Where the Heart Is

I was six years old when I got engaged to Micah Sasaki. It was during coffee hour at church, when the adults were busy in the fellowship hall, eating banana bread and gossiping and letting the kids run wild on the front lawn. We were playing Sardines. I found Micah under the lilac bushes by the steps and we huddled together, waiting to be found. We held hands and giggled quietly each time we heard footsteps and heavy breathing as someone ran past.
We waited like that for a long time, and then, out of the blue, Micah whispered, “I love you, Rachel.” His breath smelled like bananas.
He squeezed my hand, and my small heart thumped in my chest as if it were a hummingbird trapped inside.
“Do you want to marry me?” he asked. “Yes!” I said without hesitation.
He was my first and best friend, and my favorite neighbor. We liked almost all the same games and even the same food. Marriage made perfect sense.
“Move over!” Nadia Collins said, interrupting our engagement.
Micah and I smiled at each other and squished even closer together. The lilac bushes were in full bloom, and the smell of the blossoms engulfed us each time someone jostled the branches.
Cole Jenkins found us next. Then a few others, and then the game was over. We all climbed out from under the bushes, but before we went back inside, Micah gave me a lilac and kissed me on the cheek. Then we found our parents and told them the news.
They laughed and said, “How sweet,” as if it were a silly joke.
Micah got mad and stomped off, which only made the grown-ups laugh harder.
I found Micah back under the lilac bushes, red-faced. “They don’t know anything,” I told him.
“We’ll always be together,” he said. “Right?”
I climbed under the branches and sat next to him and held his hand again. “Always,” I said. We sat like that until our parents came and found us and apologized for being insensitive.
Even though that was six years ago, sometimes one of our parents will bring it up, asking us in a jokey kind of way how the wedding plans are going. Micah always blushes and smiles awkwardly, and maybe even a little hopefully. But more and more, I’m filled with guilt. Because deep down, as much as I love Micah, I know it will never happen.