Their eyes could not conceal the emotions both felt. Tears flooded down
the contours of their cheeks, over their chins, and dripped slowly onto
their clothes. For two who had always hid their sadness from each other,
it was an unusual occasion. He had always been strong for her, and she
never wanted to unload her burdens upon him. But, this was certainly a
time different from the others. Something unique. Something neither had
experienced before, nor something either had expected would ever happen.
"Happily ever after" had been written in their storybooks since they were
practically toddlers, and neither had any reason to believe that ending was
false. Indeed, their story was a fairytale. But they now realized, not
all fairytales ended happily. Not this one. And sometimes, a perfect wish
will always remain just that – a wish, unfulfilled, and never to be.
-------------------- As the young lady looked into the boy's eyes, memories overflowed. So many years of friendship, so many years of his charm. But as she saw the bright blue eyes, now made pale with a stream of tears, one memory in particular overtook her. And, for a moment, she could not think of anything else.
Blue. How blue was the sky that day? A brilliant blue – not the simple sky blue you see everyday. But a blue that seemed to shout, "Today is a special day – remember it, treasure it, and enjoy it!" A blue that reached into one's heart and exposed the joy within. A blue that chased all but wispy clouds away, and that stole the sun's grandeur. Such was the day that his devotion became real to me. Such was the day that I no longer doubted, and that I started appreciating him for who he was. Such was the day that I let my fears go, the fears that haunted me for as long as I remembered.
"Hey, isn't the sky beautiful today?"
"I was just thinking that! You always seem to be able to read my mind."
"Haha, well, of course! I think I know you better than you know yourself!"
"Of course you do. You're my best friend."
And that's what he was. He was my best friend. But as a woman who had been hurt so many times before, that was all I wanted to see him as. All the things he did for me just made him a more and more wonderful friend to me. But I wouldn't, I couldn't, let him become more. Because I knew I would be hurt again.
As we walked in our park – OUR park, the one of our childhood memories, I felt a rush. I felt as if I was with the most wonderful person, in the most wonderful place, on the most wonderful day. Although I knew better, I still felt that I would be satisfied staying here forever. But forever ends much more quickly than we desire – and it was so that day. My biggest smile, the one he said could charm the stars, turned into an angry, sad frown in an instant. Of them all, I had to see him, the one who hurt me most.
"We have to go."
"Why?"
I didn't respond to his question. I just started angrily walking in a different direction. And I didn't wait for him. My walking soon turned into a trot, as I hastily made my escape. And I don't know how, but before I knew it, I was sitting under our tree – OUR tree, the one of our childhood memories. And he was there with me.
"I saw him. I'm, well, I'm sorry. I know how you feel."
"You couldn't know how I feel – you have no idea. You're just like him, you're just a guy, you're just like him!"
I couldn't believe what I had just said. I didn't mean it. But at the same time, I did mean it. Through everything, how could he be different? Every guy in my past was the same. Their wonderful outsides covered the ugly interior. And even through our friendship, I still saw him as one of them.
My chin turned up, and I glanced as him. His eyes were full of tears. I thought he was going to cry – and I hated to see him cry. He was always so strong for me! But he didn't cry. He smoothed out his face and looked at me with caring, loving eyes.
And I knew. I knew that the feelings I had just felt and said were not me. They weren't my heart. They were my reaction. They were my past. They were my history. But they were not my heart. And finally, I saw him. I saw a young man that sacrificed, that would give everything for me. One who loved me, and through all the pain I caused through my words, would still be strong, even if inside he was dying. I realized now that I truly knew him, inside and out. And I finally realized how my heart felt.
I put my hand softly on the back of his neck, and drew his face close to mine.
As I closed my eyes, I felt him tug away.
"Why?"
"Because I love you."
I didn't know what his comment meant at the time. I only knew that I was confused, and a bit hurt. But later on, I finally learned what it meant. He loved me too much to take advantage of an emotional situation like this. He loved me too much to start something when I wasn't ready. And he loved me too much to hurry our first kiss. I'm glad we waited.
------------------- The boy looked back at the girl, deeply gazing at her clouded brown eyes, still beautiful through all the weeping. His mind was filled with all the beautiful times they spent together. But as he looked into those wonderful brown eyes, one beautiful time rose out from the other memories. He loved that moment – it reminded him of who she really was.
Brown. How brown was the color of everything that day? The earth, the grass, the roads, the sidewalk – all was brown. Mud covered the world, it seemed. And I was devastated. The perfect night was quickly fading into a nightmare.
Tonight was the night. You know that whisper in your ear? The one that tells you, "This is right." Some people call it an angel, some call it a figment of an overactive imagination – I believe otherwise. I always tried to follow that voice – and I would follow it again.
Dinner, gift, and a walk in the park to that tree, the tree she calls OUR tree. It's the tree we climbed in, engraved on, and ran around as children. It was the tree that became our secret meeting place as teenagers. It was the tree where we revealed our feelings for each other. And it would now be the tree where we would have our first kiss.
