Only A Smile
“When will I see you again?” She asked. He placed his arms around her waist. Their foreheads grazed each other as he met her chocolate eyes. He lightly gave her a kiss on the tip of her nose, then pressed his lips together and looked away.
“I don’t know.” he replied. He met her gaze again, her uneasy gaze.
“That’s not good enough for me.” Her eyes overflowed and he dried her cheeks with his thumbs. He silenced her weeping.
“How can I be 1,000 miles away from you unknowing of when you’ll come back?” She said through a broken voice.
“Wherever I am, I’m only a smile away.” He drifted his lips to her forehead and rested them there. He tightened his grip on her back. She slid her hands up to his chest and played with the buttons on his shirt. She closed her eyes. She felt his lips pressed against her forehead, smelled his cologne, shivered at the touch of his hands.
“I’ll never forget you.” She whispered. He looked at her again, eyes wide. He caressed her cheek with his hand.
“I’ll never give you the chance.” He leaned down and kissed her. He dragged it out for a while, tasting her lips like he hadn’t in years, or like he wouldn’t again. Her eyes overflowed again as she took in as much of him as she could. He pulled away and rested his forehead on hers again. He noticed she was crying, but he smiled.
“Goodbye, my love.” He ran his fingers through her hair one last time, and then she could no longer feel his touch. She already felt herself forgetting things as she was left alone with the waves. His touch, his kiss. She longed for it one more time. She fell to her knees on the sand. Tears were streaming down her face, but she made not a single weeping sound. She didn’t bury her face in her hands. She didn’t struggle.
She smiled. She smiled, and remembered his kiss, his touch, his scent. She remembered everything as if she was still right next to him, through a smile.
-xLLSx-
(via reckless-lovee)
Numb
It was just another day. The sun rose, but it barely brightened the sky. The light coming through my window was bleak and colorless. My room was grey, just like any other day. It was just as hard to pull myself out of bed as it was yesterday, and the day before that. My pillow was damp. I was crying in my sleep again, and by the crazy arrangement of my sheets, I didn’t sit still either. I’ve been having nightmares like this for months now. It stopped worrying my friends and family a while ago. They’ve come to accept it like I have, but they didn’t go through what I had to accept it.
I crave those five days now. Every day, I wait. I go through a lackluster day of soulless existing just to experience those five days of bliss. Every day is another day closer, but it feels so much longer. I’m closer now, I know it. But I still have about five more months of waiting. Five more months of being numb.
I start my days with criticizing my appearance in the mirror. The bags under my eyes. The frizzy fly-aways on my hair. My sunken skin. I get uglier every day without him, I think to myself. It scares me sometimes. A lot of times, actually. When he finally comes back, he’ll be stronger, happier, and I’ll have turned into an old maid at only twenty-five. That is, if he actually comes back when I turn twenty-five. What if they want him to stay longer? Or worse. What if they ask for volunteers to stay longer, and he wants to? Four more years, a letter per year. How would I be able to survive that? I don’t think I would.
These days, I find it hard to even get dressed. When I do, it’s simple. Jeans and a t-shirt, or a tank top with pajama pants. I spend a lot of time on the computer, running a blog to write down every depressing feeling I have to deal with throughout the day. Sometimes people ask me questions. “How do you deal with it?” “How do you spend years without the one you love?” I don’t know how to answer them anymore. I used to just say something to inspire them, “It’s not hard when you know your love for someone can never break, no matter what you go through.” I still believe that, but I find it hard to instill that belief into others nowadays.
While sitting on my bed with my laptop as a companion, I kept staring at that top drawer of my dresser, our dresser. In our room. It saddens me that I’ve gotten out of the habit of referring to things as ours. It’s been over two years, it’s understandable by now. But it kills me. Everything that reminds me of us, or the fact that I still have about a year and a half longer to wait kills me on the inside. It’s not easy to hide, either. Everyone can see it, and they’re thankfully considerate. They put the least amount of emphasis on Austin as possible. It’s no use, though. I think about him all the time. I can never stop. Every night I read the three letters he’s sent me again. He wrote one on the plane when he was first going to his destination because he knew he’d only be able to write one each year after that. I was always afraid he’d get too tired, and one letter would read, I found someone else or I can’t do this with you anymore, I’m sorry. Luckily, they haven’t. They were always sweet, enriching. I kept them in the top drawer of our dresser underneath some unmentionables, for easy access but also so people wouldn’t stumble upon them (not that I really had company over anymore). I left the letters in the envelopes. I treasured the doodles he had scribbled across the back of each one.
