"Promise me that you'd never shed a tear when you think of me, pinky swear?”
Her rich laugh echoes, quite contagious as it has me grinning from ear to ear like a teenager. And with each passing minute, her voice fades away.
The Aeolian sound of the dry wind as it sweeps over the earth and the soft rustling of wittered leaves makes me vulnerable. It's about a year since I met my first love, beautiful and bubbly red-haired Sam.
I go over to my clumsy study, pick up an album, about the size of a medium-sized journal, and dust cobwebs from it. Blowing off what's left of the dust, I admire the now bright purple polished cover.
I bring it closer and start going through the pages, each thickly laced with beautiful memories.
I flip.
The first picture has me giggling, it's a picture of me feeding my grandma's chickens and terrified as hell. Suddenly, a bird advances towards me, greedily. When I try to shush it, it goes aggressive and strikes, tumbling me over and heaping the feed on me, feeding off me.
I flip.
I clutch my stomach, as it hurts from intense laughter. The second is of me milking the cow, it's almost like I'm unfortunate with animals. I get kicked by the mother cow and have her milk poured on me, soaking me to my pants.
And it's as though she trails me and captures my worst moment to torment me for a lifetime.
I flip.
The image of a rusty brown leaf, as it dances in the air before it takes its landing. In green vivid flashes, I recount the moment.
“Hello.”
The shutter of her camera clicks before she turns towards the distraction.
"Hello.” She smiles.
"Why the leaf?" I ask stupidly, but then I need to say something... anything.
She looks down at the once-floating leaf. “It whispers to me, dancing happily before the fall... just like me.”
“Oh.” I shrug, her words more than vague. “I'm Thorne.”
"I know." She chuckles and returns to what she was doing.
I'm mute, before touching my face to tell if I'm in a clown’s costume.
“How did you know? We've never talked before.” I stop before I give myself away cheaply. Thousands of times, I would steal glances at her whenever I could, more like a secret admirer... she's the first girl to make me feel this way... dumb.
“You make me laugh. I've watched through my window how you risk your life for those chickens daily, and you don’t seem to get it right.” She continues laughing.
My face is flushed with embarrassment. Not a nice way to get introduced by your crush.
“Don’t feel sad.” She looks at me. "I look forward to it every day. It's like my candle in the dark.”
"Right." I say. Not sure if to accept the compliment.
“How about we meet tomorrow, and I teach you how to feed the birds?” She proposes.
"And what do you get in return?" I inquire.
“Ice cream, and...” She thinks long and hard. "...and a chance to be with you.”
With that, she hangs her camera around her neck and walks away. "I'm Sam by the way.” She half yells.
That day has me wrapping myself up in shame. Against my grandma's instructions, I let her chickens starve and avoid her window view. I would bury myself alive if I made another mess.
And when the horrible date dawns, I dress in my most impressive way, a second chance would save my lifetime. She appears, making a grand entrance with her simple but exquisite dress, the sea blue color a perfect match with her deep blue irises. Her beauty has the neighborhood blooming and likewise Texas.
She teaches me how to feed the birds, and when I sense the aggressive one coming for me again, I run behind her, shielding myself shamefully.
That, she laughs hard about, the same laughter that echoes in my soul.
I flip.
The next image is of me messing myself up with ice cream.
As promised, we visit McDonald's and order a huge bowl of her favorite ice cream; vanilla, and strawberry... what better time to show off than now?
“Don't be mad at me, I want to show you something.”
I pause, scared I will go beneath the table.
When I don't respond, she shows me her album regardless, with the tons of embarrassing images she made of me.
Unsure whether to bury my head or run out, I cough out the ice cream I had stuffed in my mouth, yielding to reflex. Just then, I hear the sound of her shutter. Looking down, I see how messed up I am, a toddler would be proud.
I flip.
This one has me blunt, void of emotions. It's a picture of us in front of a Bellwether gallery. I had forced her to submit her work for exhibition after going through tons of her epic creations. For months, we went the whole of Texas, submitting her entries and getting rejected, she's about to give up until this.
"I'm certain you will get it, you're as beautifully creative as you look.” I tease.
She blushes.
"It's just you exaggerating.”
“No.” I defend. "It would only take a month to prove you wrong, and you will be here for your art tour, signing your autograph and taking pictures.”
"Even if it does hit, I may not be available to pose for a pic.”
“Common, you can't be too busy for the best moment of your life.”
She looks at me. "Now, is the best moment of my life, we should capture it.”
A nice passer-by agrees to give us a shot. She stands in front of me, and I wrap her in a bear hug. Once and then twice, the shutter clicks. When I face her, she tiptoes and presses a kiss on my lips.
A soft feather-like kiss. She stole my first kiss and my heart as well.
The Aeolian sound of the wind intensifies, drawing my attention. Its invisible and powerful wings have my window shutting and opening recklessly with every command.
I drop the journal and stroll to the window to lock it up.
The dry wind brings along dust, forcing me to shut my eyes. When I finally open it after a series of intense itching, I see a leaf fall off its branch, as it dances to the sound of the wind.
With a strong whoosh, it floats in my direction, lands on my window pane, and seizes to exist.
“It whispers to me, dancing happily before the fall, just like me.”
I pick it up, my hands quivering immensely.
"Promise me that you'd never shed a tear when you think of me, pinky swear?”
Against her wish, a teardrop escapes my eye, trickles down my cheek, splashes on the leaf, and dampens it, leaving a visible patch.
Even more, my hand quivers.
The images of her in a hospital bed and covered with the hospital's garment haunt me. She's plugged to a life support, and draped in an oxygen tent, as she battles end stage brain tumor.
For the first time, she's absolutely vulnerable. She takes off her red-colored wig, revealing her scalp that's now shaved. I wrap her up in a smoldering hug, hoping it's all surreal.
With her consent, I take her camera and then her photo. The very first time I snapped her was in her worst moment. My heart bleeds.
My phone beeps. I pull it out of the back pocket of my pants and read the text that pops up.
'Hello, Thorne. I hope this meets you right. We've been trying for weeks now to reach out to Sam, but she's yet to respond. We thought to reach her through you, seeing your contact in her profile.
Congratulations to her, her craft got in the exhibition, and we do hope she would turn up for the tour.
Best regards,
CEO Bellwether.’
Unable to hold the pent-up emotions, I sob like a child. It's been a year since I met my first love, three months since she stole my heart with my first kiss, and two weeks since I was left heartbroken.
Wiping off my tears, I go to my sitting room. The portrait of us standing gracefully in front of Bellwether Gallery with her stealing a kiss erects. I pick it up and plant a soft kiss on her cheek, in loving memories of her spontaneity and warmth.
Setting it down, I place the leaf, patched from the scorching sun that's now dampened from my teardrop in front of the portrait, hoping our memories would give her comfort like the teardrop does the leaf, and she would remember me wherever she is.
If eventually she does think about me, I hope it's not of me taking her last photo, but of her peering down through her window and taking embarrassing shots of me in secret.
Putting my phone back in my pocket, I head to the attic, to bring out feed for my grandma's chickens.
One thing that gladens me, is that I never learnt her act of wooing animals. Probably, she might be looking down through her window and forward to this moment, to see her 'candle in the dark’, and I hope she finds fun in my mess, my beautiful and bubbly red-haired Sam.
