It would be nice. . . If there were two moons. Even if it wasn’t real – Even if it wasn’t tangible. It would be nice if there were two of you.
I stared out the window; the wind’s voice pulled my attention elsewhere. I was vaguely aware of the distant mumble of my Maths teacher. I could finish the class work at home but right now was the only time I could watch “him”.
Just below my window, he sat on a bench, quietly strumming his guitar. His long fringe covered his eyes, which I remember to be chocolate brown. He would frown at the comparison. Out of all the people I know, he’s the only one that has a dislike to chocolate. If I leaned forward enough, I would see the dark patch on the grass where he continuously tapped his right foot; a habit of his when playing the guitar.
‘Ms Pham, if you would please spare a minute from your day dreaming maybe you would grace me with the answer to this question?’
Now it was Mr Watson’s turn to tap his right foot but unlike “him” it was due to impatience rather than out of habit. . . Just before I stood to answer the question, I thought for a second that I could hear laughter from outside the window. But when I returned to my seat he was gone from the bench.
At lunch, I waited for him under the maple tree. It was our favourite lunch spot. I slid down into a comfortable position as I waited for him. He was five minutes late. Seven minutes. Ten minutes. Thirteen minutes. At fifteen, I took the first bite out of my already cold sandwich. Then, I heard the quick pounding of feet and suddenly, all I could see were the dark blue threads which made up our uniform and all I could feel was a dead weight.
‘Maria, I finally finished writing the song! It was a success!’
He stared down at me. I’d never seen him so happy before. His cheeks were flushed with anticipation and nervousness yet his eyes. . . His chocolate eyes were full of joy. I stood up and swallowed the lump in the back of my throat.
‘I’m glad to hear. You’ve been working on that song for a while now. I’m sure Jessica would fall head over hills for you after she hears the song.’ His cheeks had gotten even redder, if that was possible. His long fingers thread through his mass of hair as he cleared his throat . . .
‘Actually . . . she already heard it’ a girl walked towards us until she stopped beside him and slid her hand into his. The young couple blushed. Once more I swallowed the huge lump in the back of my throat but its size did not compare to the hole in my chest . . . I clenched my fists as I gave them my best smile.
‘I’m happy for you guys. . . I’m glad everything worked out great.’
‘I’m sure, you will find your true love one day Maria’
Even years after I graduated high school, I could still hear the distinct sound of his guitar. When I walk through the streets of Sydney, I always stop to listen to people playing guitars, imagining for a moment it was him playing. And playing for me. Then the music would stop and I would realise that I was crying.
In the harbour’s water was a reflection of the full moon, mocking me. It would be nice if there were really two moons.
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