She fell to
the ground, just like in all the clichés. Diving in front of her love,
sacrificing her life to save his. Taking the bullet meant him. The story line
was as old as dirt. But story lines aren't supposed to happen in real life.
It really did go in slow motion. That part surprised him. He had never seen
himself as a particularly dramatic person. Maybe this was the way tragedies
played themselves out. No matter, though, because this was really happening.
She was really falling. Her hair splayed out in a wild, crazy pattern. Her lips
formed a perfect "o" of surprise. Her eyes flashed a million colors
in one second. He did what any person would, if they were faced with a fairy
tale situation. He ran to her.
"Not her! Oh, God, why her?" He could hear anguished cries in the
background. He willed them all to shut the hell up. Did they know who exactly
they were talking about? She was invincible, omnipotent. They were speaking
like this blow would affect her! They all needed to shut the hell up.
"I'm sorry." The first words out of her mouth. Not quite the reaction
he had expected.
"What? Sorry for what? What do mean, Squirt?" He called her by the
affectionate nickname that had run the course of their friendship. She smiled,
a ghost of a thing, and sighed wearily, like an old woman. The sigh was a scary
reality, and he was filled with dread, cold and thick.
"How could I know I would have to leave you? How, when I know you still
need me so?" He wanted to hit her. Anger pounded in his ears and the vein
in his neck.
"Shut up, shut up. You are NOT leaving me. Do you understand the words
that I am speaking? You have been to hell and back. You have been through more
than anyone I have ever known has. You have lived a thousand lifetimes of pain,
and been all the stronger for it. This is not the end. You are you, and you
can't be dying." She smiled again. Was that a good sign?"
"My dearest friend, an intelligent person like you can't allow judgment to
be clouded by- by emotion, by feelings. After all, even the day must give way
to the night." He knew then. Something burst inside of him, and he felt
once more like he was trapped in the end of a cheesy romance novel. Only one
thing to do. He leaned down until their noses were touching.
"I love you in the morning and in the afternoon. I love you in the
evening, underneath the moon." He sang under his breath, knowing
that the playful childhood reference was perfectly fitting. Acceptable. Wanted.
She gave him a butterfly kiss, although he didn't know if it was intentional,
and he leaned back to stare into her face. She was glowing, positively glowing
as he brushed her nose with his lips. She closed her eyes and opened them
again.
One could almost feel the life ebbing away from her, in thick sliver strands.
Those strands held together so many memories, so many laughs, so many tears.
Oh, the times they had snuck out of bed at night, tiptoeing about, planting
booby traps for unsuspecting innocents to find the next day. The times they had
ditched class to go for a quick swim in the lake, making up incredible stories
for the reasons they were soaked to the bone when they got back. He remembered
her in the main town, picking up the little children that ran rampant, and
swinging them in her arms. He wanted to snatch up those silver strands. Do
something with them. Then he realized that was what he was supposed to do. So
he did. He gathered them all up, and slipped them away.
"And she gathered these things and pondered them in her heart," he
whispered, just loud enough for himself to hear. He knew now exactly how Mary
had felt.
"What are you thinking?" she asked in a voice that was clear and
soft. What am I thinking? He wondered.
"I'm thinking that…I'm thinking about…well, I guess I don't know. Maybe I'm
thinking about how much I'm unsure of. Maybe I'm thinking of how much I know.
But I'm pretty sure that I'm trying not to think much of anything. I think that
thinking is bad for your health." He wasn't sure if it was the appropriate
time to be making up confusing strands of nonsense, but anything to make her
smile. Smiles were a universal language. More cheesy cliché, but truth is
truth, no matter how you slice and dice it. If a picture spoke a thousand
words, than her smiles spoke a million pictures.
"You are a goof ball," she whispered. Her voice was getting more
breathy now, weaker. Suddenly this wasn't a bittersweet trip down memory lane.
"This just got real," he whispered back, voice filled with wonderment
and realization. She nodded slightly, and he could see her concentrating on
something. She opened her lips and he leaned his ear to her head.
"In a relationship, it is obvious that hugs are more important than
kisses. Anyone can press their lips up against someone else's; anyone can shove
their tongue in someone's mouth. But a perfect hug is an art. There is nothing
more beautiful than being safe in an embrace and nothing more perfect than the
combination of strength and gentleness. That's what a hug is. A balance of
both." She mustered up her remaining energy and steeled her voice. "I
want to die in a hug."
He was crying now. And for the first time in his life, it didn't matter. He
gave up on the fruitless attempts to convince her she would live. All he wanted
was to give her what she wanted. If she had asked for a handful of stars, he
was fully convinced that he would have found some for her. But a hug, a hug he
could do. In fact, he wasn't sure who he was doing it for. The fact that he was
helpless never crossed his mind. In his world, and in her's, he was giving what
she needed far beyond any medicine, any doctor.
He slipped his arms under her as carefully as if he was lifting an armful of
fragile china. Her head rested in the nestle of his arm and he pulled her
close, taking in every detail with a clarity still unchallenged. No one dared
to disturb the two who lay in a tumble of limbs on the field. Even from far
away, the severity of the moment was as easy to see as the difference between
life and death.
Just as she was fading away, he heard it. A tiny mumble of a voice crept up his
shirt and curly-cued its way into his ears.
"He holds me in his arms to keep, here shall I forever sleep. I lay my
head upon his chest, and all my pains and woes to rest. Once again my heart is
broken. Perhaps one day I'll be awoken." A shudder passed through her
body, and her angelic slumped like a tiny sleeping child's. He smiled through
his tears. That's what she was now. A tiny sleeping, angelic child. He kissed
her hair and closed his eyes, finishing her last tribute.
"But never could I anticipate. That I could lose a love so great."