Each drawing represented something inside the letter. The first one had a drawing of the back half of an airplane and a cloud covering the front. The window right before the last had a heart inside of it. His seat was in that row. He wrote about how much he would miss me, how he knew we could make it but also how he was still petrified of going four years without me. It’s funny that in my letter back to him, I was the one to calm him down. It’s hard to believe now. Now I’m the one in need of reassurance all the time. On the second envelope was a drawing of a woman standing in a field with a horse in the background. The wind was blowing her skirt, but she didn’t have a face. He replaced it with a heart. In his letter he told me a story about how when driving to work in the early morning, he passed a ranch each day. A couple days before he wrote the letter, he passed the ranch again in the morning only to see a woman standing in the field away from the barn. She looked upset, and she wore a long brown skirt, like the one I had worn on our third date. He said she looked like me, and the skirt reminded him of me. He almost crashed his car when he saw her. He never saw her again after that. On the third envelope, the last letter I received from him, he wrote the alphabet in cursive, with a heart attached at the end. In the letter, he explained that he saw a diner called “The Alphacrest Diner” and the neon title was in cursive. On the same road, he spotted a motel called “Bobby’s Motel”, with the lettering also in cursive. Every place on that road had their signs written in cursive. When he got to the end of the road, he saw the sign for the street read “Script st.” He chuckled at it, and then remembered when I wrote him love letters before we moved in together. You have the most beautiful cursive handwriting. I remember thinking about it every time I read your letters. It makes me wonder what you think of when you read mine, he wrote. In every drawing was a heart. The heart represented him or myself.
I felt the urge to go through that drawer and read his letters again, at 2:00 in the afternoon. I gave myself a rule only a couple weeks after Austin left; that I wouldn’t torture myself. While I mostly break that rule practically every day, I decided that reading his letters more than once a day would be torturing myself a little too much. So I only read them at night. Now that I think about it, that’s probably why my pillow is always wet in the morning.
I decided to emerge from my bedroom in an effort to dissipate my urges to read those letters. I slipped on a pair of bootcut jeans and a loose t-shirt over my head. I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. I keep myself hopeful most of the day until around 5:00pm, when the mail comes. I always curse the system for making it come so late, mostly because my risen hopes have a hard downfall in the evening. The fact was that right now, I had to do something that would take up three hours but also have enough productivity to keep my mind off of Austin’s letters for a while. It would be great if I didn’t think of Austin at all for those three hours, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
I started dialing numbers on my house phone. I was calling my best friend, Jenny, who I’ve barely spoken to all week. Like I said before, it’s hard for me to do anything without Austin, so I haven’t hung out with her in a while. She sounded excited when I got her on the other line. I explained to her that I needed something to do for a couple hours and that I was driving myself insane. She knew what I was talking about. She suggested she come over and we could bake something together. I agreed. I haven’t baked anything since Austin was home.
She showed up at my door about twenty minutes later with a recipe in hand. She wore her brightest smile, which matched her cute red dress. Jenny liked to dress up for any occasion possible. We spent most of the day in the kitchen mixing and measuring, and at one point exploding confectioner’s sugar all over my counter. We laughed a lot too. The hangout did the job I wanted it to do; I barely thought about Austin’s letters. I still thought about Austin, though. I wished he was there. There was a sweet aroma of mint escaping from the oven after we placed the pans inside, and Austin had a real sweet tooth for mint. While waiting for the muffins to be done, we cleaned up our mess. We were silent until Jenny popped a question on me.
“So, how have you been?” She asked.
