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She knew her life was very different than those of the kids at school. She never had a lot of friends and was never especially popular, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She was used to being a loner and spent most of her time that way. Her life was like a record that had been put on loop, monotonously playing out the same actions until, one day, a walk home from school pinpointed her life in a totally different direction.
She was aware that new people had moved into the house parallel to her own. The moving trucks had come early one Saturday morning as she sat alone on top of the hill. The men spent the day unloading their stuff, box by box. She recalled that a new 1972 Chevrolet Impala sat in the driveway alongside an older model Cutlass. She had waited to catch a glimpse of the owners, but if they were there, they didn’t come out to lend a hand. She gave up and went about her business. Weeks passed and she never really gave it a second thought.
It was during that time of year when the air had a crispness about it and the setting sun gleamed behind freshly turned leaves of auburn and topaz, making it seem as if the trees were a blaze of Autumn. She saw him sitting Indian-style beneath the gigantic Oak tree in the front yard of the house next door to hers. There was something about the way he was just sitting there completely unoccupied, as if in his own world. That might have deterred some people, but not her. She knew that look, knew it personally. It was her look. She hadn’t yet come into his line of view, so she took advantage of the opportunity to fully glance him over. His curly locks of hair, dark as a raven, were blowing faintly in the late afternoon breeze. He stared straight ahead with eyes the color of Summer honey, which perfectly complimented his olive skin. His clothes were worn and tattered, in complete contrast to the two-story house behind him, but she got the feeling that he liked the statement he was making. She liked it too…and she liked him. She knew instinctively that somehow, he understood her- that he, too, had seen things in his life that no one should ever have to see.
As she walked past, he never even blinked an eye. She felt a pang in her heart at his lack of attention towards her. Deep down, she wasn’t surprised though. She knew she was no picture of beauty. Her plain brown hair hung limp and stringy down her back. She hated her eyes. They were the most boring, dull shade of green and she often thought they bore a striking resemblance to split pea soup. Her skin was neither fair, nor golden; just average. She was acutely aware that she lacked the womanly curves of other girls her age, but rarely let it bother her. Ordinarily, she didn’t mind that she failed to stick out in any obvious ways. She never strived to be noticed, but it was different with him. He didn’t strike her as the shallow, superficial type to care about stuff like that. She pressed on and turned to walk up her driveway, when she noticed out of the corner of her eye that he was looking in her direction. So he had noticed. She turned towards him and offered a quick smile and was surprised to see him return the gesture. She faced back in the direction of which she had just come and walked into her house.
She was, what you would call, a latch-key kid. Her mother had died when she was fourteen and her father was always too busy attending charity events or going on business trips to bother actually being there for her. She suspected why that’s why she was so good at being alone. She was used to it. She came home to an empty house, went to sleep in an empty house, and awoke to a house still as empty as the night before. Even when her father was there, he might as well have not been. Their conversations consisted of three questions: “Are you keeping up your grades?” “Do you have plenty of food?” “Do you need any money?” That was it. It usually lasted about five minutes and that was if he was long winded. He would often go off, leaving nothing but a note behind explaining where he was.
She actually preferred when he was away, so she was pleased to come home to find the familiar yellow slip of paper on the kitchen counter. She glanced out the window to see that the boy had disappeared from beneath the tree. She dug some leftover Chinese food out of the fridge and ate it in front of the television, before going upstairs to her room. She crossed the floor and raised the window to let in some of the cool night air. As she did, she couldn’t help but notice that she had a clear view into the boy’s window. This made her feel better somehow; less alone.
As the months passed, they slowly got to know each other; with her making the first move to introduce herself on one of the many days she saw him beneath the tree. She learned that he was originally from Texas and had a soft spot for Tex-Mex food. He told her of his love for the guitar, how he longed to write songs like Simon and Garfunkel, and that he favored the latter work of The Beatles rather than their early stuff. She told him about liking to write poetry and that she dreamed of having a novel published before she died. He listened as she talked about her admiration of Emily Dickenson. He asked her favorite food, she asked his favorite color: Chinese and blue respectively.
Little by little, they ventured into deeper territory. She took him to her favorite spot and they would spend countless hours lounging on the hillside, talking. He shared that he had an older brother who had died in a terrible car accident. She had wondered if he was an only child, but it seemed like the kind of personal question they had both been reserving for another time. She told him about her father and how she spent a lot of time alone. She told him about not ever really fitting in at school, but never bothering to care. He seemed both saddened and happy about her statement. Saddened because no one ever took the time to get to know her and happy because she was smart enough not to place her self-worth in the hands of other people. She had wondered why she hadn’t seen him at school and found out that he was a year older than she. He graduated the summer before and was trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. There was a connection between them that was undeniable and they both felt it. They spent most of their free time together either riding around in his old Cutlass or going for walks, but most often they would make the trek through the woods and up the hill, especially on Saturday mornings. That was their favorite.
