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)
Melted Chocolate
He cleared his throat, and looked at her hard, but avoided her eyes. He massaged his chin with the roughness of his fingertips. His watering eyes scanned the plain white ceiling, looking for an answer inside the cracks and chipped paint in the corners. He met her eyes at last.
“Wh…what did you call it?” He asked.
“A lesbian, Dad. I’m a lesbian.” She replied. She played with her fingertips and took a deep breath. Tara knew that her father would take this hard. He wasn’t the religious type, but he wasn’t liberal either. She dreaded telling him, but things with Samantha had gotten serious. It was hard to continue lying to him with the things she felt and constantly thought about.
He looked down at the table, holding back the threatening water in his eyes.
“My daughter’s a lesbian.” He muttered under his breath, but Tara had heard it. It didn’t surprise her.
“It’s not that bad, Dad.” She said, trying to comfort him.
“Not that bad?!” He yelled, slamming his fist on the table. The liquid in his eyes began spilling over, but his eyes only showed rage, not sorrow.
“I raised a whore!” he screamed.
“I’m not a whore, Daddy…I just don’t like boys.” Tara said, her voice shaking. He got up from the table, and threw the chair on the ground.
“Dad…wait!” She shouted as he made his way toward the vacant doorway. He stopped in his tracks when he heard her yell. He whipped himself around and planted his right palm on the table, leaning close to her.
“Get out of my house.” He muttered. His left hand pointed toward the door. Tara’s eyes started to water too, now. She didn’t reply.
“I said get out!” He screamed again. Tara shuddered, then ran out the door crying. Her father shut the door behind her.
Barefoot, Tara ran down the street until she found a rocky, dirt path that led into the backwoods. She trudged her bruised feet through the path until she was met with a thin, brunette woman sitting in the dirt, drawing shapes into the ground with a broken twig. She wore a haltered purple dress with a yellow ribbon tied around the middle, and her matching violet eyes met with Tara’s emerald ones. The girl swallowed.
“I take it it didn’t go well.” She said, softly.
“No.” Tara replied, desperately trying to keep her composure. She failed. Her voice shook as she said the word, and she was bawling within seconds. Samantha got up and wrapped her arms around Tara’s waist.
It’s okay. She whispered, over and over again in Tara’s ear. It’s going to be okay.
They stayed like that for a while. Tara lifted her head from Samantha’s soaking shoulder, and ran her fingers through her brown waves. She smiled as she looked into her eyes.
“I’m going to miss you.” She said. Samantha’s brow twitched. She forcefully pulled Tara’s hand out of her hair.
“No.” She said. “No. You promised this wouldn’t be the end of us.”
“He’s my father…”
“No.” Tara looked down, but only long enough for Samantha to pull her head up to face her again. She smiled, hoping Tara would return it. She did.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” Samantha said. Tara’s smile grew wider.
“I know.” She replied. They smiled in silence for a minute.
“It’s your turn to pick where we go.” Tara reminded.
“I know. I’ve already chosen it.” Samantha said.
“Where, then?”
“The beach.”
——
Tara stuck her toes in the sand, playing with the feeling it gave them. She flung her head back and gazed at the sun through her tinted glasses. She exhaled in sync with the waves crashing onto the wet sand. She heard a pair of sandals slide next to her.
“Sorry I’m late. I had to stop somewhere on the way.”
“You’re never late.” Tara didn’t look at Samantha. She locked her gaze on the sun.
“Yeah, but it was important.”
“What’s so important? You’re never late.” Tara snapped. Samantha looked down at the paper bag in her hand. She let the silence linger for a moment before saying something again.
“I bought you some chocolate.” She hopefully said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Tara, stop.” Tara looked down and played with her fingertips. It was a nervous habit of hers, anytime she was scared of a reaction.
“What if it isn’t worth it?” She asked. Samantha’s hands went to Tara’s eyes before they could overflow with tears again. She smiled, and Tara returned it. Tara always told Samantha that she had a contagious smile.
“I want to ask you some things.” Samantha said. Tara took a deep breath and told her okay.
“Three questions.” Tara gave her the okay again.
“Question one: Do you love me? Truly and undoubtedly? With the marrow of your bones?” Tara chuckled.
“That’s more than one question…but yes, Samantha, I do.” Samantha smiled.
“Okay, question two: how long do you want to be with me?”
“Forever.” Samantha could feel her knuckles shaking.
“Final question: Are you sure?”
“Yes…why?” Tara asked, confused. Samantha just smiled.
