I don't really remember what it was like the day we first met. It was all a blur of hormonal teenage rage, and catty, superficial shallowness.
A pretty spoilt girl like me, and a well mannered nerd... which he still his to be honest... You just knew it wasn't meant to be.
But that was then, and this was now. I've got an idea of how it happened but I'm still up in the air. I live my life, and wonder: How? Why?
I suppose the only answer is something stereotypical like "love" or "good karma" although the latter I really am pretty sure I don't deserve.
Forgiveness? Yeah maybe. All i know is I am so... grateful.
There I said it! I'm really grateful. He loves me, and puts up with my high maintenance and my wild tantrums, and no matter how much I mess up, it's like he's the all knowing Buddha or something, and can just eternally stand the human incarnation of all the vices in the world.
I'm like Pandora's box, but with all of it's contents still inside me, weighing me down with the baggage but he doesn't care. He stays by my side, and waters my weeds, where the flowers used to grow and can say he's glad that anything can grow there at all.
It's... It's kind of like how my parents lived. But that makes me feel so bad... so guilty. To recall how my mother always used to just take my father's anger and rage, and somehow manage to stay by his side and see some kind of invisible good in him, even when things seemed below low.
He's like my mother and I'm like my father. Great example you set for me there guys. But I refuse to let it stay that way. I will change. Not just for him, to never let him suffer like my mother did, but also for me to be a better person. To know that I can trust people and that they feel they can trust me.
It's time for a real change, and then from there I can feel that I've truly been 'forgiven'.
Sitting back in her chair, the fair woman of 23 stared at the clock hanging on the wall, and took note she was up later than usual.
She closed her laptop and sighed, wondering where in the world she had gotten the urge to write that cheesy, sappy, little poetic passage.
Was it some kind of over-exaggerated attempt to prepare her new years resolution? Probably.
She stood up and wandered around her new flat, the smell of the people nextdoor's dinner making her hungry, but she'd spent most of her money she had rationed on the cab fare it took to get from his house to hers.
She and Kentin had been 'seeing' each other for about a year now, and she marvelled how time had flown. The second time the truly 'met' she remembered more than anything.
That day she arrived in France, convinced that she'd been accepted into some reality television series, only to find out that her audition she sent in had been rejected by the real thing, and her details got placed in the hands of some con people by mistake.
She had left everything she had in America and came to a strange country just to be stood up, with no money for accommodation and only enough for food, and water for about a week.
She was lost, spoke no French, and was devastated. She couldn't contact home since she didn't know the international phone codes, and felt like a complete loser... she was nearly done for.
after five days, so long ago that year, she was nearly out of hope. her phone was going to die soon and she marvelled at how long it had lasted, a picture of her and her brother that she'd forced him to take still there on the screen reminding her that somewhere someone cared about her, but even that thought she began to doubt.
with nothing to do and nowhere to go she realised how alone she was, and how this probably could have been avoided. Or even if not, would she have had as much stress or worry or regret? If she had been better, if she had done less horrible things, would this not have happened to her? If she were to die here in this strange country, and never be found, who would actually miss her?
these thoughts and more flew about in her mind, and haunted her...
She couldn't remember much else from that fateful week aside from that afternoon, walking to her camp out in a local park, with a plastic cup of water from a public dispenser, she heard someone talking and at first ignored it's loudness and cheeriness.
Then it drew closer. She remembered hearing words in her language and her heart stopped.
Desperately she followed the voice, who was seemingly talking to himself, perhaps on a phone?
She began searching for people on mobile phones, and then finally she spotted him.
The odd one out of the crowd, he was wearing a military uniform, and had four or five other men in uniform with him, but they were all talking in french or some other language, or not talking at all.
He was taller than two of them, and had this amazing brown hair, despite being cut back harshly to flow with his attire, and his large, but partially lidded green eyes glistening like the grass-on-the-other side that she had longed so much to be in, to look at, to touch.
Before she knew it, like some kind of creepy stalker, she had walked right up to him and then as soon as their eyes connected, him still on the phone to whoever, she fell into him and began sobbing, holding his chest close to her face and begging unintelligible things.
