Part 1

DAWN

Love to me, is like music. A wondrous love would equate to a really good song. Where every element, every instrument combines well with each other, creating a beautiful song that knows no bounds. Going by my musical tastes, my love, is a soothing yet eerie song. A symphonic metal song, where the fast and loud beat is combined with classical and gothic elements, the lyrics sung to perfection by an angel. The fast, rocking beat indicates the tumultuous road that every relationship takes, angry quarrels and fights, the crying, the inevitable bumps on the road. The gothic sound brings the darkness of every relationship into play. The secrets kept, the fears, and the strangeness and quirks that occur. The classical sound, the pianos, violins, flutes, is the soothing part of it all. The comfort, and the sweetness of the love. The lyrics, well they detail every single thing. The words that make the song form the story of the relationship. It tells of every single waking moment, brings to life all the underlying meanings and sounds that the other elements hint at. Lastly, there is the main melody. This depicts the feelings for each other. A strong, beautiful melody is a strong, beautiful relationship.

The song I have now is perfect and has been playing for five years now. I was seventeen when we first met. He was twenty. The one thing I remembered about him off our first meeting was how shy he was. He would mumble his replies; sneak peeks at me and quickly turn away when I caught him looking. I would smile whenever he did so, and he would blush. It was as though I was the guy and he the girl. With the others around however, he was funny and intelligent, still is, with a sarcastic humor that I grew to find endearing.

To speak the truth, I wasn’t attracted to him at first. I liked who I saw he was, but there were a million guys out there like him. He was nothing special. I wanted someone special. I wanted someone with whom I could write a beautiful song. At the point, we were not harmonizing.

Then the dear boy started giving me reasons to notice him. Mind you, he wasn’t doing it intentionally. My Zach isn’t the kind who shows off on purpose. Anyway, my friends and I were seated at a table, just chit-chatting and gossiping about the latest campus scandals. He was seated at the next table with his friends, working on some sort of project. We had just hit a lapse in our conversation, so our table was quiet. I overheard one of his friends asking him how a certain song went. The next thing I knew, I was sitting there, hand gripping the edge of the table, listening in rapt enchantment. The boy can sing, and that was the first of many things that started to attract me to him.

The more I saw him, the more I learned about him, both good and bad. Over time, all his little quirks and personality was open to me. He didn’t show them to me intentionally. It only happened that I was there to catch sight or hear what was going on.

There was a time when I happened to catch a conversation between him and one of his friends. She was troubled and depressed, and he was there to lend her his shoulder and whatever else she needed. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but hearing him comfort her and telling her he wished he could take it all away from her made me wish that I was the one he was comforting. He had a way with words, and he was sincere and truly caring. My heart melted then and I knew I was smitten.

So over time we somehow became friends. Not acquaintances through our mutual groups of friends, but true friends. He somehow, in his shy and weird manner, managed to hold a conversation with me during one of our group outings. We were talking about music, that which I hold so dear, and that which he did so well. He then, after many hints on my part and much hesitation and stammering, asked for my phone number. I willingly gave it to him, with my blessings to call whenever he liked. Thus began our journey to where we are now.

We would spend many nights talking over the phone about our mutual interests and pretty much everything under the sun. I found him to be a wealth of knowledge, knowing little snippets of information here and there. Pretty soon, we had developed a relationship without even knowing. We knew so much about each other, because we had opened up to each other unknowingly. People around us started to talk and tease us about how close we were and whether we were secretly dating. I liked the teasing. I liked it a lot, and that was what put the dread in my heart.

Although I liked him immensely, I was on the mindset then, that I would not get into a relationship until I finished my scholastic pursuits. I wanted to do well, be the best I could before anything else. It was a goal I had written years back, and it wrought havoc in my mind and more seriously, my heart.