But apparently, tonight would not be the night. Dinner was a disaster. A misplaced reservation, a rude waiter, bad food, and a stained dress. The gift was likewise a washout. The beautiful earrings I gave her reminded her of a pair given her once by a different boy. She loved them because I gave them to her. But she hated them because of her past – I could see it in her yes, and hear it in her voice.
And when we exited the restaurant, we found the ground wet and the heavens exploding in millions of rivulets of rain. It seemed there would be no walk in the park.
I was confused. I thought this was supposed to be "right." And more than that, I was sad. Typically, she saw through my tough outside, and right into the place that matters most.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Whatever. You know that won't fly with me. Now please, please, tell me what's wrong."
"Okay, okay. Well, tonight was supposed to be special. And it hasn't been. And even now, I wanted us to walk in our park, but we can't."
"Who says we can't?"
"Well, the rain and mud, maybe?"
"We have an umbrella! Let's go!"
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely." And with that final word, she grabbed my hand and we walked the block and a half to our park. And for a split-second, my hopes grew. But once again, they faded as we strolled through the muddy, damp grass.
"My heel. It keeps getting sinking into the ground."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's not your fault, don't worry!"
"Well, let me help you." And as I reached for her hand, I did it. It was like in a sappy movie, or a bad story. I slipped in the mud, and fell into it, dragging her down on top of me.
"Are you okay?"
I didn't respond. I was angry at my carelessness and furious with God. This wasn't a magical moment. It was becoming one of the worst experiences of my life. As I turned my hidden face towards her's, I heard a strange sound. In the midst of heavy rain and copious mud, her voice, like an angel's in a void, was laughing. But my face did not change. The melancholy could not be erased.
She stopped laughing, and looked back at me. And she knew. She always knew what I was thinking. And she knew now.
"Tonight was a perfect night." She continued, looking into my puzzled face, "Because I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." She paused. "And I wouldn't want to be with anyone else."
And I knew then, that she was right. And that I felt the same. And that, yes, tonight was the perfect night. And everything was right.
I took my blackened hand and put it behind her head. The wet silt matted her hair and stuck the strands together. But she didn't care. She took a muddy hand and placed it lightly on my chest. And as I drew her lips towards mine, I knew that I would never let her go.
------------------- The two young lovers released each other's hands. They gave one another a final look, then turned around to go their separate ways. There was no final hug, no final kiss, not even a final word of "farewell." Their adoration ran far deeper than that. They did not need to say goodbye in any of those ways. In each of their hearts, they knew that a last demonstration of emotion would just cheapen this moment. For they knew each other intimately, like few lovers do. And they knew a final goodbye at this time was not a goodbye, for they could not let each other go for good. And as they walked away, the boy and girl carried an ample piece of each other, a piece that they would never let go of. Wherever their lives would lead, each would, in some way, forever follow the other.
-------------------- As the young lady looked into the boy's eyes, memories overflowed. So many years of friendship, so many years of his charm. But as she saw the bright blue eyes, now made pale with a stream of tears, one memory in particular overtook her. And, for a moment, she could not think of anything else.
Blue. How blue was the sky that day? A brilliant blue – not the simple sky blue you see everyday. But a blue that seemed to shout, "Today is a special day – remember it, treasure it, and enjoy it!" A blue that reached into one's heart and exposed the joy within. A blue that chased all but wispy clouds away, and that stole the sun's grandeur. Such was the day that his devotion became real to me. Such was the day that I no longer doubted, and that I started appreciating him for who he was. Such was the day that I let my fears go, the fears that haunted me for as long as I remembered.
"Hey, isn't the sky beautiful today?"
"I was just thinking that! You always seem to be able to read my mind."
"Haha, well, of course! I think I know you better than you know yourself!"
"Of course you do. You're my best friend."
And that's what he was. He was my best friend. But as a woman who had been hurt so many times before, that was all I wanted to see him as. All the things he did for me just made him a more and more wonderful friend to me. But I wouldn't, I couldn't, let him become more. Because I knew I would be hurt again.
As we walked in our park – OUR park, the one of our childhood memories, I felt a rush. I felt as if I was with the most wonderful person, in the most wonderful place, on the most wonderful day. Although I knew better, I still felt that I would be satisfied staying here forever. But forever ends much more quickly than we desire – and it was so that day. My biggest smile, the one he said could charm the stars, turned into an angry, sad frown in an instant. Of them all, I had to see him, the one who hurt me most.
"We have to go."
"Why?"
I didn't respond to his question. I just started angrily walking in a different direction. And I didn't wait for him. My walking soon turned into a trot, as I hastily made my escape. And I don't know how, but before I knew it, I was sitting under our tree – OUR tree, the one of our childhood memories. And he was there with me.
"I saw him. I'm, well, I'm sorry. I know how you feel."
"You couldn't know how I feel – you have no idea. You're just like him, you're just a guy, you're just like him!"
