or heart-throbbing. I still wonder about the enthusiasm people would have about my life so I opted instead to write about my love life since after all I specialise in romantic literature. There is something else too that is precious about this story: it contains the past three years with and without my unknowing guitarist. This account is my last farewell to him in which I finally reveal his name.
This post will be quite long so I am dividing it into 3 inidividual posts. Sorry for the inconvience.
3 year's Unknowing
I lean against the tiles which send shivers down my bare back. The dress, is it too revealing? I wonder if I should have worn something simpler? I wonder if I should have chosen a different meeting place. What if someone recognises us? Maybe, he won't come in the first place. This after all, is merely my own outrageous request. I caress the digital camera in my handbag and question the possibility of a photo. A selfish keepsake for when years later, I no longer will be able to visualise the twinkle of his eyes. Even so, I will remember always the three years I had with and without him.
I glanced down at the blue ballpoint pen I held in my hand with shock. Had I just gone with the flow and told a complete stranger my email address? I analysed the gleaming pen lid in my other hand and confirmed that stationery supplies don't drag themselves from my shoulder-bag and squeeze themselves into my palm. I slumped down from my standing position and gave out a long sigh: Why must I always be such an easy person? I should learn to say no. Why can't people let me finish Vietnamese school without any difficulties or allow me to wait for my brother in the opposite classroom in peace? Is it so much to ask for?
Every Sunday, I am dragged out of bed and to Vietnamese school thanks to my beloved mother. The following Sunday after the suprising incident, two boys showed up at my classroom during lunchbreak. My good friend Duy Li happened to know them by the names of Anthony and Victor. Anthony, was the name of my 'complete stanger' and it came to be a name I would fear for a long time.
To say the most, I began to dread every lunch-time for lunch brought Anthony. He was a peculiar young man. Peculiar being an understatement. He was always sitting too close or asked uncomfortable questions. I being such a pushover didn't know how to respond. But with Anthony, there was always Victor. And he was my little sparkle of light amongst the darkness.
Victor and I turned out to be very compatible. We were both book lovers but of very different genres. He:Historical fiction and I: Romance. In Victor, I found my writing companion who understood the difficulties of writer's block and the constant scrapping of stories that not even my bestfriends understood. Soon, my every thought began with Victor and ended with him. But, all I could do was keep it bottled inside. When I saw myself in the mirror, I was someone not worthy of him. I was always cruely reminded by people around me that I was short for my age. Everywhere I went, whispering giggles trailed my back or random girls would collide into me screaming: OMG she's so CUTE. SO TINY. SO ADORABLE. And they would disappear like it was normal to hug strangers forgetting the issue of personal space. Because of years being insulted in such a way, I began to loathe the word "Cute" whenever it was associated with me. Never, ever I want to be called 'cute'.
Victor and I continued to grow closer with thanks to the internet. Soon it became a routine for me to talk to him for at least more than 2 hours or until we both struggled to keep our eyes open. We shared family stories and when came a time for me to test my loyalty to my Step-Dad, Victor was there through the nights I was bawling my eyes. My biological father whom I haven't spoken to for more than 10yrs invited me to the wedding of my older sister to which I never knew I had. He helped with the decision that I shouldn't abandon my past and that my current father would understand. And I with that decision, I attended the most awkward wedding of my life.
Around the middle of the year, Anthony began to regualrly ask me out on dates to various places: The Arts Museum, cinema, dinasaur museum, amusement parks and so on. To which I politely declined. During one lunchtime, it was announced quite loudly by a classmate that Anthony liked me. I looked at her with an expression which could only be described as shock and turned to Victor for help. He merely shrugged: What can I do?
Near late November was my year 10 Graduation in which I completed my school certificate and became eligible to continue to grade 11 and 12. For the ceremony, I decided to change my curly hairstyle to become permanently straight. The next Sunday, I skipped along the pond that was adored by my Vietnamese school and arrived infront of Victor with my new long hair floating after me. I smiled at him questioningly: So What do you think? He glanced up at me from his book and gave me his twinkling eyes: Cute. My heart stopped. That day, I walked away with his gentle and sincere voice still lingering in my ears. Cute. Inside my heart, something bloomed.
'Am I late?'
I blink away the memories and beam at him: No, strangely you're not.
He let out a chuckle and we entered the cinema. Maybe, this wasn't a mistake after all.
(To be continued)