by H. I. Defaz
I paused for a moment, realizing how neurotic I was beginning to sound. But the throbbing pain in my head reminded me that at this juncture in my life, being neurotic was just good common sense, so I continued. “All night I've been fighting this impulse, this urge, to reach out to you and hold you. I have this irrational feeling deep inside my chest that makes me want to protect you, that makes me want to be near you. I feel a connection that I can neither explain nor control. I've been racking my brain, running the numbers, trying to understand what I'm feeling here. But I can't find an answer.
“All I know is that these past few hours have been the happiest I've felt in a long time—if not ever.” My vision blurred with the tears I could no longer suppress, and the knot stuck in my throat was too thick to swallow. But somehow I managed to keep it all in. “My father spoke to me of a sign that would lead me to my happiness. I believe that sign brought me here. I believe that sign brought me to you. I wish I could've told you all this differently. Over dinner, maybe, in a beautiful restaurant, holding your hand, after dating you for some time. But time is a luxury we no longer have. And if I'm to die tomorrow, I want to know that I can go with no regrets. Telling you exactly what I'm feeling at this moment is the only way I can do that.”
The silence that followed my words allowed me to take a breather and rearrange my thoughts. And though I knew I'd spoken from the heart, I couldn't help but fear that my blunt display of candor might be misconstrued as the cry of a psycho ex-boyfriend. So I decided to stop embarrassing myself and leave—as I probably should have from the beginning. “I'm sorry,” I apologized. “I'll leave you alone, now, okay?” I turned around and took my first step out of there.
“Wait!” she called swiftly.
I stifled a sigh and turned around to face her again. She was on her feet now.
“That's it? Really? You're going to drop that bomb on me and just leave me here in the middle of the night?”
I shifted uneasily, trying to decide what to say. Finally, I shoved my hands into my pockets to steady myself, and let go of the first thing I had on my mind. “I know it sounds crazy, but I only said what I thought needed to be said… for me.”
“What about me?” she asked, a thread of outrage in her tone. “Don't I have a say?”
I kept my gaze fixed on the ground, too mortified to look her in the eye again. “Well, you probably think I'm crazy. And that everything I just said is nothing but a—”
“Stop!” she protested, her voice angry now. “Don't do that! Don't presume to know what I'm thinking! It drives me crazy—it always did! Just do me a favor and just…just stay there! And don't move or speak or… I need to think.”
I stood there quietly, like a reprimanded child, while she paced awkwardly in front of me. She finally stopped after what felt like hours, but in reality couldn't have been more than a few minutes. I looked up to see her leaning backwards against the tree, her eyes raised to the night sky. I could see the aurora glowing upon her face.
“When you saw me in the presentation room…” she asked cautiously, “Did you feel this… connection then?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.
She nodded softly, her face unreadable. And though her eyes seemed occupied with the aurora, her stare held complete emptiness. “Do you remember what happened in the old armoire after what you said to me?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper now.
“Of course,” I answered solemnly.
Her eyes abandoned the mesmerizing aurora and locked directly onto mine. “Tell me,” she demanded.
“Why? You were telling this story better than I ever could have.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “But this part I'd like to relive through your eyes.”
“All right,” I agreed, retracing my thoughts back to that gloomy summer night in Jersey. “After what I said,” I began, “I heard my dad's voice coming from upstairs. I knew it was over, because I knew that once he was in front of me, I'd never be able to disobey him. So I turned on my flashlight, thinking that was probably the last time I'd ever see you. It broke my heart when I saw tears running down your face. I tried to wipe them all away, but they just kept coming. I remember running my fingers through your hair, asking you to please don't cry. Then I promised you that no matter what, I would never forget you... because you would always be in my heart. And then I put my hand over the closet door, ready to turn myself in, but you stopped me. You pulled me close to you and said…”
I paused briefly, with an elated smile, lost in the memory. “...You said: You never break your promises. Don't break this one. Don't forget about me. And I promise you, I will always be your girl. And then we kissed, for the first time.” I stopped then and sighed wistfully. My eyes, freed of reminiscence now, sought reaction from hers; but Yvette's eyes were lost in the vastness of the night sky again.
