A not so short story

Oh God. After three days of writing and re-writing. And re-writing. And revising. My "short" story is finally done. One of the trademark in my writing is my sarcasm (which, if you haven't figured out, can't really be put inside a romance story) so I really had LOTS of "fun" writing this story.

This is a short story I wrote for my English class. It's due tomorrow. I know that it's not really that short, so don't read it unless you guys really have nothing better to do. Anyway, if you decide to read it, it will mean A LOT to me if you guys take the time to leave me some feed back. I hope you guys find this story interesting! Anyway.

Once Upon an Us

Her day 30

I plant a kiss on him. Kisses, actually. One on his forehead, one on his right cheek. Another quickly follows on his lips. This is the point where – if he were his usual self – he would pull back gasping for air, giggle and pull me back in for more kisses. Instead, he just looks away and pulls his blanket up to where his legs are supposed to be.

“I knew something was wrong with me, but I didn't know what exactly," he whimpers. "I'm really sorry that I didn't tell you about this. I should have told you,” he indistinctly murmurs.

"It's okay. I will always be here when you need me," I say. I know I wouldn't always be 'here', but I feel like I need to say something to comfort him. Anything. And that was the first thing that came to my mind.

“Always is a long time, isn't it?” his smile lights up as he replies, “Don't you mean until the day I die?”

“But you told me you would never die. No, more than that,” I say as I look deep into his eyes, “You promised me we would never die.”

"You silly," his voice has a somewhat playful tone in it, "I will never die."

His day 29

I woke up today and my legs were heavy. The last thing I wanted to do was walk around the mall waiting for someone to finish their shopping. But I already promised Chiara that we were going shopping today. So I pulled myself together and went to the mall.

She ran around and I walked slowly. There were a lot of people around us, and I silently wondered how we looked like in their eyes. Do we look like brother and sister? Do we look like friends? Her pace became faster and I could feel mine became slower. I probably should ask her to walk more slowly, but I didn't want to look weak. So I shut up and kept walking.

His day 29

“Catch me if you can!” I shout as I run through the never-ending mall hall, challenging him to a game of tag.

He smiles and walks to me slowly, really. He is so slow that I manage to circle around the hall and catch him from behind.

I pat him on his back softly, “You okay? You're kinda... slow,” I fold my hands behind my back and lean forward as I look up to his face from under.

“Yeah,” he replies, his breath heavy, “I'm just fine.”

Had I paid more attention to him, I would have noticed that his legs were wobbly. But I don't. So I just give him an “okay.” as I turn around and resume walking.

The next sound I hear is a thud, quickly followed by a scream of an unfamiliar old lady. I turn around to catch a glimpse of Ryan lying on a cold marble-tiled floor. I stand there frozen as the old lady pulls out her cellphone and calls 911.

Later in the hospital, the doctors tell me that his legs have to be amputated. 'Diabetes complication,' they say. I find myself standing there frozen, again, realizing that I can't do anything for him.

His day 23

Today I held her hands for the very first time. I was expecting her to break free from my grip, but she didn't. Instead, she moved closer to me. Somewhere along this line, we realized we fell into something more than friendship; more than me simply knowing her name was Chiara, and her knowing my name was Ryan.

"Let's go somewhere," I said, keeping my hands around hers, "Just you and me."

"Where to?" She said.

"Anywhere you want."

"Let's go to the mall then? There is this dress I wanted to buy since forever."

"Sure," I smiled and held her hand more firmly. "Next Saturday?"

"That works."

Her day 23

I almost don't realize it when he entangles his fingers around mine. I think I'm supposed to break free when someone I know little about holds my hand. But to my surprise, I don't find it annoying at all. So I let it be.

“Remember the book I was reading when we first met at the park?”

He nods.

“Well, that was actually the first book of the trilogy. And I'm reading the third one. The younger sister died in the third book! Can you believe it?”

He nods. Again. I get the feeling that he is not really interested in books. We keep walking for quite some time. “People die, Chiara,” he says, his voice heavier than ever, “And there's nothing we can do about it.”

