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.”