Everyday I would ask myself if a relationship would hinder my achievements. Everyday I would ponder and wonder. Could I handle them both? Was I ready to undertake this? I frustrated myself over and over with the same questions. Then one night, I lay on my bed, took in a deep breath, blew it out, and told myself, no. I wasn’t ready. I had to focus myself on one thing and one thing only. There was no room for anything else yet.

His face was one of total dismay when I told him about it. He looked broken, dejected and a total wreck. His face lost that sense of life I held so dear. I felt like crying and killing myself. How could I do such a thing to him? I offered a way out. Was he willing to wait until I graduated? Could he wait those three long years? Just three years, and I was all his. He looked at me with broken eyes, a slight glint returning because there was some form of hope left, smiled a weak smile, and said, “I’ll wait.”

It was a hell of a three years. We managed to keep a strangled friendship together, we spoke, but there was this sense of distance between us, as though we both did not want to get too close once more. The sense was like that of a song gone wrong, like how some songs start off really well, yet end on a really bad note. This was beginning to sound like one of those songs. I was worried, afraid that I was losing him. We hardly saw each other, only conversing on the phone when we were free. Maybe he was losing interest and couldn’t care less anymore. It affected me, but somehow I steeled myself against it, pushed it out of my mind the same way I pushed my feelings for him aside, and focused myself on what I felt was important.

I graduated top of my year. It was undoubtedly one of the best points of my life. All that I had given up was worth it, and now things could only get better. My heart raced. Would he accept me now? Or had he given up? The first thing I did after my ceremony was look for him. I found him, skulking in a corner, silently staring into nothing. He had that weird faraway look he always had, and his head was tilted slightly to the side. A habit I found endearing.

So I walked up to him, and he awoke from his revelry. He looked me in the eyes, his filled with pride and hope, mine filling with tears. Bursting out in sobs, leaned my head upon his shoulder, and let loose a waterfall of tears unlike any other. All the waiting, the pain, the fear, the feelings, everything, had culminated into this one good cry.

What he did was just stand there, holding me. And in that gesture, spoke to me. It said, “I’m here for you now, and always will be.”

So that’s the story of how everything started. Growing feelings stunted by selfish dreams that eventually were allowed to blossom. It could have broken anytime. He could have left anytime, but he held on. I guess he saw something between us that he liked, something he thought was worth waiting for, and I guess he guessed right. What we have now was made stronger thanks to that ordeal. That period of having to hold off each other and pushing aside everything we were together and living as two different entities for the moment. Yet now we are one. This beautiful piece of music that is my life resonates around me every waking moment and within every dream. I have no more nightmares. He chased them all away. We no longer sing separate arias. Ours is a brilliant duet.

In a few days, those years will number six. Like every year, all I want to do is spend time with him on that day. We buy each other gifts, but those are secondary. Those are nothing if either of us is not around the share the day. I seek a gift still though. That little token to brighten up the day. Make things a little more exciting. So I’m shopping around, looking for something that represents us.

The lights turn green, and I cross the road…

Part 2

ZACH

And she entered my life; brought to life a feeling I had never felt before. It happened the moment I laid my eyes on her, and till now, that feeling has never left, no matter what happened. Was it love at first sight? I don’t know. All I know is that when I saw her, something inside me awoke. I had never paid much attention to girls. I was more attentive to my own interests. Oh I appreciated pretty girls and all, but I had never thought of having a relationship with anyone. Girls were to me then, candy for my eyes, nothing more.

Then she appeared, and everything changed. She with her shoulder length hair that resembled sea waves whenever she moved, framing a small, round face with large eyes that exuded laughter. She was petite, and looked so fragile, prompting the male instinct within me to scream out, “I want to protect her!” Little did I know that within that petite frame was a girl of strength. She didn’t need anyone to protect her. All the same, I took it upon myself to make sure she never came to harm, and always had someone there for her, namely me.

