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.
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.
posted by Kevin @ 8:02 PM
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