thecolorinyoureye

[thecolorinyoureye]

Adeline

A daughter hunted down for the crimes of her alleged father, who she has never met. Is this the price she has to pay for being a murder’s child?

PRESENT DAY

September 7, 1970 – (Limburg, Germany)

“How did I end up here?” I thought to myself, as I sat in a cold, dark cell where I was told to rot by my captors.  I had my knees up to my chest, with both arms wrapped around it, which gave me both a sense of comfort and warmth.

“Oh Mama, if only you were here.  You would know the right thing to do,” I uttered softly. My voice cracked with sobs that soon followed.  I knew I had lost a battle that I did not know I was a part of, well, that was until four days ago.  But, what now? I was caught.  And I knew, I would die soon.

 FOUR DAYS EARLIER

September 3, 1970 – (Marburg, Germany)

“Mmm I love Fall,” I said aloud, as I walked through Marburg, my local town, my home.  My arms swung forward and back, making the basket filled with loaf bread swing along, as I skipped across the road.  As I continued my stroll, leaves fell from the tree branches, allowing me to savor the sound of crisp, dried leaves crunch as I intentionally stomped my way home.  Autumn was my favorite season since I could remember. As much as I enjoyed watching nature bloom during the spring, I do have a thing for the orange, brown, and other earth tones that covered the land.

As I neared the door to my house, I raised my right hand to knock.  It had been a custom my mother had instilled in me. She would always remind me to knock before I enter, as this would display one’s respect for the personal space of another and would reflect how one was raised.

But as my knuckles touched the door, I found that it was open.   “Mama must’ve left the door ajar again,” I thought.  She always forgot to close the door properly.  There was that one time she accidentally forgot to shut the door and we woke up to a stray cat rummaging through our kitchen.  I giggled at the memory.

“Mama!” I called out, as I entered, sure that the door clicked shut. “Mama, I have the bread you asked for!” I continued to say, as I took small steps into the kitchen, where I figured she would be.

As I neared the kitchen, an awful smell of metal filled the air and now, my lungs.  I stopped short, mid-step.  I placed my foot down, as I tried to identify what it could possibly be.  I shook my head and assumed it must’ve been carried by the wind.   “But, why would our kitchen be open at this time?” I questioned in my head.

Curiosity ran through, making me take bigger steps to find its source.   “Mama? Are you in the kitchen?” I called out.   “Why hasn’t she replied? The house isn’t that big for her not to hear me,” I questioned again.

“Mama, what is that awful stench?” I asked, as I set foot in the kitchen. My eyes drifted from the floor to the body that lay, sprawled on the dinner table.

“Mama?” I asked once more.  My right hand flew up and covered my nose to help me filter the air, while my left hand gripped the basket handle harder.

As I stood at the edge of the table, my eyes scanned the figure.   “Mama,” I whispered.  It was her. My eyes focused on her face, not blinking.  I couldn’t move.  My legs were frozen.  I felt my whole body go stiff.

My eyes started to drift from her face to her toes.  Her neck had bruises, which looked like she was strangled. Her stomach was cut open, her ribs visible, and her organs gone.  I looked down and saw them, scattered around the kitchen floor.

I felt bile come up my throat, I was disgusted at what my eyes were seeing. But that wasn’t all.  There was a message on the wall.   A message written in blood, my mother’s blood.

"Du bist der Nachste, (You’re next,)” I read and stilled.    

“I’m next? Whoever killed Mama must be coming after me too,” I thought to myself.

After another minute or two, my brain had finally caught up with what just happened.  My knees gave out and I dropped to the floor, crying aloud as I mourned my mother’s brutal death.

Five hours later, it was officially dark outside.  The sun had set long ago.  I have already cleaned up my mother’s body and the other parts of her. It wasn’t easy, to say the least. But by some miracle, I was able to do so without breaking down.    