“Follow me.” She grabbed Tara’s hand, and the paper bag with her free hand. They walked through the sand in the scorching sun. Tara’s mind was racing. She didn’t know what to think, what to say, or what was happening. Samantha simply wore a big smile on her face as they reached the boardwalk next to the water. A cruise ship sailed by in the distance. Samantha stopped. She watched as Tara took in the scenery. The water, the ship, Samantha’s clutch on the bag of chocolates.
“Why did you bring that? I’m really not hungry.” She said, but Samantha ignored her question.
“Do you like it?” Samantha asked.
“Like what?”
“The cruise ship.” Tara smiled. She knew what was going on now. She figured out that Samantha had planned a vacation, a getaway for just the two of them. A vacation on a cruise ship for just her and Samantha. She didn’t realize how big her smile was until she had to reply.
“Yes, I love it.” Samantha returned her smile.
“Good.” She said. She let go of Tara’s hand, and knelt on the ground to dig through the paper bag. She pulled out a black box.
“…because that’s where our reception will be.” She opened the box to reveal, not chocolate, but a twisted band holding a large diamond in the middle.
-xLLSx-
(via reckless-lovee)
“I’ll love you until the last one dies.” He said.
“Babe…” I replied. “You’re so cliche sometimes.”
He giggled. I nudged my nose into the fluffy pink petals, searching for the one that had no scent.
“Babe…where’s the fake flower?”
He grinned sheepishly. “There is none. They’re all 100% real.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I frowned. Although I detest those cheesy pages on Facebook where the guy does unrealistic prince-like things to make the girl swoon in every way possible, loving me until the last one dies would only last a week or two.
“But…does that mean…you’ll stop loving me in a week?”
“Of course not!”
“But, you’ll only love me until the last one dies…in a week is when all of them will be dead…”
“Not this one.” Suddenly, my eyes saw nothing but a silver sparkle and the glow of his big blue eyes as he muttered four simple words.
-xLLSx-
(via fuckyeahpinkthings)
While In Mourning
“Cindy, you look beautiful tonight.” He said softly, looking straight into my eyes. I looked down and blushed, trying not to make a fool of myself by smiling too much. I played with his fingers a little more, both my hands laced into his. I looked up again, meeting his sparkling auburn eyes. A gorgeous shade of reddish-brown, with a hint of orangey yellow around the outer edge. Those eyes could put stars to shame, and they constantly stole the air from my lungs.
“Thank you, Tom.” I replied, smiling. He smiled back, and squeezed my hands tighter.
“Happy anniversary, darling.”
“And to you, my dear.” We shared a few moments of just getting lost in each other’s eyes then. That’s when you know you’re truly in love. When you can share minutes of complete silence without having to awkwardly look away or play with your fingertips, and fully enjoy the moment.
“Have I ever told you…” He began. “…how my father proposed to my mother?”
I shook my head no, and he chuckled.
“Well, that’s because he never did.” I laughed too, not quite understanding what he was getting at.
“However, he always regretted it. He would tell me that he wished every single day that he could have pulled out a sparkling silver ring, preferably with a shiny big silver heart straight in the middle, and asked for her hand in marriage on their anniversary day.” He looked at me again, his smile disappearing. He wasn’t upset, just serious. Suddenly, he knelt down on one knee in front of me, and I gasped along with everyone surrounding us in the restaurant. He pulled out this little black box, and opened it to reveal the most beautiful piece of jewelry I had ever laid my eyes on. It was a silver band, with a gorgeous diamond heart straight in the middle of it, just like he had described before.
“He never had the courage to give it to her.” He said. I put my hands over my mouth and disbelief and waited for him to continue, the whole restaurant watching us.
“Cindy, I knew from the first day I met you that you are the most beautiful, intelligent, sweet, and fun girl I would ever meet in my entire life. I watched my father live in regret for years because he had never officially married my mother. I refuse to do the same with you. I’ll do this right, because you deserve the best that there is. Cindy Rose Mackenzie, will you be mine forever as my caring wife, with me as your loving husband?” I smiled, and felt my eyes starting to water. I looked down for a split second, taking all of this in, and quickly looked back up again.
“Yes.” I replied. “Yes, I will marry you because I love you.” He flashed me a very wide smile, and pulled the ring out of its placement in the box. He slowly slid it on my finger, and I got up to kiss him. Everyone in the restaurant clapped once they realized what the answer was, and we shared a moment of perfection right then and there.