“I know. But,” Before I know it, I stop walking. “But. I don't want to die. I don't want you to die. I don't want us to die,” I don't know where all this is coming from. Probably I regard Ryan more as my older brother than whatever he is to me now.

At this point, he stops as well, smiles, and pats me on my head, “You dummy. I'm not going to die. And neither are you.”

I know that's a lie. But it's a good enough answer. I guess any answer is good enough when you question life, really.

His day 20

Chiara sat next to me with her eyes closed, “Sing to me.”

“I don't sing,” I looked into the distance then said with a wide grin, “Last time I sang, people threw coins at me begging me to stop.”

“Then,” she giggled, her eyes now wide open with what seemed to be curiosity, “What do you do?”

I picked up an empty can sitting next to me, stood up and started juggling it with my thigh. And finally kicking it with the inside of my right foot into the trash can five feet away from me. I looked back at her with a satisfied smile.

Her day 20

“Soccer?” I find my eyes madly fixated to his crooked smile.

“Used to,” his smile now gone, replaced by a smile that doesn't look anything but tired.

“Used to?” I ask nonchalantly, expecting to get an answer. Instead I just get a sigh and that crooked smile of his again.

“Talk to me,” I beg to him. I didn't mean my voice to sound so desperate, but it did.

“We are talking,” He murmurs as he closes his eyes. I want to know more about him. I really do.

His day 15

Today we decided to meet in the park where we first met. Unlike our first meeting, there were a lot of kids playing in the park today. Chiara and I were talking while sitting on the grass when a kid approached us.

"Hey, hey!" the kid's blonde hair waved around as she jumped up and down. "Are you two... dating?"

I glimpsed at Chiara and saw her cheeks became red. This is awkward, I thought. But Chiara didn't seem like she was about to answer the kid, and I felt bad for not answering.

"Not yet," I answered with a grin as I looked back to Chiara, hoping that it was the correct answer.

The kid became all giddy-like and ran away. Apparently, my answer wasn't wrong.

"You could just tell her that we are..." she whispered, her face was redder than ever and her voice small.

"Huh? What was that?" I cupped my hand over my ear. I actually heard her just fine, but I felt the ned to tease her. 

"You jerk!" She laughed and screamed as she hit my arm over and over again as I fell and laid down on the grass field.

Her day 15

"You know," I say as I lay down next to him in a grass field. "You look a lot like my brother."

"Older brother?" he props himself on one elbow as he looks to me. "How so?"

"Well," I sit up straight and squint my eyes, trying hard to remember how he actually looked like, "For starters, he also played soccer. He had the same brown eyes as you do. And black hair. And the way he dressed, too."

"Why the past tense?" his voice now has a hint of curiosity in it.

"Yeah," I look down and close my eyes, "It was five years ago."

It was five years ago when I was still in sixth grade. I was practicing Beethoven's 5th Symphony on my piano when mom came in and cried. I asked her what's wrong but she just wept and wept. And when I thought she was done crying, she cried a little bit more. After what seemed like three hours of crying, she finally calmed down and told me that Jack had an accident. And this time it was my turn to cry. I cried and cried, the next thing I knew was they had to put make up on me during Jack's funeral to hide my puffy eyes. I actually remember everything as if he died yesterday, but some memories are too painful to recall. And this is definitely one of those memories. 

"Sorry," I shake my head. "It's been so long I kinda forget how it goes." If he doesn't believe me, he does a good job hiding it.

"I know," he says and simply sits idly next to me.

His day 12

Today I met her again. This time in the street. I silently wondered how much God must have loved me since He randomly met me with Chiara. Okay, the one in the bookstore may not be so “randomly”, if you know what I mean. Anyway.

She was far ahead of me. Probably a good twenty feet away from me. I ran for a bit, but my legs weren't really in the best shape, so I decided to walk quickly instead. “Hello again,” I said as I overtook her.

“Hello,” she said with a smile. I noticed her hands were full with plastic bags filled with books. “We run into each other an awful lot, don't we?”

“We do. Must be fate,” I extended my hand forward, showing her that I didn't mind carrying some of her plastic bags.