He faltered and then ended his conversation, to his father apparently, and then gently soothing her, and prying her away, she heard the first clear words of English spoken in four days:
"Pardon me, do you speak English miss?" He said, a meduim toned voice, still youthful sounding as though never aged with time, and a tint of true concern in his voice.
She nodded unable to speak.
Thanks to him, his friends from the force, and his mobile phone she was able to contact her parents, her phone had died, and with his help she was able to afford to go back home but it wouldn't happen for a good month or two, and with help from her parents he negotiated that the military camp which was here for training would look after her until they could get something sorted out.
Her temporary VISA wasn't going to expire any time soon, so it didn't matter that she was here. Her parents to her amazement said she should stay in France and just be on 'holiday' for a while. They would wire money into her account and she could have the men helping her show her how to get the money exchanged.
It was on the day they did this that she realised who he was.
"You seem to know me... But I..." she muttered nervously as they left the city centre.
"Yeah, well it's hard to forget a girl like you, gorgeous." he smiled.
She blushed but acted annoyed at his little nickname for her, "Stop calling me that, you pig! you're making our military look stupid!" she scolded.
He looked hurt at first but then smiled and said, "You know, sticks and stones can break my bones, and trust me I know how that feels, but no matter how many little words you shoot my way I can take them like a true soldier." He saluted her mockingly, playfully.
she blushed again. Looking down she sighed and leant in closer to him.
"Well... you get to call me names, but you haven't even told me yours. I've only been here two days with you now." she muttered.
She acknowledged she shouldn't be insulting someone who was her ultimate saviour.
He chuckled and tried to refrain from grabbing her hand, she noticed and awkwardly tucked her own behind her back.
"You won't believe me if I told you, cookie." He said.
"Cookie?! what kind of nickna-" She was cut off when an oatmeal-raisin cookie found it's way in front of her. She looked at him, worried for his sanity for a minute and it was then when it hit her.
The hair, the eyes, the manners and the voice... even the unevenly distributed freckles on his face which were more to the left than the right, and the evidence of clear eye contacts surrounding those partially lidded but open and kind green, grassy eyes.
"Call me Kentin." He smiled, laughing as the look of realisation crossed her face.
She took the cookie gingerly, and shoved it into her mouth to choke out the sobs. She had begun foolishly crying again. It was him, Ken...
She had been so cruel and harsh to him in school... even after he came back, she was too shallow and selfish to give him a chance.
"Why?" She asked.
"Why what?" He nearly placed an arm around her on the bus as they travelled back to their temp. base where they had their training camp going on.
"Why are you helping me? After all that I did to you?" she cried.
Ken took a good look at her and then resigning to his desire to hold her closer he said in a soft voice, "Because... I forgive you. You're forgiven."
She let it all go right then and there. Crying into his shoulder she held him back.
Back to the present, glancing at their photos on the wall, and the new picture she had on her same old phone, she wished he could stay longer here with her, now that her permanent residency was all worked out.
He had been told he was needed in the war though and would be leaving in less than a week now, and today had been their last day together until his return.
She couldn't hold back a choking sob as she dropped onto the bed and curled up in the spot he had so many a time shared in the past week since she had moved in.
He had promised he wasn't doing some huge-big-important-major-deadly kind of mission, he was just being put in action for the first time, and it was probably going to end well.
She only wished she could be as optimistic.
Thoughts again ran through her mind about whether or not she deserved his help... would he trust she missed him? Know that she was being true to him while he was gone?
How could he trust a girl like her?
A buzz from her phone answered her question:
"Hey gorgeous, my spider senses tell me you're doubting my love for you again. ;P Don't worry, just because not a lot of people trust you doesn't mean no one will, and I'm one of the ones who do. Love you so much, and leave me some cookies for when I get back"
She sighed and smiled at the text and then replied back:
Shut up stupid! I'm not even worrying about you! Don't be ridiculous. I ate the last cookie, so I'll be nice and fat for you when you get home. Spider Senses? really? Love~ Amber XoXoXo
And then content just a bit more, she closed her eyes, curled up against a pillow, and then imagining it was him, she eased herself to sleep.