The Band Room

He sat behind me in Algebra advanced class. Every...single...day...torture. He knew where I was ticklish, and spared no mercy as I tried to keep from yelling out. Really, the smile on my face when he tickled me was only a reflex, or so I said. I had to keep a cold heart. I had to show I was cold, I couldn't fall for him, I didnt want more pain after Joshua...Joshua, who I was torn from, who I couldnt say goodbye to, my mentor, my life...torn by evil hands who cared only about greed, only about making people suffer. But...the notes we passed, I held them to my heart as I fell asleep, it was innocent, completely and tottaly. The way he smiled when I turned around to talk to him, the way his beautiful brown and lavender eyes were magnified by his glasses. But he was even more beautiful when the glasses were off.

He was in band, he played the beautifully lulling baritone. He was section leader, he was so proud, I was too. Our junior year was the best, I recall every beautiful detail. How he held his hands in mine, in the one class we had togather since 8th grade, saying how cold they were. His hands, they were always so warm, so soft and gentle. So beautiful...when we were the last ones at his football game, it was pouring down rain, and he kept wiping the water off of my face, I wanted him. I wanted him to hold me, to love me, to kiss me, to have me...but it wasn't to be then. His hands were those of a musician, delicate and long fingers, beautifully sculped. One day, I had to see him, tell him how I felt, so I put my grade at risk and snuck up to the band room. The most magical room in the school, filled with so many beautiful instruments...and he sat there, his back to me, playing the most beautifuly tragic melody I'd ever heard...beautifully tragic, like him, like me. Ill never forget how I walked up to him, and rested my hand on his back. But he kept playing, he knew I was there. He knew my touch, he knew my presence. As his final notes trailed off, I closed my eye to gather up the courage to tell him.

I opened my mouth.

But nothing came out, because he kissed me. I felt as if my soul was set afire, even if only was for the few seconds his lips slowly opened and closed over mine, over and over. Then, as soon as he started, he stoped. He smiled at me, and simply left.

Our senior year...he was even more beautiful. We had been going out all summer, our love stronger than ever. Love...his beautiful love, his beautiful personality.

We were at the last dance. The day before graduation. He took me to his deserted house, and we made love. We finally released the passion that had been built up inside us for 5 years. I drove home, very late that night, so happy. So extremely happy...

Graduation day. I stood in line waiting for my diploma. We were both Validictorians. We had tied, so we were both to give a speech. He went first, so beautiful and elequent...then I went. I dont know if mine sounded as good as his, but he was crying, crying in happiness for MY words...yes. Love. It described it.
We both traded tassles, and class rings. Then, we both decided to drive home separately and meet later.

I waited for 10 hours for a phone call. Finally, I got one. My beautiful, my love, had been critically wounded in a car accident. I rushed to the hospital to see him, and he was barely alive. He had massive internal bleeding, he only had a few minutes left. I was crying my eyes out, but he told me to be quiet.

He pulled out a ring, a beautiful diamond. He asked me to marry him. I said yes...

...then, Jose died.