We paid the check at the front desk, and left the restaurant for the first time as a happy couple of fiancee’s. It was raining outside, and it could have ruined my beautiful dress that I was saving for this night, but I did not care. We started walking to the car, and then I stopped in the middle of the parking lot. He walked back to face me.
“What’s the matter?” He asked. I grinned.
“I just realized that I’m going to be spending the rest of my life with the man of my dreams.” He returned my grin, and picked me up to spin me around. I laughed more than I ever had while I was spinning. I had never been so happy.
He set me down, and planted a kiss on my lips.
“I love you.” He said, smiling brightly. Right when I was going to reply, his smile instantly disappeared. The color from his face escaped, and his eyes seemed horrified.
“Tom, what’s wrong?” I asked, worried. His hand left my waist and retreated to his chest, which was stained a color much darker than the original of his shirt. I panicked, and he fell backwards onto the blacktop. I saw a man pointing a gun from afar, and I assumed he was the one responsible for my fiancee’s pain. I quickly knelt down to him and grabbed his hand.
“Tom? Tom?! Tom, are you alright?” I asked, frantically. Tears were quickly rolling down my face, and I grabbed his hand tighter and tighter. His eyes started watering, and his mouth was open as he tried to speak.
“C-cindy?” He muttered.
“Yes. Yes, what is it?” I said, completely sobbing.
“I’m c-cold…” He said, and closed his eyes.
“Tom!” I shook his body, but he had no response. I knew that he was gone, but I kept shaking and screaming his name for a minute longer, just in case. Finally, I stopped, and just let my head hang down. I grabbed his hand, which was placed on his chest, and sobbed to the silence of his heart.
—
This was the third morning in a row where I had woken up from that memory in my dreams. It’s been a year since Tom died. As of today, it’s been exactly a year. I woke up with tears streaming down my face, as I did the past two days. I am revisited with thoughts of ‘If only we had gone to a different restaurant. If only we hadn’t gotten in the way of that gun fight between those guys. If only…” I had been haunted by those thoughts by this past entire year.
I caressed the sparkling heart of my ring on my left ring finger, crying. I wiped away the tears, like I always had, and continued on with my daily routine. I forced myself to get out of bed despite my desire, and took a quick shower.
I had the same routine every day since my darling love passed. I would get up every day crying and looking at my ring, I’d go to the coffee shop and read the morning paper, and I’d spend the day reading or working online (I’m a novelist, and I’ve been working on a nonfiction novel about what happened with Tom and I), or sometimes I would go to the gym and exercise.
Today, something broke my routine. My routine that kept me sane, my routine that would keep me from spending every moment mourning the death of Tom, was broken by something today.
I went to the coffee shop with a paper in hand, about to get my daily cup of coffee. I walked up to the counter, already starting to read the front page of the paper, and just said “the usual.”
“Uh, excuse me, miss?” I heard a man’s voice say, aside from the usual woman who served me.
“Oh, uh…I’m sorry. Where’s Angela?”
“She works the afternoon shift now. I just started working here today. My Name’s Chris.” He stuck out his hand. I shook it, but was still a little confused. Normally, when someone is working behind a counter at a coffee shop for their first day, they don’t try to become buddy-buddy with every customer, now do they? Well, I excused him anyway. He seemed like a respectful man. He had blonde hair that was a little over grown, but well kept. A thin blonde mustache matched it, but what caught my attention was the subjects hiding behind those thick-rimmed glasses.
He had bright, auburn eyes. They were a reddish brown color, with a touch of orangey yellow around the edges.
I stared into his eyes without saying a word, and I couldn’t look away. I felt a little faint for a second, and I realized I wasn’t breathing. I noticed that he hadn’t said or done anything either. The man behind my nudged us angrily, so I quickly just walked away and sat at the small table in the back corner. I realized then that I had forgotten to order any coffee, but I sat there and read my paper anyway. A white cup with steam escaping from it found itself to the table in front of my paper, and I saw Chris sit down across from me.
“Hey, umm, I thought I’d give you this. You were here all by your lonesome, and looked like you needed some cheering up.” He said. I stared at him again for a moment, but I quickly looked away, avoiding his eyes.
“Oh, well, thank you, Chris. That’s very thoughtful of you.” I said, a bit emotionless, and went back to reading my paper. I noticed from the corner of my eye that he leaned in a little closer to me.
“You never told me your name.” He said, seeming intrigued. I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Well, I told you my name was Chris, and I even held out my hand for you to hold, but then…I don’t know. I looked into your eyes and I just…I…” He looked down. I was a little taken aback when he said he held out his hand for me to hold, and not for me to shake. I studied him. He looked like he was about to cry, and it seemed like he was avoiding looking at me.
