The
Affair IV: She Walks In Beauty
She
was probably the only woman I could ever love. As presumptuous and
ludicrous as this may sound, its distance from the truth would be
about as close as my heart is to my ribcage, the same heart that has
learnt to recognise her, and beat for her.
Never
in a million years would I have thought myself a romantic. But
something in her reminds me of a symphony. Have you ever heard an
instrument playing solo, sounding so lost, so alone all by itself?
Then another instrument joined in, they have a duet, and somehow,
they don't sound so lost anymore? And once more, another and another
instrument added themselves to the piece, weaving a veil so thick, so
peaceful, so enchanting that you find yourself wanting to fall right
there and then if only the music could be played forever?
She. She's my
symphony.
In
my world, there was only one instrument. Only me. Loneliness held no
meaning to me because without any companions before, how would you
ever know what you're missing?
I
never learnt until then.
The
wood shavings fell onto the floor piece by piece, floating like a
leaf through the wind, if only I would look at it. But I didn't. I
was too intent on the piece of wood in my hand. It was coming to life
and I would not stop until it has found its potential, until it has
become what it was meant to be in my hands.
Slowly,
a nose took shape, then a forehead, and some hair, it was coming to
life in these callused fingers of mine and I could not stop the vague
sense of pride that was bubbling in me.
Staring
out at the sunset that was bleeding hues of red all over the land, I
allowed my mind to drift freely. Today was already coming to an end,
and there was no reason for me to reminisce nor lament. Everyday was
the same to me. Turning my attention back to the wood in my hands, I
realised that it was starting to look dimly like someone I knew. It
had to be a she for no one in school was allowed to have long hair,
despite the fact that the figure in my hands had a bow-tie.
But I didn't
allow myself to ponder on that. I had to continue. Everytime I start
carving, nothing else comes to mind. All I can see is the brown block
in my hand, and my fingers deftly creating shape from nothing. Not
even my mind is at work. Like musicians who play from the heart, not
thinking about the melodies that their soul is creating, I empty my
mind, giving it the peace that it neither gain from school nor rest.
My mind a
vacuum, I simply kept at my work. I did not need to see, for there
was nothing to see, did not need to feel, because it was hidden for
so long.
I
simply carved.
Fingering
the figure on my shelf, I smiled softly at the blatant emotions I had
lain bare that evening. That evening while carving, that same evening
I went to her at the pavilion. Sometimes I wish I could take back
those words, squeeze it the way I wanted to squeeze my sister each
time I saw her. But like those words, my sister was never going to
return. It didn't matter anymore though, I had her. She belonged to
me the way my sister never could.
I
withdrew my hand when a sharp pain laced through it. Looking
curiously yet detached at my finger, it saw it rapidly coated with
blood. Morbidly fascinated, I sucked the bitter-sweet liquid
imagining that it was not in my mouth but hers. She would kiss it
better. She was my nurse, my balm to everything that was and was not,
could and could not be.
But
she was getting scared, that I knew. Staring at the figurine on my
shelf, seeing the smile that looked so much like hers grace its
wooden face, I tried not to think about how long its been since I've
last seen her smile that way to me. She seemed so carefree the first
time I saw her, what happened? Have I destroyed that? Have I killed
her happiness?
"Hey..."
All I know
Is everything is
not as it's sold
I
did not even hear the sound of the door sliding open, but there she
was, standing by it, as though she was there for eternity, belonging
more to my room than I did.
"What
are you doing here?" My voice no longer held arrogance nor
overweening pride, no, she stripped me of that. It now merely held
tireness and a kind of weariness that I learnt over the half year
that I got to know her. Yes, she made me grow up.
But the more I grow the less I
know
And I have lived so many lives
Though I'm not old
"To
see you. Your maid let me in, she knows that I'm your teacher... do
you mind?"
I
brought my hand up, raking it through my hair as my other hand
gestured towards the chair at my desk. She marched purposefully
towards the said furniture while I plopped myself on the bed, not
quite relaxed, yet definitely not as tensed as she was. I could
practically smell her nervousness along with the faint scent of
perfume she loved.
Kenzo.
Flower. Exactly like her.
She
reminded me of the beauty in life that I never took the time to
appreciate. She made me feel happy, invigorated, alive. She simply
made me -feel-.
