“O, to be sure, we laugh less and play less and wear uncomfortable disguises like adults, but beneath the costume is the child we always are, whose needs are simple, whose daily life is still described by fairy tales.”
Leo Rosten
’I love you. You don’t know how much I really love you,’ she whispers, her voice rasped and her words halting.
‘Back at you, darling.’ He grunts, the years of acclimation to their home clear in his drawl.
She lifts her head from his chest, her expression clearly sullen and lips pouting. She looks at him pointedly.
‘Even after so many years, you still can’t say it directly,’ she scoffs, her voice humorous yet hollow. She rests her head back to his chest, breathing in his cool minty scent. By now, she can imagine him rolling his eyes – as he had always done when she’s in one of her ‘moods’. She sighs, burrowing her face deeper to his chest.
He groans before mumbling what could be heard as ‘I love you’.
Almost like lightning, she lifts her head to face him again. ‘What did you say?’
‘I didn’t say anything,’ he grumbles, his eyes looking away.
She frowns, pouting again. ‘Right’.
His eyes flicker at her frowning face and mumbled a what-the-heck before saying in a clearer tone. ‘I love you.’
She turns to him disbelievingly. He turns away.
She narrows her eyes and scoffs. ‘Like I would believe you. You can’t even look at me when you say it.’
He doesn’t respond and her expression turned smug.
‘Knew it,’ she whispers.
He surprises her by facing her again, his face serious, his eyes determined. He lightly strokes her cheek. His gaze searched for hers and when they locked her in, slowly he says, ‘I love you.’
As he gazed at her awestruck expression, he felt what he has sworn he had always felt.
Like clockwork that had suddenly stopped, its tiny little gears changing course, turning further and further back into time until suddenly it stopped – to that exact moment they had first met.
The first glance of the eyes as they felt their souls connect.
The prickling sensation as sparks flew from the very ends of their hair from a simple touch.
Each tinkling sound, like music weaving the air into its own private melody. And then the gears went rolling again – back to its original course. Like a montage of fragmented memories, of images, of sensations and of sounds.
All leading back to her.
All about her.
With him.
Together.
He hums silently, a lullaby he made just for her, watching each tear that flowed down her cheeks in wonder like a man who had just seen rain from years of drought. He caresses her face, savoring the fine-lined satin-like feel of her skin while brushing away the tears. She caresses his too, stroking the soft tendrils of hair that frames his face.
He smiles. So does she. Or at least she tries to.
He urges her to lean closer until his lips brushed the tip of her ear. Softly, he whispered the words he had saved especially for her. Words that carried with them his final breath. Words for her and her only. Even in his final moments, he wanted to give her what remains he has of himself. Of his existence.
And then the gears finally stopped.
I watch as my grandma keel over.
Her old and weary knees shaking from the impact while her arms never left their tight embrace over the man she had always loved. The man who was now lying lifelessly on the sterile-white sheets of the hospital bed.
My grandfather.
I listen as the doctors discussed his time of death and back to my grandma’s heart-wrenching cries as they faded away over time. It’s in these moments that I felt so helpless, so useless. It’s in these moments that I felt so disconnected to everything around me until all I see is a series of vignette pictures of events and all I hear is a low ringing in my ears. My only consolation was my dreams. But I doubt even this would take my mind off of everything that happened.
FLAP… FLAP… FLAP, goes the sound of fabrics whispering.
I open my eyes and flinch at the sudden assault of the light. I sit up from my comfy position on the reading nook by the window. I look around the room, momentarily admiring its calm and gentle ambiance before realized I was the only one inside.
I glance at the curtains that flap restlessly at the chilly autumn air until my eyes land on a lonesome figure. I trail my hand over my shoulder as it comes into contact with a warm blanket. Grabbing it by its ends, I wrapped it around me as I traipsed along the doors that led to the balcony.
Silently, I stand next to her by the tiny balcony of our old townhouse and stare down at the endless seas of red and rust-colored leaves falling and skirting the trees and the softened mud. I watch the leaves pirouette in the cold icy wind, their warm golden hues dancing in a variant cadence from gaiety to nostalgia.
I remember frolicking at the park, ignorant of the cold temperature, standing under the trees and watch as the leaves dance towards me like fairies of the old. I can still feel the rough-strewn veins on each leaf that fell on the ground, still hear the soft crunching sounds they make as I step on them.
I reach my hand out into the air, as if I was picking a stray leaf on the ground and then I dropped it. Even until now, I still can’t bring myself to pick up a leaf.