I couldn't believe what I had just said. I didn't mean it. But at the same time, I did mean it. Through everything, how could he be different? Every guy in my past was the same. Their wonderful outsides covered the ugly interior. And even through our friendship, I still saw him as one of them.
My chin turned up, and I glanced as him. His eyes were full of tears. I thought he was going to cry – and I hated to see him cry. He was always so strong for me! But he didn't cry. He smoothed out his face and looked at me with caring, loving eyes.
And I knew. I knew that the feelings I had just felt and said were not me. They weren't my heart. They were my reaction. They were my past. They were my history. But they were not my heart. And finally, I saw him. I saw a young man that sacrificed, that would give everything for me. One who loved me, and through all the pain I caused through my words, would still be strong, even if inside he was dying. I realized now that I truly knew him, inside and out. And I finally realized how my heart felt.
I put my hand softly on the back of his neck, and drew his face close to mine.
As I closed my eyes, I felt him tug away.
"Why?"
"Because I love you."
I didn't know what his comment meant at the time. I only knew that I was confused, and a bit hurt. But later on, I finally learned what it meant. He loved me too much to take advantage of an emotional situation like this. He loved me too much to start something when I wasn't ready. And he loved me too much to hurry our first kiss. I'm glad we waited.
------------------- The boy looked back at the girl, deeply gazing at her clouded brown eyes, still beautiful through all the weeping. His mind was filled with all the beautiful times they spent together. But as he looked into those wonderful brown eyes, one beautiful time rose out from the other memories. He loved that moment – it reminded him of who she really was.
Brown. How brown was the color of everything that day? The earth, the grass, the roads, the sidewalk – all was brown. Mud covered the world, it seemed. And I was devastated. The perfect night was quickly fading into a nightmare.
Tonight was the night. You know that whisper in your ear? The one that tells you, "This is right." Some people call it an angel, some call it a figment of an overactive imagination – I believe otherwise. I always tried to follow that voice – and I would follow it again.
Dinner, gift, and a walk in the park to that tree, the tree she calls OUR tree. It's the tree we climbed in, engraved on, and ran around as children. It was the tree that became our secret meeting place as teenagers. It was the tree where we revealed our feelings for each other. And it would now be the tree where we would have our first kiss.
But apparently, tonight would not be the night. Dinner was a disaster. A misplaced reservation, a rude waiter, bad food, and a stained dress. The gift was likewise a washout. The beautiful earrings I gave her reminded her of a pair given her once by a different boy. She loved them because I gave them to her. But she hated them because of her past – I could see it in her yes, and hear it in her voice.
And when we exited the restaurant, we found the ground wet and the heavens exploding in millions of rivulets of rain. It seemed there would be no walk in the park.
I was confused. I thought this was supposed to be "right." And more than that, I was sad. Typically, she saw through my tough outside, and right into the place that matters most.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Whatever. You know that won't fly with me. Now please, please, tell me what's wrong."
"Okay, okay. Well, tonight was supposed to be special. And it hasn't been. And even now, I wanted us to walk in our park, but we can't."
"Who says we can't?"
"Well, the rain and mud, maybe?"
"We have an umbrella! Let's go!"
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely." And with that final word, she grabbed my hand and we walked the block and a half to our park. And for a split-second, my hopes grew. But once again, they faded as we strolled through the muddy, damp grass.
"My heel. It keeps getting sinking into the ground."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's not your fault, don't worry!"
"Well, let me help you." And as I reached for her hand, I did it. It was like in a sappy movie, or a bad story. I slipped in the mud, and fell into it, dragging her down on top of me.
"Are you okay?"
I didn't respond. I was angry at my carelessness and furious with God. This wasn't a magical moment. It was becoming one of the worst experiences of my life. As I turned my hidden face towards her's, I heard a strange sound. In the midst of heavy rain and copious mud, her voice, like an angel's in a void, was laughing. But my face did not change. The melancholy could not be erased.
She stopped laughing, and looked back at me. And she knew. She always knew what I was thinking. And she knew now.
"Tonight was a perfect night." She continued, looking into my puzzled face, "Because I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." She paused. "And I wouldn't want to be with anyone else."
And I knew then, that she was right. And that I felt the same. And that, yes, tonight was the perfect night. And everything was right.
I took my blackened hand and put it behind her head. The wet silt matted her hair and stuck the strands together. But she didn't care. She took a muddy hand and placed it lightly on my chest. And as I drew her lips towards mine, I knew that I would never let her go.
------------------- The two young lovers released each other's hands. They gave one another a final look, then turned around to go their separate ways. There was no final hug, no final kiss, not even a final word of "farewell." Their adoration ran far deeper than that. They did not need to say goodbye in any of those ways. In each of their hearts, they knew that a last demonstration of emotion would just cheapen this moment. For they knew each other intimately, like few lovers do. And they knew a final goodbye at this time was not a goodbye, for they could not let each other go for good. And as they walked away, the boy and girl carried an ample piece of each other, a piece that they would never let go of. Wherever their lives would lead, each would, in some way, forever follow the other.