“My name is Cindy.” I said, smiling. I hoped he would cheer up. He smiled, and then he chuckled nervously.
“I’m sorry for seeming so rude. It’s just…” He trailed off, and I noticed a wedding band around his left ring finger. I felt a little bit of a discomforting feeling inside me, like anger or jealousy, whence I saw it.
“It’s just what?” I asked.
“It’s…it’s your eyes. They’re forest green, with a lighter green around the pupil.”
“Yeah…so?”
“My wife had the same eyes.”
“Well, your wife and I have some similarities then.”
“My wife died a year ago. Exactly a year ago today, actually. We were celebrating a year of marriage together, so I took her out to eat, and the place was robbed. She was killed in the crossfire…” His eyes went mellow. I froze, and I felt close to him, even though I had just met him. I placed my hand on top of his left hand. He studied my ring, but I ignored it.
“You still wear the ring as a reminder of her love.”
“Yes, how did you know.”
“I do the same.” I said, and swallowed to keep down all the bad feelings. “Exactly a year ago, my fiance proposed to me as a gift, so to speak, for our second anniversary. We were also at a restaurant, and there was a gun fight going on in the parking lot. He died in my arms after spinning me around in absolute happiness.” He wrapped his hand around mine and looked into my eyes. I looked back, and got lost in his eyes again. I could tell he was getting lost in mine as well.
“You wear the ring so you can feel close to him, even if he can never be here.”
“Yes, I do.”
We spent the rest of the morning opening up to each other completely. We spilled all of the feelings that we both had been bottling up, and we even cried a little together. Before we knew it, it was noon and the morning was over.
“Oh, it’s 12. I…I should get back.” He said, glancing back at the counter. I could see that he was worried, as he just remembered now that he was supposed to be working all morning and not spending time with me.
“I should get home anyway.” I said, and flashed him a smile. He flashed me a smile back.
“Can I walk you outside?”
“That would be nice.” We got up from the table, and he linked his hand with mine. We walked outside the doors of the coffee shop, and he turned to look at me.
“Hey, do you want to meet again for breakfast tomorrow morning?” I smiled at the thought, and nodded.
“I’d like that.” I replied. He smiled, and then he became serious. I did the same. He started to lean in, and I leaned up to follow. He pressed his lips to mine, and for once in a year, I had feeling in my heart aside from emptiness. He pulled away, and looked in my eyes for one last time, then went back inside.
On the entire walk home, I was happy, and I had to stop myself from smiling too much. Chris and our breakfast the next morning was all that was on my mind. Yet, the second I got home, I retreated to my room and cried. I cried and cried until I could not cry anymore. I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, and started writing.
Dear Tom,
I’m so sorry. I’ve betrayed you. I kissed another guy, and I have feelings for him as well, to make it even worse. He asked for plans, a date, tomorrow morning, and I had the nerve to say yes. I am more sorry than I have ever been, and I promise I will go down there and tell him that nothing can happen between us ever again. Please forgive me.
Love always, Cindy
I placed the letter into an envelope, and licked it closed. I scribbled the name I knew best, ever since birth, onto the middle front of the envelope; God.
I placed the letter in my mailbox, and lifted the red flag.
That night, I prayed to God that he would give Tom my letter of apology. I knew that he always watched over me, and I did not want him to remain in heaven as disappointed.
—
The next morning, things changed. I did not have the same memory in my dreams last night, and so I did not wake up crying. I did not feel the urge to caress the ring around my finger either. I was eager to go outside to the mailbox to see if God had taken my letter, but I was saddened to see the red flag up. I placed it down, and opened the mailbox to take back my rejected letter. However, I was surprised to see that this was not my envelope.
In my hand laid a white envelope with an elegant silver design around all the edges. I pulled out a piece of paper from inside it.
My darling Cindy,
You are not forgiven, for you did not do anything wrong. My love for you was the strongest there ever was, and it continues to be that way even when I’m this far away. I am always in your heart, and always looking out for you. A year and one day ago, I promised to love, cherish, and honor you for the rest of eternity.
I’ve sent you an angel to do that for you until I can. Please accept it, and know that I am always here, even if you can’t see me.
Love, Tom.
I held the letter to my heart, and I smiled. I darted my eyes around, and then stopped. I felt a cold spot on my cheek, and much warmth in my heart. For the first time in my life, I closed my eyes, and felt the wind wash over me with bliss.
-xLLSx-
