buckled into place, Ellie's head had tilted down against her own chest, collapsing into sleep after being up so long past her bedtime.

"Nah, we're not missing out on anything," he whispered back.

"You don't have to skip out on fun just because I'm not going."

"I'm having fun with you right now."

"Lies," she scoffed softly. "You're practically falling asleep."

"Yeah, that too."

By the time they hit the freeway, Claire's eyes were already closed, and Ephraim was only beginning to drift away, exhaustion weighing his eyelids down. Sleep had already claimed him when the distinct soft click of the radio jarred him awake; Closing his eyes, he heard his parents whispering in the front seat.

"It would be perfect if they ended up together, don't you think?" his mother had uttered to his father as he steered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. "I think Abel and Isa would be happy knowing that their little girl was not alone. She has Daniel, but he's a bachelor, and he's got no other kin. That girl needs more family."

Ephraim hadn't heard his father's reply, but from his intonation he seemed to be agreeing. When he opened his eyes and turned to look at Claire, he could see that she was awake, and she'd heard it too. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and he wondered if maybe, she was finally beginning to see it. Their eyes met and he smiled. She seemed to be embarrassed as she looked away.

In the days that followed Ephraim couldn't help but wonder why they weren't together yet after all this time. He liked her. More than liked her. He'd been in love with her for years, and she must've known that. They'd gone to Junior Prom together the year before, and Claire had asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance just last week. There wasn't anything they didn't do together. Everyone else could see it too.

"It's so sickening how you two are always attached at the hip," Micah had remarked after Ephraim declined her invitation to their school dance, informing her that he and Claire were already going together.

"What's your problem?"

"You are. It's like you're standing so close that you can't even see the big picture, and it pisses me off. Jesus! You don't even know..."

He caught a slight quiver in her voice as her words trailed off. Micah had never looked so stricken with anger, shaking as she was, and Ephraim never did figure out why. Not that it mattered. All he saw was the dream; a white picket fence and his pretty blue-eyed girl waiting for him at the gate, heart in hand, as he pulled up the drive. Not once did that dream include Mateo's insecure and overbearing sister, or any other girl for that matter.

The world was his for the taking; local golden boy, privileged with looks, athleticism, and just enough book smarts to earn him the esteem of his teachers and fellow classmates, especially the girls. He never imagined how easily it could all go up in smoke.

~X~

"What are you talking about? She's not like that, man."

Ephraim wanted to take a swing at Mateo. His friend's words were like a kick to the teeth, one that he was not expecting. It was not like his friend to run his mouth off with lies, but what he'd said had been so utterly insane that a lie was the only thing it could possibly be. Clenching his fists, he walked off before Mateo could say another word, but his best friend was persistent and quickly fell into step beside him.

"Look Ephraim, I'm telling you what I saw. I wouldn't joke about this." Mateo insisted solemnly.

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Ephraim laughed, shaking his head as he came to a stop.

"Oh, please. You're honestly telling me that you happened to be in the girl's locker room?" Ephraim replied, thrusting his index finger into Mateo's chest. "Now you're a perv that gets off on secretly watching our friends undress for P.E.?" Mateo's eyes wavered at the implication, and he looked away.

"I knew you were messing with me," Ephraim went on. "It's such an obvious lie."

"Fine, I lied," Mateo admitted, throwing up his hands. "I was never in the girl's locker room, and I didn't see a damn thing. But that doesn't mean it isn't true."

"You know, you're really starting to piss me off." Ephraim peered in Mateo's face, as if searching him for answers. "Micah put you up to this, didn't she?" He finally surmised. "She put this asinine idea in your head about Claire just because I wouldn't go to the dance with her as her consolation date."

He paused, waiting for Mateo to confirm his conclusion, but when his friend didn't respond, Ephraim drove his point home by adding, "You know I'm right."

Mateo sighed. "You have such a big head sometimes. That's why I wanted it to come from me, ‘cuz I knew you were never gonna believe her. But she saw them. And that gossip, Jasmine, saw it too. It probably won't be long before the rest of the school gets wind of it."

This time it was Mateo's turn to leave. Flipping his backpack over his shoulder, Mateo walked off to his next class, but Ephraim couldn't move. His legs were fixed to the ground, bound like a bronze statue. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore, but it felt like his dream was ending.

~X~

Ephraim could have let her go. There's a lot of things he could have done, but he was seventeen and his small and fragile world revolved around him. Selflessness would not come to define him for another ten years, so he clung on, kicking and screaming like the child that he still was. From the moment that Claire first took his hand four years ago, Ephraim had begun to map out their future together. He could see it as clearly as the constellations in the sky. His future was the night canvass, and Claire was his North Star. And nothing would convince him otherwise, not even her.