She shook her head, “Or maybe you're just an awfully skilled stalker.”

“Maybe,” for a minute we simply walked side by side, “Do you want to grab a cup of coffee?”

“I don't drink coffee,” she replied without excitement, “But tea, sure.”

“Deal.”

Her day 12

I don't know why I even suggested (well, not really. But it was implied) us to get a cup of tea. A part of me is probably just bored, the other part of me might be interested in him. Interested in this boy whose crooked smile has been nagging on my mind for the past couple days. Interested in this boy sitting in front of me who likes his tea extra sweet. Like. EXTRA sweet.

At first he tears a sachet of sugar. Then two. Then three. And before I know it, he already tears eight of them and starts stirring his tea with a silver spoon.

“One of these days,” I say as I take a sip of my unsweetened chamomile tea, “You will get diabetes.”

He smiles and shoves his tea aside without drinking it.

"Why did you order tea if you didn't want to drink it?" I ask out of curiosity.

He just laughs.

Her day 5

It's Sunday and the weather is finally getting warmer. I'm finally done with the book I bought last week, so I decided to get another one.

As I read the book the shopkeeper told me to, I see someone approaching me in my peripheral vision. I look up to see the boy who talked to me a few days ago. He wears a black t-shirt and a pair of navy blue jeans.

“Hello there,” there he went again with his hello and his crooked smile. Just like when we first met in the park.

“Hello,” I say as I look back down to the book I'm reading, trying to not look interested at all.

“So,” he says, pulling a book out of the bookshelf he's leaning against. “We meet again,” He says, I can tell he is trying his best to impersonate Goldfinger from the old James Bond movie.

I stay silent – hardly able to hold back my smile – while he just leans there wordlessly.

Finally, when I've had enough, “Look,” I briefly pause, trying to make the next sentence coming out of my lips heavier, or maybe I'm just trying to sound irritated. “I don't even know your name.”

“Ryan,” his voice bubbly, he flips through the book he took out of the bookshelf earlier, “what's yours?”

There is something in his voice and in his looks that make me believe that he is serious. Serious about what, I don't really know. And as much as I hate to believe, I find myself muttering my own name, “Chiara.”

He closes the book with a snap. “See? We're already getting to know each other pretty well here,” there he goes again with his crooked smile.

His day 1

The air was still cold but it was definitely getting warmer. A quick look at my iPhone showed that it was 65 degrees. Not exactly the warmest day, but it showed that spring was coming.

While the weather outside was cold, the weather inside the bus sure was not. In fact, it was more warm than cold despite the air conditioner being on. Thanks to this, I started to feel my eyes growing heavy.

I woke up abruptly only to find that I had missed my stop by three minutes. Ugh. I pulled the signal rope and made a quick reminder to never fall asleep in a bus again. No matter how warm it was inside.

The bus stopped shortly after in a neighborhood I was familiar enough to know there was a park around the corner, but not enough to know where I was exactly. I opened my mental map of neighborhood and deducted that going through the park was a shortcut to my house. So I went inside.

The park was empty, really. You would expect a lot of kids playing around the park at this time of the day, but the only person in the park was this girl, sitting calmly on a bench in the center of the park. 

Despite her sitting on the bench, I could see that she was petitely short. Her dark hair contrasting her white dress hung loosely down her back. Her head was slightly slumping forward.

As I walked closer, I saw a book on her lap. She tucked some of her hair behind her right ear. I found myself walking closer. Again.

I stood frozen around two feet away from her, somewhat surprised that she didn't realize I was here. Or simply didn't care. I thought the latter was more probable. She was way cuter up close than from she was from afar. It took me around a minute to gather up the courage to clear my throat and open my mouth.

“Hello,” I said.

The petite girl looked up to me– her hair she tucked earlier fell back off – and smiled at me. Her dimples appeared out of nowhere. Now that I looked back, I think they were more potholes than they were dimples; they made me fall.

“I think I'm falling for you,” I said out of nowhere.

Her cheeks reddened, “I don't know you.”

“Yet.”