“Fine.” I said without looking at her. I focused on scrubbing some chocolate out of one of the cracks in my counter…our counter.
“Lucy…” She said. I started scrubbing harder, determined to get every piece of chocolate out of that awful tiny crack. I began scrubbing so hard I felt my knuckles getting white. Jenny put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me. I hadn’t realized I was crying, and I wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands.
“I know you’re still having a hard time without him, but we miss you. All of the girls miss hanging out with you.” She said to me. I just looked down and started scrubbing again.
“I’m doing fine. Only five months left.” I replied. Jenny didn’t ask me much after that. Our mint chocolate chip muffins were ready about ten minutes later anyway, right when Jenny had to leave to go to work. I gave her a few to take with her and gave her a friendly hug goodbye. I went back in the kitchen to put the muffins away in the fridge and finish cleaning the counter, but I couldn’t bear it. I kept feeling the warmness of my tears floating down my cheeks, and constantly wiping them away wasn’t doing any good. I tossed the washcloth into the corner of the counter, carelessly placed the muffins on the table, and swiftly made my way to the front of the house, where I forcefully opened the screen door and collapsed onto the stoop, burying my face in my knees. I cried for a long time. A small dark stain formed on the knees of my jeans eventually. The inside of my hands froze from being wet in the cold. I lifted my face out of its safe nest, and watched the horizon. The sun was setting behind a long string of trees, creating an orange and pink glow above them, a sight I would normally categorize as beautiful. But I barely noticed. It was getting cold. I realized I forgot my jacket, and I could see my breath. I slowly got to my feet and brushed off the rocks from my pants. As I turned to go back inside, I heard something from a short distance away.
“Lucy! Wait!” It was a man’s voice. I sighed and turned around.
“What is it, Andy?” Andy was our mailman. We had always been somewhat of friends, and he was very sympathetic toward me when he found out that Austin’s job had moved him far away from me, for such a long time. He always offered a helping hand, and shared my excitement when he handed me one of Austin’s letters.
“You might not want to go inside yet.” He said, smiling. I lost my breath when he handed me a bright envelope with just a simple drawing of two hearts attached to each other on the back. I smiled the widest smile I could manage. This letter was five months early. I could barely contain myself. Andy smiled at me before returning to his truck, and I tore open the seal with shaking hands. I clumsily opened the folded paper, and felt my smile slowly die. My heart fell to my feet, as I read those words over and over in my head.
It’s over.
It’s over. I dropped the letter, the envelope, and tears started stumbling out of my eyes like waterfalls. Right when I was about to collapse onto the ground in horror, I felt a hand on my shoulder and another on my waist to support me from falling.
“Thank you, Andy.” I muttered through my sorrows. I turned my shuddering legs to face him, but I was caught by surprise when I was met with a pair of bright green eyes, trimmed black hair, and a smile wider than the Earth.
“It’s over, Lucy. I quit the job.” I heard his smooth voice whisper the words.
“Austin…” I mouthed. My voice wouldn’t work, and it didn’t need to. He encased my body with his arms and pulled me in for a kiss I’ve been waiting for since the day he left. I didn’t want to stop, not ever. But I did anyway, because I needed to know…
“Austin, why?” I stared into his eyes. They looked truly amazing against the beautiful sunset landscape, standing on our stoop.
“I was hoping you’d ask that.” His smile grew wider. “I figured this was more important.” He said, kneeling before me with a bright ring in between his fingers.
It seemed like only a few seconds ago, I was repeating the exact actions I was doing in this moment. I pressed my palm over my mouth as my tears flowed over the hills of my fingers. My knees grew weak. He spoke to me in the softest of tones the sweetest words my ears have ever had the pleasure of listening to, but I didn’t hear them then. I only knew what they were because he later repeated them to me. In that moment, I heard nothing but the breathtaking sound of the wind blowing, the happiness of leaves rustling on tree branches. Everything that was so pale and dull to me in my numbness was bright and beautiful in this moment. I could barely say the word.