As the weather warmed, they would often go up in the late afternoon to watch as the sun dipped down beneath the trees. She had an affinity for the sunrise and sunset, and he loved to watch her experience it. One afternoon in the early summer, as they sat letting the sun warm their faces, he asked her a question that was more personal than any other he had dared to ask. What was the worst thing she had ever been through? She removed her cherry lollypop from her mouth and stared straight ahead, just as he had been doing the first day they met. She knew what the right answer was, but she wasn’t sure if she could actually say it out loud. He never pressed her, he just let her gather her thoughts until she was ready to speak.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her hands on top. Maintaining her straightforward stare, she told him everything. She explained that her father was not only cold, but also mean. She told him of the numerous times she would hear her parents fighting in their bedroom. Mostly her father would yell and her mother would whimper responses when he deemed it necessary. If she gave the wrong response, the evidence was always visible the next day in a swollen cheek, busted lip, or bruised eye. There were times when she would hear her father forcing himself on his wife, the whole while her mother would be crying and pleading with him to stop. He never did. He was that kind of man. His needs came before anyone else’s…all of them. She was too young, at the time, to realize what was happening. As she got older, nothing changed and, though he never laid a hand on her, she was disgusted by his treatment of her mother. She told him as much one morning after her mother came downstairs still shaken from the night before. His response was that it was none of her business and that being married is about serving your husband in all aspects of life. That afternoon when she got home from school, she found her mother’s lifeless body in a pool of blood on her side of the bed. He had killed her in every way that a person could be killed, she had just finished the deed. It was recommended that she speak with a counselor, but her father would have none of that. He told her that it was all her fault, that her mother would still be here if she wasn’t such a selfish bratt.
Warm tears began to freely flow down her cheeks. She had never told anyone those things. He held her close as she rocked back and forth. He began to tell her of his own secrets. He told her that he felt that his parents still blamed him for his brother’s accident. He had been on the way to pick up his little brother after baseball practice when he was struck by a drunk driver. She could see that his parents didn’t need to blame him. He blamed himself enough. Ironically, he said his mother became an alcoholic who spent most days drinking herself numb. He spent a lot of his time alone, too, before he met her. He leaned in and brushed the tears away from her sage green eyes. Their faces were so close. He cupped his hand beneath her chin and brought their lips together, hers still tasting of cherry and salty tears. They knew they loved each other and at that very moment they wanted to express it in every way. They laid together in the golden shroud of the sunset and explored the new sensations of the experience they were about to share. He couldn’t help noticing how her whole body seemed to glow with a beauty that radiated from the inside out. He knew he had never loved anyone more.
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It had been months since they had been together. He hated leaving her the way he did and he knew she was wondering if he still cared. Eventually, it seemed she had moved on. He was invisible to her. He would have given anything to be able to stay with her on top of that hill forever, growing in love and laughter. He still followed her up to there, but she would never even look at him. He might as well not have been there, but still he stayed. He would sit next to her, not saying a word, just letting her exist. Sometimes she would cry and he could tell she was trying to hide her pain from him. She didn’t want him to see her this way. He would try to talk to her when he saw her out and about, but she just couldn’t talk to him. Not now.
One afternoon, as the wind began to have that chilly bite to it again, he saw her walking through the woods up the path to the hill. He followed her, as he always did, hoping this would be the day she would finally break her silence and they could be together again. She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, just as she had that day so many months ago. He sat next to her, but she acted as if she didn’t notice. He moved closer. He told her that he was sorry for leaving without letting her know or saying goodbye and he promised he would never do it again. He told her that he loved her more than he had ever loved another person in his entire life. She still wouldn’t look at him and it all became too much for him to bear. He placed his hand on her cheek and a look of overwhelming emotion crossed her face. He kissed her forehead as she turned her head and looked in his direction.
She had never been the same after he died. She couldn’t even comprehend life without him. She had known everything about him, except that he had heart problems and was waiting on a donor. He was so beautiful. He looked so healthy. And now he was gone. There just wasn’t enough time. She loved him more than she had ever loved another person in her entire life. She loved him for seeing the beauty in her when she couldn’t see it herself, but mostly for loving her in return, and he felt it. He could move on, now, knowing she would be okay. He would protect her always. He put his arm around her shoulder and she curled into the warmth she felt there, as they sat together watching the golden orb dip lower and lower behind the horizon.