“You were my first kiss too,” she said finally, with a faint smile on her face.
“I know.” My voice held no doubt.
Her eyes slid back to me then, with a hint of regret in them, her smile gone. “Then you know I didn't mean what I said before, right? About us having a stupid pre-teen cr—”
“I know,” I interjected quickly.
“Good,” she breathed. “Because nothing could be farther from the truth. And I wouldn't want you to think that's how I remembered us.” She paused. “I wanted to hear my own words from you, because—much like yours—they needed to be confirmed as true... just as you've done. Thank you for that,” she whispered, turning back to me with a determined look on her face, her hands behind her back as she leaned backwards against the tree. “I want to tell you something that will probably just complicate things even more. But like you said, some things just need to be said. Especially when you don't know if tomorrow will ever come for you. So here goes.”
She took a deep breath and continued. “This morning I peeked over the reception desk and, uh... I saw your name on the list. At first, I thought it was someone else with the same name. But then, when I saw you in the presentation room, I knew it was you.” She smiled gently. “…My Victor. The one who use to fight bullies at school just to keep me safe... The one who made me so jealous when he let stupid Heather Thompson touch his beautiful, feathered hair in the fifth grade.” She chuckled, but solemnity returned to her voice in a flash as she continued. “The one who'd cry with me whenever I felt sad... The one who never got tired of telling me how beautiful he thought I was... The one I used to dream would come and wake me from my nightmares and tell me: I've come to take you with me.”
She paused, sniffling back some tears. “The truth is that you left a huge hole in my heart, Victor. And I'd be lying if I'd told you I didn't feel the same inexplicable urge to run to you and hug you the moment I saw you walking through that door. I did. I almost felt as if I was entitled to.” She shook her head, as if trying to regain some measure of courage. But then she looked up and bored into my soul with those mesmerizing blue eyes of hers, as if determined to finish what she needed to say. “And that connection you were talking about…?” She sighed. “I feel it, too.”
I stood there in shock; and though her words had brought me a flood of happiness, they had also managed to elevate the rhythm of my young ticker to a distressing jackhammering mode that I was afraid she'd be able to hear.
“So there!” she continued nervously. “Now we've expressed our feelings—exposed the truth. Now, if we die tomorrow... Well, then at least we'll do so in the knowledge that we haven't kept that knowledge from each other, right?” Her voice sounded desperately eager to justify our current behavior.
“Yes,” I breathed. “But... what if we live?”
“Ha!” She blushed and hesitated sheepishly before saying, “If we live? Yeah, well, if we live...” She considered for a moment, and smiled. “Then I guess tomorrow will be the most awkward day of our entire lives.”
We both broke out laughing then. Her hand flew to her face, cupping her mouth with embarrassment. S
he rolled her eyes at me and waved her other hand, as if blaming me for the awkward moment. For me, it was a treat to watch this blushing angel laughing in all her splendor.
“But at least we'll be able to spend that life together,” I told her, and she stopped laughing abruptly, her eyes glistening green-flecked pools in the aurora light.
“So...” she said, her voice meaningful again, “can your numbers or scientific method make sense of any of this? I mean, is it normal, or even possible, for two people who haven't seen each other for a decade to stumble upon each other in such an unusual out-of-the-way environment, under circumstances like these, and feel the exact same thing at the exact same moment?”
“I don't know,” I admitted.
Yvette smiled, as if pleased by my earnest response. “I like that,” she whispered.
“What's that?”
“Your honesty,” she said, capturing my eyes with a gentle glance, her smile so faint as to be almost unnoticeable now. “I always loved that about you. Your confidence, your loyalty, your courage, and even your stubbornness.” She snickered softly. “I love the fact that you were once an Eagle Scout... And that you named a star after me for my eleventh birthday. I love that you once helped me bake my favorite pastry, although we almost burnt down the house.”