We have a little game we always play. We will ask each other questions, and can only use song lyrics as answers. I remember one time, she was asking a lot of frivolous questions, trying to stump me so she would win. We were walking along the pavement when she tripped over a section of pavement that was jutting upwards. I immediately grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up. For a few seconds we just stood there, my arm around her, her hands grabbing me tightly, her faced all scrunched up and her eyes closed. She looked so cute then. Slowly her face relaxed, but her eyes were still closed, and she asked me, “What would you do if I fall?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you,” was my reply.

She smiled then, a smile that I remember till today. It was a smile that told me, I trust you, and I know you’ll keep your word. That line, that song lyric, would form the backbone of our relationship.

All the times she needed me, I was there. When her grandmother passed away, I stood by her side, held her hand, watched her cry and rocked her to sleep. When she botched up an interview for a job she really wanted, I was there, letting her loose her frustration upon me. When she broke her arm in a fall, I stayed with her in the hospital, never leaving her side.

Dawn has the innate ability to shop like crazy. Her money is always spent on that cute top or that funky skirt or those irresistible shoes. Her gravestone will probably be inscribed with the words: “a shopper of great renown”. And that’s just on a normal day. When angry or sad, my angel will turn into the devil that wants everything. She calls it therapeutic. I call it a waste of money. What she buys usually ends up rotting somewhere after a couple of uses, making way for something new.

The grandmother of all our fights and quarrels was one that involved one of her insane shopping sprees, as well as some fault on my part. One thing led to another. Well, it all began when I refused to go clubbing with her and her friends. She pleaded constantly, but I stubbornly said no. You see, I’m an extremely stubborn person. Once I’ve set my mind on something, it is set in stone. Nothing short of a bulldozer or a wrecking ball can move or break it. Clubbing is not my thing. So she storms off like a little storm cloud, and the next day, goes on a shopping spree unlike any other. When finally she had cooled down enough to see me again, I was shocked at the mini shopping center she had purchased, and speechless at the amount of money she had spent. Two thousand dollars! She had that smug look on her face that said this was all done to spite me. She knows I can’t stand how she spends so much money. Angrily, I told her off.

Her smug look faded, and we started screaming and shouting at each other, neither giving way, neither giving up. She called me a stubborn fool; I called her a crazy bitch. She screamed that I never did anything she wanted, that I never wanted to meet her friends. I shouted back that she can’t make me do things that I don’t want to do, that everything was always about her, that she thought money dropped from the sky. She screamed back that she could do whatever she wanted with her money and I couldn’t do a thing about it. That was pretty much when my anger turned cold, and I said in a quiet, icy tone, that if that was the way she wanted things, then she could go on doing whatever she wanted, and I wouldn’t do anything at all. I walked out of her room and left her house.

I guess she realized that I meant what I said at the end. That somehow, not shouting it at her meant that it wasn’t said in anger. She ran after me, tears streaming down her face, and when she caught up to me, grabbed my hand, turned me around and wrapped her hands around me so tight that I almost couldn’t breathe. Don’t go, she said, her head pressed hard against my chest. Don’t ever go.

That was probably the closest we had ever came to breaking up. From then on, we would quarrel and fight, but none would imply a meaning to break up. I am as stubborn and boring as ever, she is as party loving, hot-tempered and spendthrift as ever. I guess both of us lack an ability to change. What we do have is an ability to adapt. What we have is special, and I wouldn’t give it back for the world.

Yet there are two sides to Dawn. What others see, is the Dawn that is fun loving, generous, caring, hardworking, smart, beautiful and all sunshine and light. What I see, is what the others see, as well as a Dawn that is angry, tired, cynical, jealous and given to momentary slights of darkness. All that she is, I’ve seen. All that she can become, I’ve faced. I love her still, and that’s all that I need.

Sometimes I think I know life’s greatest joy when I’m with her. For all the stupid things that happen, all the ugly fights, there is always moments of bliss. To just be able to sit there with her in my arms is sometimes all that I want. Nothing more. She is that one key thing in my life. I need nothing else.

