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It was a cloudy late afternoon when he stopped her by calling out her name.
“Urebu!”
She had turned. “Mori…?”
He ran to catch up to her.
They look at one another.
He pants. “You… cut your hair.”
Her hand reaches for the shorter strands. “Yes… I felt like I needed change.”
She had kept it long for sixteen years just in case he came back…
“It looks good.”
…because he liked her hair long.
“T-Thank you.”
They say nothing before Mori says, “Are you going home now?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“May I… walk you home?”
“…if you wish.”
They begin the twenty minute walk. He remembers because she always took this route with him when they were kids.
He speaks up. “It’s been a while, huh? ”
Urebu smiles. “Well, moving away can do that.”
It’s a cold smile, he thinks, to the boy you used to love.
It was an awkward walk, she thinks, too awkward.
They continue, and soon, they have to fill in the weird feeling with talking.
“Look,” they say together. They stare into the other’s eyes, blinking.
They look away.
“Go ahead,” he says.
“No, you go,” she says.
He looked at her, looks at her, and then says, “Just go, Urebu.”
She looks away from his eyes - she can’t stand his eyes anymore; they’re so real and so piercing, they dig their way into her heart and burn it to ashes - and remains quiet for a minute. Even the way he says her name hasn’t changed.
“H-How are you nowadays?” she asks.
A simple question really. But to him, she might as well asked if he still thought of her everyday. “Fine. You?”
“All right. The doctor says I‘m fine, at least.”
“Ah…” he chuckles. The silence remains.
But he breaks it this time. “Look, Urebu…”
She remembers the way he said her name. So soft and with a bit of affection. She doesn’t hear anything he said until the last few words.
“…and I hope you can move on.”
“Move on?” she looks at him.
“Yeah,” he says, “I have a family now.”
Her heart shatters. She makes no sound though, but she does say, “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Urebu, but-”
“Are you happy with her? Do you love her?”
He stops. His wife? “Well… yes. I do love her, and she makes me very happy.”
Yet again, someone can do these things for him that she could never do.
She smiles again. “Then you have no reason to apologize.”
He breaks a little more inside. “Urebu, I broke our promise-”
“A promise that’s over seventeen years old, Mori,” she states, “any promise can break within that time, you know.”
But ours wasn’t ever meant to break, he thinks, ours was meant to last a lifetime.
It wasn’t meant to be for us, she thinks, no matter how much I wanted it to be.
They have stopped, and now they just stare into each other’s eyes.
Their eyes are filled with so many moments, and so many dreams.
Dreams of what could have been, and of what probably should have been.
She remembers the way he said her name so longingly the day he left.
He remembers the way she begged him for that last promise to last.
Now, all they have are memories and wishes of what could have been for them both.
The look in their eyes is real. It’s real, it’s sweet, it’s hard, and it’s bitter.
But it’s love, they think, it’s definitely love.
“Urebu.”
“What is it, Mori?”
“Are you happy?”
It’s a simple question, really. But he might as well have asked her if she still dreams of him every night. “…yes, I am.”
Lies.
“Don’t lie to me.”
He saw right me again, she thinks,
“Mori…” she looks to her left, and says, “We’re here.”
He looks at her home. It hasn’t changed, but the walk was a lot shorter than he remembered. Then again, their legs have gotten longer.
“I hope you and your wife will do well-”
He didn’t want it to end with a goodbye. Grabbing her shoulder, he spins her to face him. And he ends it.
He ends it with one last kiss, a sealant for a love that could never be now.
It feels like something they should have done before.
The taste of laughter, and tears, and warmth, and love swells between like they had never been apart.
But when they part, the feelings escape, and all they’re left with is the remains of a seventeen year old promise, and long hair, and love letters, and feelings of sadness and loniless, and empty looks, and awkward questions that feel like they had an alternate meaning, and a longing they would never get rid of.
She touches the gate to her home.
“Mori…”
“Urebu.”
She opens the gate. “You look good in glasses.”
He touches the frames. “Thank you.”
She smiles, and begins to enter her home. He simply watches.
“Goodbye Mori.”
He gulped. “Goodbye Urebu.”
And it ends.
 Ukeire · Sat Jun 20, 2009 @ 06:47am · 0 Comments |
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