We both laughed again, wishing we could return to that simple time. “I love the fact that you never left your dad,” she continued, “especially when he needed you the most.” Her eyes dampened then. “That shows the wonderful person you are. But what I really, really love the most is that you're still the same Victor I knew.” She paused, piercing me with her eyes, her lips trembling. “I guess what I'm trying to say is that I... I loved you, too, Victor—I always did.”
Her words made my heart skip another beat, while one of her trapped tears finally escaped from the corner of her eye. The clear droplet rolled gently down the side of her adorable heart-shaped face as her lips gave me the most genuine smile I'd ever seen.
I sighed with wonderment at my angel, lost in her beauty.
A profound silence had engulfed the entire meadow when an extraordinary thing happened. And I'm not talking about the aurora—which began to glow even brighter and greener than before—but a surreal connection that compelled our eyes to lock in an unbreakable stare, in which I felt my soul being sucked in by her eyes and hers by mine.
I'd be remiss not to clarify that what happened then was something much more profound than a mere romantic moment. A voiceless feeling began to well up in my heart, telling me that I no longer belonged to myself, but to Yvette. It was hard for me to accept what I was experiencing, given my predisposition toward logical reasoning. But I had to admit that whatever was happening to me shook my beliefs and everything I ever thought I knew to the core, leaving me with nothing but my father's transcendental beliefs—which were never my strong suit. Nevertheless, I considered the possibilities.
When our eyes were finally released from this trance, we sighed and smiled at each other with disbelief. Our mirrored reaction to the event let us both know that the experience had been shared equally —and that something inside us had been set right forever. We tried to pull ourselves together, but it took us a few minutes to actually shake our wonderment. Even when we did, we couldn't stop smiling.
“What just happened?” Yvette whispered, her expression bewildered.
“I have no idea,” I said just as softly, taken aback by the strange experience. “But it was amazing,” I added.
Yvette agreed with me with a vigorous nod.
I became dazed the moment I discovered that two amazingly powerful feelings lingered from this peculiar event. One was an extraordinary mixture of happiness and relief, as if a maddening emptiness in my chest had been finally refilled. The second was the familiar, yet compelling impulse to reach out for Yvette and hold her tightly in my arms—a feeling now increased tenfold by this inexplicable thing that had passed between us. Confounded by my own thoughts, I closed my eyes and fought to restrain it, thinking I was the only one having it. But soon, Yvette alerted me otherwise.
“Did you feel it, too?” she asked innocently, wide-eyed. “The relief? The entireness? The... happiness?” Her question not only gave a matching description of what I had just felt, but made me realize that we were sharing the same feelings even as we spoke. I nodded in response, too dumbfounded to use words—and kept controlling my impulse to lunge towards my dazed angel, who now seemed jittery, bouncing gently on her ballerina toes, showing an obviously forced constraint. “Do you also feel the same need to—?”
“Yes!” I confessed bluntly, before she could finish the unneeded question. It was clear now that we both shared the same overwhelming desire for physical contact, and there was no use denying it. I took a few steps, cautiously, in her direction and extended my hand to hers, my heart racing like an out-of-control engine. “Would you mind terribly if I just—?”
“No,” she interjected swiftly, approving my request before my words were uttered, as if letting me know that it was no more needed than her own unfinished question.
I walked to her then, an open hand in front of me, watching her chest rise and fall faster with every step I took. She looked down at my hand the moment I stopped in front of her, and smiled. Then, she pushed herself off the tree with one graceful move and brought her hands from behind her back, our bodies just inches away now. My world stopped spinning the moment I felt her dainty hand slowly slip into mine. For the first time in my life, everything became clear and right. I understood, somehow, that this moment was the reason why my heart had not given up on me yet.