“Yes.” The moment ended with tight squeezing, fumbling lips, traveling hands, and gasping breaths that choked out words of reassurance. It’s over, it’s over, I can’t believe it’s finally over.
Through my short-lived teenage romances or my years of waiting for my unknown future husband, I would have never guessed the words it’s over would mean a beginning, and not an end.
-xLLSx-
(Source: vintageair)
The Dark Side Of America
My feet slowly traced the wooden dock as I took my time walking down the edge. I watched the sun rest on the water’s horizon, wishing to see the silhouette I’ve been waiting too long to lay my eyes on. The smell of salt filled my nostrils as I allowed myself a seat on the edge of the wood. I sat still and listened to the waves whisking back and forth on top of each other. Seagulls called out to each other to break the peaceful quiet, scraping the orange sky with their swift movement. I closed my eyes to breathe in the summer air, the air from the sea, the sky, the salt. I breathed it all in, letting it wash over me. I awaited your return on the edge of the dock that day, caressing the envelopes in my hands. You had sent four throughout the years, as many as you could send. The heart shaped seals were broken and cracked from the envelopes being opened and closed again one too many times. The envelopes themselves had rips at the corners, the once blankly white paper getting to be too old.
As I traced the paper with my fingers, I filled my mind with memories. I tried to remember the feeling of your presence with mine, the way your lips tasted, the static between our hands when we touched. But it was hard to recall, much to my disappointment. I faintly remember the warmth of your body heat near mine, how your eyes looked when you were scared, or how your soothing voice sounded when it breathed it’ll be okay.
“I promise you, we’ll be okay.” You said, your eyes as loving as they were allowed. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I desperately searched for words to say.
“I know we will. I’m not worried about us. I’m, well, I’m worried about you.” You grabbed my hands, entangling them in yours as if to take them into safekeeping, and brought them up to your face, resting them against your mouth. You closed your eyes and lightly kissed my hands. Your eyes met mine.
“I will never leave you alone.” You whispered.
I remember how your breath felt on my fingers, still so close to your mouth. I closed my eyes and visualized the memory in my head a couple times over, then opened your first letter. The first one I had received in the mail, my first smile since you had to leave.
Cathryn,
I apologize for the delay of this letter. I can only imagine how much of your time is spent waiting. I promise you that I write you as often as I can, but it is not very often. I hope you won’t expect many letters from me, but still believe in my love for you.
America is more beautiful than you and I have read it to be. The cities are filled with astounding architecture, and outside of the cities is even more beautiful in its own way. During my travels, I discovered a lake just after a meadow. I just know it would take your breath away. I cannot wait to come back and take you here. I promise, I will, and you will be far from disappointed.
I must go. I’ll write again whenever it may be possible. I love and miss you dearly. Keep me in your heart.
Jack
I held the letter to my chest, wanting to cry and to smile all at once. But I stayed at ease. I neatly folded it the same way it always has been, and neatly tucked it back into the envelope. I remember receiving that letter, exactly 6 years and 42 days ago. It was only 1 year and 323 days into your trip.
“How long will you be gone?” I asked, looking down, avoiding your gaze. It was difficult to keep my voice steady.
I remember asking that question as if it had only been a day. The rush of emotions going on inside of me was unbelievable. I was scared, hurt, and heartbroken. It was a steep price to pay, even if it was for our benefit, so we could have a better life together. Within the freedom of America, and away from England and all of Europe in its entirety.
“Eight years. Meet me right here on this dock exactly eight years from now. ” Yes, watching you leave was a steep price to pay.
I slipped the second letter out of its envelope, being cautious with it while I unfolded.
Cathryn, my love,
I hope this letter gets to you soon, as I cannot wait for you to hear this news. I have discovered a little house just like we wanted here in America. It’s a short distance near the ocean, a beach, even. It’s only two floors, and not very big. It has a front porch with a swing, and a backyard filled with trees. It’s the closest to that cabin house that you have described to me as your dream house. I’m far too excited for words to even express. I simply cannot wait to show you it.
Keep me in your heart.
