The eternity of now
Here you are, a few meters away from me, bending over the red rose bush. Your dark hair is falling down your perfect body, as usual. That sight of you is perfect--it is right. You are Ogasawara Sachiko, Rosa Chinensis and my onee-sama. I am Fukuzawa Yumi, Rosa Chinensis en bouton, your petite soeur. The truth of one year. And yet, an eternity.
Slowly, you let your eyes wander from the flowers towards me and you smile slightly. I'm delighted. I always am when you look at me this way. It is better than any word. How long will this remain? How long will we be linked this way? How long will I be able to look at you? How long will you be mine? I know that deep down, you are asking yourself the same questions. You'll never ask them aloud though. Yet again, neither will I. But for now, what is the use of words between us? I finally got to understand you, just as you ended up reading in me as in a book. Moreover, we both already have the answer. The dreadful answer. And neither of us wants to concretize it through verbalization.
I take a few step forwards to get closer to you and I smile back. This face is my whole universe right now. It has been my whole universe for months now. I cannot conceive to live without it. What can I do to stop the time?... Time has become my enemy. Our enemy. For every second bringing me closer to you is bringing us closer to the end as well. That is one of the reasons I adore Lillian. People walk slowly here. Time seems to be affecting only trees here. We are sheltered. The outside world won't reach us here. We have our own conventions--our rules. We are not affected by society's conventions yet. We are living in a dream. An intense, peaceful dream.
Just watching you forever would be enough for me. You extend your impeccable hand and stroke away a lock of my hair crossing my cheek. I must be slightly blushing. We are so close right now--away from everything else. We are free. Free to love. Free to live. Free not to think. Free to pretend it is forever. In that room you have no fiancé, no responsibility; and I have no future to build by myself. Here, you are not going to leave me behind. Never. Here, illusions are fine. Are they really mere illusions anyway? It is a fact after all. You are here. I am here. Right now, nothing else matters.
You let your fingers stroll gently along the skin of my face. It won't go any further. If I am being honest, I must admit that I desire you. I am quite sure you do too. But crossing the line would mean to give a shape to what there is between us. And a concrete thing becomes fragile. It has limits. It can--and must--be discussed. Above all, we know it when it ends. I don't want to see you walk away from me. When it happens, I definitely do not want to notice it. May I close my eyes? Will it protect my heart? I know it will not. I keep on hoping that our parting away is going to be imperceptible; that it is going to be so slow, so soft that I won't even notice it. But deep down, I can feel it will be unbearable. Slowness will only extend the pain, dissecting it, making every part of it stronger. And I am scared. And yet, a part of me cannot imagine not to suffer. For you mean everything to me, so I want your departure to be devastating, unforgettable.
I can see the hesitation in your eyes. We should perhaps let all of those considerations aside and enjoy the remaining time. Maybe we should talk. Maybe we should act. Maybe you should kiss me. Maybe I should respond. I guess we should stop fearing the reality and start to change the path lying ahead of us. Is it really that foolish to hope for a common future? And if it is, can't we just be foolish?
A fresh breeze enters the room like a warning, making us both shiver. You withdraw your hand, sighing, and we share a sad, resigned smile. Once again, we have cowered. Once again we have let go of an opportunity. And maybe we will do it over and over again until the breaking point. But maybe we won't. Every time we interact I can feel our bond strengthening, and the tension between us building up, and the chance of us daring breaking the habit growing. And someday, maybe, just maybe, we will break free, pass the gate of the garden for maiden we are living in and confront the unknown together. That is what I want to believe in.
Slowly, we start to walk out of the greenhouse. As we cross the doorway, I stop and look at the light grey sky above us, letting the wind play gently with my hair. It is such an empty sky--a sky we could expect anything from. "What's wrong?", you ask, and I look back at you and smile. "Nothing", I answer, and we resume walking. Back to the usual. Someday we might escape the protective and restrictive watch of Maria-sama. I am looking forward to this dreadful day. Until then, we keep strolling side by side, purely, gracefully, and she's watching over us.
Owari.