He had expected her to deny it and expose it for the lie that he had hoped it to be. But as soon as he spilled what Mateo had told him, Claire crumbled. The wild alarm in her eyes, and the guilt exuding from her like smoke from an invisible fire spoke volumes.

"You're not like that! You can't be!" he bellowed, and she winced. Momentarily stricken by how small she seemed, he drew back his voice. "It would ruin everything." he went on. "With us. With our families."

"I'm not trying to hurt anyone-"

"But you are!" he cut her off. "My parents love you. You're already family to them and you're wrecking it!"

"I don't mean to. I love them. And you. You're everything to me. You know that. Your family means the world to me."

"But you don't love love me, do you? Like someone you want to be with."

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but the sorrow in her eyes gave him her answer.

"Do this and it all ends," he said before she could respond. "You, me. Our families. We're done."

He was hurting her, and he knew it too. He could see it in her eyes. But she needed to understand what she was costing them.

"You can't mean that," she uttered, reaching for his arm.

Ephraim pulled away and took a step back.

"You have to choose," he insisted. "It's all or nothing. You can't have it both ways," Ephraim's voice cracked and his eyes stung. He was breaking. His anger and resentment had been enough to hold him together, but as those feelings left him, only the pain of losing her remained.

"I've loved you," he confessed, his voice shaking now. "You must know that. And I still love you, but I can't have you in my life if you can't love me back. So you have to choose. You just have to."

He waited for her answer, and for the first time since they'd known each other, he was truly afraid of what she might say. There was a part of him that wanted to take it all back and play it off as a tasteless joke. He'd say anything, as long as he didn't lose her.

Claire hung her head down and stared intensely into her hands, cupping them anxiously, and Ephraim imagined that she was looking into a cup of tea leaves, reading his fortune for a future that might never come.

"If those are the only choices," she finally answered, her words slow and deliberate, "if choosing wrong means that I lose us and our families, then... I choose you."

~X~

"Ephraim, please don't tell dad."

Ellie's voice persisted in his head, even after the six-pack bottles of Coronas he'd torn into. He couldn't tell Mateo what he'd walked into without breaking down into a sobbing mess, let alone his own father.

"They betrayed me," was all he could say, hiding his wet face in his hands while Mateo gently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and moved the opened beer bottle out of Ephraim's reach.

It had taken him nearly an hour to get to his friend's place by foot. Ephraim had been so flustered after he'd left his house, after Ellie had begged him not to say anything to their father, that he'd angrily hurled his car keys onto the neighbor's roof. It was a stupid move, and he should have thought it through, but he'd been too blinded to see it.

Shortly after, Mateo set him up with a pillow and blankets in the living room, and some toiletries and a bath towel in the bathroom. Ephraim didn't say much after. Mateo seemed to already know, and he wondered if Ellie had called his friend and told him the whole story. He didn't go back home for six days, spending his nights on his best friend's couch, watching football and avoiding all talk of his wife and sister.

On the sixth night, his father and aunt came to take him home. Aunt Patrice wrapped her arms around him and called him her baby boy, and his father nodded at him silently. Claire had moved out of the house, his aunt had explained, and Ellie was staying with Gavin for the time being, waiting for a dorm room to become available on campus. He barely spoke on the ride home. The closer they got to the house, the harder it was to push back his memories of that day, and for the moment he needed only to forget.

Ephraim was surprisingly numb when they walked into the house. He'd expected a mess, but it was surprisingly pristine, and he wondered if his aunt had taken the time to stop by and fix it up. He was almost certain she had. Things were missing that belonged to his wife, pictures on the walls, books on the shelves, and her collection of glass snowflake figurines. Instead, they'd been replaced and rearranged to remove the emptiness that had been left behind. Their wedding picture was still over the mantle. She hadn't bothered to take that one. To an outsider looking in, his home had all the appearances of a happy one. It wasn't until he made it to their bedroom that it finally sunk in just how final their separation was.

Claire had emptied the drawers of all her underthings, and her half of their shared closet space had been cleared of everything except for three mangled wire hangers. She was gone. And all her things with her.

Ephraim sat on the corner of their bed and stared at his cupped hands, wondering how he could possibly get through the next few nights alone in their house. In spite of what had to come to pass, he still couldn't imagine a future without her. Or any kind of future at all.