Jack
I felt the wind carry my hair along the side of my shoulder. The waves picked up, crashing louder, and I felt the cool mist spray my ankles and tickle my toes. The bottom of my dress folded and whipped in the air until it subsided to the stillness of before. I returned the letter to safety before the breeze could claim it. I took a deep breath, my eyes fixated on the horizon. The sun was slowly disappearing behind the waves, creating a rush of color across the sky. I breathed out, and looked down at the water beneath my feet. I studied the tiny waves slapping the wooden beams of the dock.
“How am I supposed to live eight full years without you? What will I do to let myself know that everything will be alright?” I could feel the panic in my eyes as I stared straight into yours. Yours were soft, mellow. They did not return my distress.
“Keep me in your heart.” You gently pressed your lips against mine, lingering for as long as was possible. And before I knew it, your ship was all the way on the horizon, leaving me with nothing but the waves and the sky to keep me company.
I closed my eyes. I remember thinking of how many cups I could fill with tears from just that one day. I opened my eyes, wiping away a single tear that had escaped despite my will to keep calm. I looked toward the horizon again as I pulled out the third letter.
My dearest Cathryn,
We’re halfway through, my love. I am sending you this letter while almost at the four year point, and I know time will have passed whence you receive this.
I feel I have progressed by much since the last time I wrote you. However, I have no idea how to put it into words. There are just so many things about America. The country is neverending. I just hope I can make it from coast to coast within the next four years! I’ve seen so much. There have been woods, plains, and even mountains. The mountains, my word. I must show you them some day. They are simply astonishing, I cannot even begin to explain.
With every site that I mutter the word ‘beautiful’ to describe, I think of you. Keep me in your heart, as you are always in mine.
Jack
I was reminded of how that final sentence had made my heart flutter. I slipped the letter back into the envelope slowly and carefully, not taking my eyes off the horizon.
It’s been the extra four years, darling. It’s been eight years as a whole, exactly today.I thought. Once again, I tried my best to remember you, and your ways in general. I tried to remember the pace of your steps when walking on the road, the sound of your breathing when you became too tired, the way your hair felt brushing against my cheek when we watched the waves together.
“Who will keep you safe if I am here?” I asked, before you had to leave.
“You’ve known Michael almost as long as I have. He’ll keep me safe, as a best friend should.” I tried my best to believe you.
I did not want to forget, nor would I ever, but it is all a faint memory. I stared down the horizon, desperately waiting for that boat-shaped silhouette I’ve been dying to see for exactly eight years. I closed my eyes. The fourth letter is something I did not need to read, as I had memorized it completely. The last letter I had received that concerned you and your travels to find a better life for us. I first opened that letter 2 years and 36 days before your return.
To my dearest friend Cathryn,
I am writing you this with the emotions rising from the bottom of my heart. We were so close to coming back home to the dock, so close. But I must bring you the worst of news in its place. What was unknown about the dark side of America has come to my knowledge in the worst possible way. The cities of America are lurking with danger.
We reached a city named Detroit. I’ve heard that it is crawling with killers, but I believed we would be safe if we only stayed a night. But night is the blackest time to be staying in a place crawling with killers. Forgive me for not having this knowledge until it was too late. I’m afraid to say I’ve learned that killers are not merciful. I blame myself. He knew this was going to be a dangerous trip, travelling through cities, sometimes at night, but I still blame myself. Believe me when I say I wish things could have ended differently, but there is nothing I can do now. He did not return.
I’m staying in America for now as planned, and will return when was planned as well. I hope you take this well.
Sincerely, Michael
I remember the agony shooting through me, the pain lifting my soul above my body, the emptiness separating my heart from my chest.
I closed my eyes and let another tear slide down, but opened them in time to watch the sun disappear underneath the sea. I had spent my day waiting for your return, remembering the exact words of the letter that told me you were not going to. But I kept my promise and waited at this dock exactly eight years from your departing day. I have kept you in my heart every day for those eight years. I have kept my end of the promise, and now it ends.
Yes, watching you leave was a steep price to pay.
-xLLSx-
(Source: myoceansmind)