And the more I see, the less I
grow
The fewer the seeds the more I sow
So
how we had come to this?
Steeling
myself for the words that were sure to come, I tried to forget my
anxiety, or the worries that surfaced that afternoon when I saw how
unhappy she was, when I kissed her and knew that she was slowly
fading away.
"I
have decided." Folding her hands gently on her lap, she faced me
with a kind of determination I have never seen on her before. This
game was slowly coming to a close I knew.
"You're
going to leave aren't you?" I said it so matter-of-factly that
she started. Despite the calmness I exuded, I was astounded by the
placid facade I managed to portray. "It's alright, it's always
been a game, I should have known, should have kept to the
rules."
She
shook her head with a pained look in her eyes, as though I had
miscalculated everything.
The I see you standing
there
Wanting more from me
And all I can do is try
"You're
right, and wrong. I have to leave, that you are right. The rest...
doesn't have to be said."
Pushing
myself off the soft bed, I strided to her side, refusing the
inadequate answer she has fed me. I refuse to allow my love to die a
death like this. It deserves an honourable funeral, a mute salute to
the miracle that I could have a heart. I will not let it have such a
quiet, such a shameful death that strips it of the valour and
recognition it should have.
"No,
it has to be said. I need to know. Am I a game? Is that all I was? A
way out of your loneliness??"
I wish I hadn't seen all of the
realness
And all the real people are really not real at all
Turning
her head away from my intense gaze, her small frame shook with unshed
tears, as my eyes were filled with the self-same salty liquid too. I
was yet again causing her distress. I was no longer the escape she
was searching for, but a pain to her.
The more I learn the more I
cry
As I say goodbye to the way of life
I thought I had
designed for me
Why??
It wasn't fair. Not at all. She belonged to me, I belonged to her. We
needed each other, much too much perhaps. But why was life so cruel??
My last stop became the beginning to the end. I should have known,
God was never kind to me. He stole everything. He took my angels and
carved them in blood and sin. He ripped them of their wings and threw
them down.
Fallen
angels.
All of the moments that already
passed
We'll try to go back and make them last
Numbed,
I lowered myself to her level as I embraced her, pulling her to me. I
needed that, if only for the last time.
All of the things we want each
other to be
We never will be
Suddenly,
all other instruments lost their voice as my own continued its sad
sombre melody all alone. Alone once more.
*Tsuzuku*
A/N:
To the readers who have complained that my chapters were too short,
I've actually lengthened this one! So no more complaints alright? lol
Actually, the next few chapters actually gets longer, so it should
satiate you. This is one of the more boring chapters. I've actually
yawned through it, but it's required. I hate angsty stuff, it's these
stuff that I can't go back and read without blanching really. But at
that moment of writing it, it's so soothing. Yeah, writing these
stuff actually is very very therapeutic. Like I told my mom when I
vandalise my wall with my scribbles (yessss... Haruko is a little
vandal. Even in school, all the blasphemous stuff is written by me,
mostly because the school is Methodist. -snickers- But make no
mistake, I'm not against God, it's just the thrill of it. Argh, I'm
digressing), wait, told my mom... 'at least I'm not carving myself'.
Which is very true ne? -nods head sagely-
Oh yes, to my
reviewers! Please take the time out to leave your email addy. I very
much prefer to write back to you personally because my A/Ns are long
enough as it is! But to those who haven't left it behind:
thea:
I wanted a female teacher because I think that only the female
teachers can actually fall in love. Sorry guys, but I'd think that
the male teachers are just in it for sex. Alright, that sounds very
sexist, but majority wins!
AngelofDeath: What an honour
to hear from you! I'm such a fan of your works. (as you should know
by my reviews!) Indeed, I'm into the 'naughty' aspects of the
relationship without getting too NC-17 because I don't wanna get
kicked out! No, in actual fact, I don't quite know how to do it. But
I'd be most willing to read yours! Heh, a lemon inspired by my works,
that's an honour for sure!
Nakkie: Is this long enough?
I hope so, because I've already made it longer, mostly because of
your complaint. -grinz- As usual, I hunger for your review to let me
know if I should rectify any situation I have yet to notice.
~Haruko