A love story

“I Promise.” – December 2005

We lay upon my parents’ bed with our legs intertwined and our bodies sprawled out across the delicate rouge of the sheets. My head lay settled upon her chest as I stared blankly at the image of Anakin Skywalker sauntering about a platform above Coursaat or something to that effect. Hell if I knew what’d been going on this movie. For the past hour I’d been focused more intently upon the subtle inhales and the sighing warm breath which I felt upon the nape of my neck than on the irrelevant banalities of a green creature and his Jedi companions. Nothing but her breathing seemed to matter at that moment, not the movie, not my work, not my friends nor family. Nothing. As my head rocked gently back and forth with the rising and falling of her chest, I altered each breath I took, hoping to reach a state where it became natural and I would no longer have to work for our bodies to breathe in unison. I would no longer have to work for things to be the way that I wanted them to be. Perfect.

“Trav?” I heard her say in the minutest of a whisper, “I promise that I’ll never hurt you.” She said as she clenched my hand in hers. I lay still and pondered in awe of what I’d just been told. I just wish I could accept it to be true. A part of me was dying to disregard my better judgment and reasoning but I couldn’t help but find myself saying, “Angel, as beautiful as that sounds or how convinced in yourself you may be, if you truly love me, then there’s no way we can be together without hurting one another in some kind of a way.”

Is there such a thing as an Angel? – June 2005

I glared up at the figure which hung before me. His prim, sagely face and deep blue melancholy eyes seemed to loom down upon me. The compunction cut deep and I averted my eyes from the cross. I shuffled around in the cold wooden pew and attempted to find something else to focus on to drown out the trivial sermon being given by the priest. The long brown hair of a girl sitting about 4 rows up from me to the right of the church seemed to catch my eye.

She was wearing a sea shell necklace around her slender neck and a white element shirt with jeans. She appeared to fit the model of my dream girl and after just moving to this country about a week ago and knowing absolutely no-one, I was absolutely enthralled. I was fascinated to not only see someone my own age, but she happened to be gorgeous too and I couldn’t help but stare. As the minutes ticked away, I kept my gaze fixed upon the girl across the room. Then it happened. She turned her head and happened to notice me staring straight at her. I looked away quickly, evasive of her gaze so as not to seem like I’d been staring at her for too long.

Sitting there, beginning to feel slightly embarrassed about what had just happened, I tried to keep my eyes fixed firmly on the priest in the center of the chapel. The dreary lecture continued and I tried to forget about the girl, but there was an insistent nagging in the back of my mind which kept telling me to look over at her pew once more. No longer able to fight my impulse, I glanced over in her direction and happened to notice her staring right back at me. She quickly averted her gaze.

Maybe Not. – June 2006

June 3^rd 2006, just 13 days away from our 6 month anniversary, we broke up. The break up hadn’t really come as a surprise to be honest. For about a month before this day I’d found myself choking up on the words “It’s over” at least 5 times over various different disputes. Things had been shaky, really shaky in fact. The pure and trusting feeling of a fresh and new relationship had now dwindled and decayed from our impurities and faults over the past 6 months, and at the heart of all our problems was the issue of trust.

How many times do you forgive the person that you love?

Esc. – June 2006

The chatter of keyboards being pounded upon, editors commenting on article ideas for the next issue and the blend of weekly gossip from the two girls who sit beside me all infuse to form a cacophony of sound as I sit facing the computer and try to write my article for the school paper. I felt like shit. I thought that breaking things off would make it hurt less, but obviously I was wrong.

I felt a hand reluctantly tap me on my right shoulder and I swiveled around on my chair to see Ashley Scorbello’s arm held out before me. In it she held a note. I slowly took the note from her hand; gave her a forced, empty smile and swiveled back around to face the computer. The words “Ti Amo” were emblazoned across the front. This was from her.

I stared blankly at the neatly folded piece of paper within my hand, debating whether or not to open it. A circular outline protruded from the otherwise flat plane of the paper, creating the figure of an object. Giving in to my curiosity I unfolded the note and a gold ring dropped down onto the desk.

I quickly gathered up the ring and placed it in the palm of my left hand, hoping that nobody heard it fall. The note read as follows.

Ti Amo.

I know that we aren’t together anymore and I know that you probably don’t want to see me at the moment, but I just wanted you to have this. It’s my Fathers wedding ring. He gave it to me after my mom and him got divorced and he left. I want you to have it. Please just wear it for me. I know that we can’t be together right now but I’m still hoping that someday we can work things out and be together again. I know that we can be perfect and just seeing you wear this ring will let me know that you still care about me and you haven’t given up on us.

I will always love you.

Your Angel.

I felt my eyes begin to swell with tears but I bit down hard on my lower lip to try and stop myself from crying. I opened the palm of my hand and looked down at the ring within it. Contemplating on the storm of thoughts raging through my mind, I picked up the ring and placed it upon the escape key of the keyboard. This action seemed symbolic to me, or at least it made me smile for the first time days. After proudly examining this piece of art that only I could ever understand, I picked up the ring once more, placed it on my right ring finger and tried once again to write my damn article.