|
|
|
Cherry blossoms. The most fragile flower I could ever imagine. They lay in her hair, like a veil almost, or a crown of some sort. Her dark hair was tangled with them. Her pale skin glowed in the daylight and it seemed as if she was a star, like from that movie Stardust. But I knew she wasn’t happy, just content with her being. I watched her from afar, sketching her. I was a movie critic that sketched in my free time. Which was usually more spent here, in this park, more than anywhere else. I kept seeing her, day after day, same sot under a huge willow tree near the river. Some of the cherry blossoms from across the way would always blow towards her.
It was funny, because my grandmother aid that when blossoms landed on a single person, that they were meant for the person who noticed. Because, not only were they seeing a beauty that was rarely seen, but they were also seeing the person bloom into beauty with nature. It was something that had stuck with me, but I never believed. Especially now since I was supposed to die soon. The doctors gave me a year to live. I have a tumor in my brain and they said that operating would cause more trouble than help.
I sighed to myself, thinking of what she was thinking about, thinking about what she would say if I asked her on a date. Like a beauty like her would go out with a frog like me. She lived in the same building as I did, right across from me in fact. But we were in two different worlds. I would come back home at night, she would come back home in the morning. The only time we were in the same proximity was when we were either in the park or at the bakery in the casino near the apartments at the same time. She works there and I go there to get something different off the menu each day. She would always smile at me, like she knew what I was doing and why. Her honey colored eyes would show so much warmth that I felt like I was being cleansed just by looking into them.
I loved her eyes, one day I complimented her on them, by mistake of course. She smiled and said that that was what most of her friends said to her. We would have small little chats over the next few months, her being usually her sprite like self; and I, in my usual gloom, knowing I could never be with her because she wouldn’t want someone who was about to die.
However, one day I worked up my courage. She seemed in a great mood for this time of year. It was winter. I the winter, it was always cold and bright outside because of the sun reflecting off of the snow. We always had arguments about things like that. I loved it when things would come to life, she loved it when things would end. She used to say that the only time something was beautiful, was when it was in its end. No one would be able to destroy its purity and meaning then.
I always thought that when something was living, it was the most beautiful because it would be able to evolve and change. It would be able to become something more and would be able to make itself even more attractive as it grew.
As you can tell, we have very different thoughts on life.
But that day, she seemed happy. One day, I found her crying, and I asked her why, because I couldn’t bear to see her in pain. Those honey eyes turning into pools of mud that held no life in them. I could tell it was something bad, but when she spoke, she smiled. She told me about how her father and uncles died a few years ago on that day because they were going to go and see her for thanksgiving. But because it was like the drunken holiday of the year, other than Saint Patrick’s Day, they got into a car crash and died. She blamed herself, but she smiled. She said that it made her stronger because she knew that people would never be around long enough for someone to cherish them while they are alive. That’s why she loves the cold and dead. They have stories and historical values that can’t be tainted on their day of recognition.
I never understood her logic, not until that day when I was going to ask her to be with me. It wouldn’t have been much of a life, but it would have been something. As I was about to ask her, she got a call. My face was, I am sure, contorted into some fiendish grin as I thought of her saying yes. But when she came back, just a few moments later, my expression changed. I don’t know what I looked like, but I know what she looked like. It was burned into my memory. Something that I can never forget.
Her eyes, dead. Her hair, somehow lost its luster and bounce and turned stale and…almost like how a wicked witch would have to look. Her posture, once proud and lady like, was now hunched over and torn. She seemed like she was going to break, like she was going to crumble into a million pieces and join the ancestors that traveled this world. I couldn’t ask her now. I had to know why she changed so dramatically in a matter of minutes.
I followed her. And yes, I am sure I seem like a stalker right about now, maybe sooner than it seems, but I don’t care. She looked as if she needed someone to mold her back into the beautiful and elegant creature she was. After about an hour of following, she stopped at a bridge by the park. I stayed across the street, making sure to seem inconspicuous. She sat on the ledge. I wanted to run and grab her to make sure she wouldn’t jump, but she didn’t look like she was going to jump.
It started to snow, I hate the snow. Everything is so hard to see.
I decided to cross the rode. When I got to where she was, I could barely see her tears. I would have taken off my glasses to wipe them clean of the snow and fog, but I felt like I would have missed something if I did. I could see her pale skin, her full lips were a type of blue instead of their regular rose peach color, and her cheeks her red and tear stained. It seemed as though her tears were diamonds though. The way that they fell upon her face. The way she looked was a piece of art actually. I could tell she seemed…dead…but…I don’t know why, but she seemed even more beautiful now, than I had ever seen her. Was it because she was open to the world, not holding anything back? Or was it because this was my first time seeing her like this? Either way, I could see what she had meant about death and the cold.
I called to her, asking her if she was okay, I spoke softly, but clearly so that she could hear me. I asked again, but she didn’t hear me, so I waved my hand in front of her eyes as if to knock her back into reality. I could see the shock on her face when she whipped her body around to look at me. I think she thought I was a cop or something. But that sudden movement made her fall. When she fell, I jumped.
I saved her, but she and I were both in danger of hypothermia. I was more worried about her than me and stayed by her side even though the doctors said I should stay in my own room. Her pale face, started to glow again. Her hair turned into those lustrous locks that I wished I could twirl my fingers around every morning as I woke up beside her. Her lips turned back into their shade of rose and I was compelled to brush mine against hers to feel her soft petals against my, most likely rough lips.
After a few days, she awoke, she remembered nothing though. She had hit her head on a rock and, from what the doctors said, was living proof of miracles. I stayed with her, and when she finally remembered everything, I explained who I was and why I was there. I left out the part of my loving her, but I made sure to let her know that I was friend and not foe.
When I gained her trust, I asked her why she was on the ledge. She said that her best friends were coming to see her from college for Christmas vacation, but were in a car accident on their way to see her. She blamed herself, just like she had when her father and uncles had died. I stayed with her, trying to get her out of her gloom. It didn’t work well. She always asked why I was with her. She said that if I stayed hat something bad would happen to me. That’s when I told her that I couldn’t lave her, that I was in love with her, that I wanted her to be my last and only love of my life. She looked at me as if I was insane, and then smiled, her eyes going back to their warm honey tone that made the room seem heavenly.
It was Spring, the cherry blossoms had gone all around her that late afternoon. I was pacing back and forth in my study. It had been three years, much longer than the doctors had given me. I decided I would ask Selene to marry me. That’s her name. Selene.
As I went out to the garden in our backyard, I could see she was nervous. I asked her what was wrong as I sat next to her. I could see it on her face, in her eyes. She held up a pregnancy test ad I smiled brightly. I was so happy at that moment, that it was the last thing I remember.
I know that my tumor must have killed me, but I know I should remember more than that. I should have felt pain or something…but all I remember is the smile on her face, the whispered “I love you”, and me saying that I would never leave her.
But I did, and I know that she knows that I am with her. In her heart, and never truly gone.
 Beware-Mutated_Zombies · Sun Apr 20, 2008 @ 04:56am · 3 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