As if the thought of it was wrong.
That somehow, a part of me knew that it wasn’t mine to take.
That it solely belonged there. As a remnant.
A part belonging to what once was a memory of summer.
Before the world is covered in a wintry embrace.
I turn my attention back to my grandma as she stands motionlessly with her eyes closed. I stretch my arms and wrap them around her, letting the blanket cover us both.
I think back to the countless conversations we had shared in the past. The sleepless nights spent listening to her stories after stories, watching her talk animatedly and reminisce about her younger days.
I recall her telling me about her life with my grandpa. How it was kismet for the two of them. I recall her telling me that someday someone is going to look at me too with a light in their eyes and look at me like I’m everything they’ve been searching for their whole lives.
I like to believe that it would happen, someday.
Just as everybody does.
Wouldn’t you?
The moment you see that person and suddenly it wasn’t just your eyes that met. Your soul sees his and you find itself saying, “Oh, there you are, I’ve been looking for you. Complete me.”
And just like that, everything seems to move in slow motion before a moment of impact as if it had always been like that. Everything centers on that person until the moment you meet in the middle that the aftermaths of the impact as if in a slow motion seems to fall into place. Exactly where they should be.
Or at least until they reach the age of sixty or seventy where they finally had enough of each other and all that’s left is the hope that one of you finally pulls the plug or be diagnosed with Alzheimer’s so you could forget ever meeting or being married to each other. Because let’s face it, this is reality and in reality there’s no such thing as a ‘happily-ever-after’.
Hmmm… yeah. That sounds way better.
TICK... TICK, I click the mouse.
The tapping on the keyboard goes on, its soft but subtly striking sound echoing in the nearly vacant room. Just outside my room, a muted hum from the vacuum cleaner being turned on could still be heard despite the thick walls and French windows in between.
VRRR… VRRR… VRRR, the vacuum goes on with its annoying mono-rhythmic noise.
The sound goes on getting louder and louder, eliciting from me as I struggle to concentrate on the screen before me.
Verdammt! What kind of people would vacuum by the pool at two in the morning?
It’s ridiculous!
Of course, I had to ask for the unfortunate obvious considering they’re my family.
They were always obsessed with having everything spotless from the ceilings down to their collection of prized china. It wouldn’t surprise me if they insisted on vacuuming the driveway or their perfectly manicured lawn.
What’s that? A shred of leaf on the grass? (gasp) Unforgivable! It simply isn’t done! Maria, vacuum it, pronto!
I can just picture one of them threatening to fire some poor live-in staff if they find a speck of dirt on their precious ornaments.
I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding at the irritating noise. Even as I wear my headphones, they still couldn’t block out the noise. I swear the guy who sold this to me owes me my fifty dollars back!
I tap furiously on the keyboard, hoping to drown the noise with work.
Okay, where was I?
I scroll to the upper part of the page, scanning at the last few paragraphs.
Right, back to the reality part.
Stretching my fingers, I close them and crack my knuckles. I listen in satisfaction as my tired joints pop. I shake my head from side to side, try some cricks out. I rotate my shoulders, loosening up some tensions from last night’s overnighter.
Yup, that should do the trick!
I aim my finger to a key. It wasn’t long before I found myself in a rhythmic pace again that I begin to get lost in my work...
“Have you ever thought that your life could’ve been different? That somehow in the very whims of fate, we could actually live differently? A life where you’ll actually have a normal home to warm your cold wandering heart, a family to welcome you with the most bone-crushing hugs and most of all, be always told that you are loved. In short, a normal life. Now, would you?
For so long I have believed that in this world, life favors the practical ones while fate? Fate is better off sealed and locked inside a trunk at the bottom-most part of the sea along with other foolish childhood dreams better left buried and forgotten. Because whether we want it or not, life doesn’t give a shit if you trip, get caught in a fire or cry in the middle of the night. Life doesn’t stop for anyone. It goes on until we find ourselves as a momentary speck of dust in an indifferent and infinite universe. And the sooner you grow up and realize this, the better.
So why should I waste my high school life wasting my time with parties, getting drunk and getting caught up between teenage dramas for an illusion? I had so much better use of my time-“
Suddenly, the screen goes blank. And all hell breaks loose.Suddenly, the screen goes blank. And all hell breaks loose.
Copyright © 2019 by Andrea Cassandra Lei Meñosa
All Rights Reserved.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