Even though she enjoys her fun and adventure, she is too, like me, a hopeless romantic. We enjoy our quiet walks along the beach, our stargazing, and our little games that only we play. Even though these might be a tad boring, I guess it isn’t what is being done, but the company that counts the most.

And so I sit here in my room, thinking my happy thoughts of her. I called her a while ago. She’s shopping for my anniversary gift. As much as I want to see her, I don’t think she’ll want me there. So I’ll allow her this brief moment of respite from me.

I pry myself off my chair, and leave my room.

Part 3

ANNIVERSARY

Today’s the day. We celebrate our sixth year together. I’m on my way to see her. I’ve never bought jewelry for her; always unsure what to buy, and the price of these things always intimidate me. No matter how much I browse, it’s always like there’s so much to choose from, and soon I become unsure which would be perfect. This year however, I believe I’ve found the perfect one. It set me back quite a bit, but I guess it’s worth it. I saw it a couple of weeks back, and staring at it only made it seem more and more perfect. It’s a pendant, made from white gold, in the shape of a star and filled with diamonds.

I wrote her something as well. I guess thinking back on our relationship made me relive everything once more, and all that reminiscing culminated into a need to tell her how much I love her. She’s a special one, and she should know, because without her, my life would be different.

There she is, as beautiful as ever. That picture of her shows so much of her that is beautiful. Her radiant smile, her gaiety, her sunshine and light.

I never made it in time. The driver of the car was having a phone conversation whilst driving, and never saw the light turn red. He slammed right into her and sent her flying. Her back was badly injured and her head suffered intense trauma. Her skull was broken and bleeding within. The doctors said that she should have died on the spot, but somehow, lived just that little longer, enough to get her to a hospital, enough for her parents to see her breathe her last. I never made it in time.

Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference, her being unconscious while still alive. She wouldn’t have known if I was there. But I guess to me, it means a great difference whether or not she was breathing when I arrived. Maybe she could still hear me. Just hear me say goodbye.

What pains me the most, is that in her time of greatest need, when her fall was the worst, I wasn’t there to catch her. I broke my promise. That one singular promise that meant so much to our relationship. That one promise that I sought to uphold. And even if I couldn’t stop the accident, I should have been the one there to cradle her in my arms as she laid there, her life ebbing out of her. I should have been the one to hold her and rock her softly as she slowly entered the dark unknown we call death. But I wasn’t there. All I could do was hold her lifeless hand, and kiss her forehead lightly as I bade goodbye to the one and only girl in my life.

It’s strange actually. They say that when someone you love, your other half, passes away, it feels as though one half of your soul or your being is painfully ripped out from within you. I felt no pain. There was no ripping of my soul. Perhaps it’s because she didn’t leave. She still lives strongly within me. A nice, lingering presence, bring back memory after memory, eliciting smiles and tears from me. And there she’ll always stay.

I place her present, wrapped in black paper and tied with a white ribbon, before her gravestone. The letter I place next to the present. I smile unconsciously, as I look at her smiling face, leaning against the gravestone. Tears make a tiny path down my face. I sit cross-legged on the ground, and in a shaky voice, start to sing the song that meant so much to us.
I finish my song, and hear footsteps behind me. Her parents are here. Her mother smiles at me, and tells me that was beautiful. I smile sadly at her, and her father places his hand upon my shoulder and squeezes it. I turn back towards her, and I just sit there, staring.

I will never need anything to remind me of her. She is still all that matters to me. I will live her share of life for her. Will I find someone else? It’s too early to say, because right now I will tell you no, that I still love her, that I always will. And even if I did move on, I will never love anyone as much as I did her. And if so, what’s the point? Nobody can ever take her place. No one at all. She’s still my everything. This love transcends death.

My only wish is that wherever she went to, there was someone there to catch her. Fulfill the promise that I couldn’t keep. Make her fall easier.

Goodbye my angel.

* * *

You’ve always called me your angel. Maybe now finally I can be as such.

END