I closed my eyes then and leaned my forehead against hers, as if tired from a lifelong journey. She seemed to feel the same way. A deep, mutual sigh of relief finally escaped our lips when our arms slid around each other in a tight and powerful embrace that lasted for the longest moment of my life. It was a moment in which we forgot about everything; who we were, where we were, and why. For that moment on, we felt no pain, sadness, or despair. All we could feel was our warmth, and a feeling neither of us knew much about: happiness. We were no longer nervous about being with each other. On the contrary, we found ourselves in a familiar place. Being with each other made us feel safe; it made us feel at home.
“I've missed you, Victor,” she said, her face pressed against my chest.
“I've missed you,” I whispered, my voice filled with emotion, “But that's over now. I promise.” I softened my hug and leaned backwards to try and see her angelic face again, but her arms tightened around my waist like a grapple, making me resume my loving embrace. I smiled uncomplainingly.
“Don't,” she grumbled. “Don't let go. I don't want to wake up just yet.” Her voice was nearly a whisper.
“This isn't a dream, Yvee.” I assured her, but my words only made her hug tighten.
“Then how do you explain what's happening to us?”
“I don't. I can't.”
“Yeah, but... Is it normal?”
I chuckled, realizing the truth—our truth. “We don't need it to be normal. We only need it to be real.” I curled my finger under her chin and lifted her head as I lowered mine to her eye level. “And it is. I promise.”
She smiled coyly. “I should know by now that you always keep your promises.”
“Will you keep yours?” I asked profoundly.
She gasped and smiled, embarrassed—her face flushed again. But then her smile softened and her eyes opened with a sincerity I've never seen before in anyone. “Yes,” she said, running her fingers through my hair, her blue eyes scanning my very soul. “I'll always be your girl. I promised.”
The aurora went haywire then, as if stirred by our emotions, painting its wondrous green hues upon our faces as our lips reached for each other in a slow, teasing dance. I couldn't think of anything more perfect than when her tender lips brushed timidly against mine. It was like gliding my lips over the petals of a velvety red rose after a morning drizzle. I could've died happ
y at that moment, and I still know that life itself couldn't possibly be any better than what I felt then. My heart had never beaten so fast—and yet, it had never been so peaceful. And I was close enough to feel hers, too—beating at the same rate as mine.
We finally consummated our kiss, opening ourselves completely to the overpowering feeling that came from us being together. Our hearts exchanged in the process. We moved apart, slowly, but just enough to lock our gaze—enough to reassure ourselves that we weren't dreaming. We held hands, completely breathless, and gazed into each other's eyes, no longer caring for answers.
Never before had I believed in the existence of soul mates—until our fingers, unintentionally, interlocked in a perfect fit, like two pieces of a puzzle that had finally been brought together. We held each other tightly then, as if we were never letting go, as if we had been waiting for this moment for our entire lives—because somehow, in this confusing, cruel, and hurtful world, we had finally found each other. She rested her head on my chest and words were no longer necessary. We had felt everything that needed to be said. We knew we hadn't lived long, and we knew we might not have much longer to live, either. But that night, we let go of our sorrows. We lived in the moment, as if it were the first and the last of our uncertain lives.
That night we lived a lifetime under the weeping willow tree.
“You're cold,” I whispered finally, with a faint smile. “Maybe we should call it a night.”
“Our night has just begun,” she said softly. “Let's stay a while.”
Chapter Six
The Procedure
AFTER THE INEXPLICABLE phenomenon that made us throw our inhibitions to the wind and rekindle the love we once felt for each other, Yvette and I found ourselves yearning for a future that we could only hope would come. Sitting side by side under the weeping willow, we floated off into reverie and talked about the dreams we wanted to accomplish, should Dr. Walker's miracle cure give us another chance to live. Yvette talked about finding her father, which to me sounded like a complete waste of a dream. I mean, why would you try to find someone who doesn't want to be found?—or worse, someone who'd never try to find you?