 Once I came to terms with reality, the urgency to leave my home hit me hard.  I couldn’t stay here much longer, or else my mother’s murderers would get me too.  So, I picked myself up from the ground and began to gather my mother’s remains and buried her secretly in our tiny backyard. We weren’t wealthy, in fact, I had to drop out of school early to help mother pay rent.  As much as I wanted a proper burial for her, I knew I had no time, no money, and people would soon notice Mama’s absence.  I feared that if word got out about her brutal death, living will be all the more complicated.

The pain and sorrow of my mother’s death still brewed in me, but I dismissed it.  I had already wasted time, I couldn’t afford to lose any more.

I wasn’t stupid.  I might’ve not finished my schooling, but I had skipped two levels back because they were too easy for me.  That was one thing mama loved to remind me of.  She admired my smarts especially since she was a gullible kid growing up.  At least that’s what she told me.

I had to leave soon.  But, I found myself in Mama’s room.  I couldn’t push myself to leave without something that would remind me of her.  I wanted a piece of her to take with me.

As I rummaged through her closet, I came across her jewelry box.  One that I had no permission to touch or open, unless it was an emergency, as Mama would tell me.  However, with her gone and people out to get me, I believed the current circumstances pointed to this as an emergency.

My hands trembled as I clicked open the box.  My eyes immediately began to scan its contents.    Inside the box there were five items: a bundle of letters, a ring, a torn picture of Mama when she was young, some pieces of torn newspaper, and a note.

I picked up the ring and stared at it.  “An engagement ring? It must be,” I concluded in my head.    Although, Mama never told me she was engaged.  Now that I thought of it, she rarely spoke of her life before her pregnancy. Every time I would ask her, she’d just brush me off and say, “It’s not important.”

I brushed back my thoughts and questions to reserve them for a later time. I took all five items and placed them in my brown purse, along with a couple of pairs of clothes, money, and a little food.  “This should be enough,” I said to no one, as I zipped up my duffel bag.

With my purse in hand and one last look at home, I left.  I took my mother’s car with me – one reserved for long trips out of town – and down the road I went.

 September 4, 1970 – (Wetzlar, Germany)

I stopped and looked around.  I’ve been on the road since I left home with only one break in-between to use the toilette. I was at Wetzlar now, a neighboring town.  It took at least two hours, since I kept to the speed limit.  It was the early hours of the day when most were still at home, in bed.  I couldn’t stop my yawns.  Exhaustion had caught up with me and the car has almost run out of its fuel.  I knew I couldn’t afford to fill it up to take me any further, so I made sure to maximize what it had.

  Another ten minutes later, the car stopped, officially out of gas.  I dropped my hands from the steering wheel and leaned against the seat.  Unintentionally, I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up to a loud bang and the sound of glass breaking.  Alarmed, I sat up and immediately made eye contact with a brawny man in front of my car. I sensed movement from my left and the next thing I knew, the door was pulled open and I had both hands on the ground.

“Bleib unten, lady! (Stay down, lady!)” a man whispered harshly to me in our native tongue, as I felt something cold press against my side.  I knew it was a knife, but I did not dare check.

“Grab the duffel bag and let’s go!” another man spoke.

“What about the car? Do we take that too?” another voice asked, but it sounded softer.

“No, leave it.  It’s out of fuel,” the man next to me answered.  Then I felt his eyes on me and his hand brushed away the stray hairs off my face.  “You’re a beauty, aren’t you?” he whispered close to my ear.  I felt his eyes roam my body.  I shivered in disgust.

“Hey, Marcus, don’t you think it’ll be a waste to just let this lady go?” he asked the man, who I now knew was named Marcus.  

“It would be a shame indeed, Jon,” Marcus replied.

I felt hands begin to roam my body, touching me in places I never wanted any man, besides my future spouse, to touch.  I tried to scream for help, but as if Jon read my thoughts, he covered my mouth with his hairy hand.  My cries for help were muffled.  I closed my eyes, prepared for what I knew would follow.

Suddenly, a weight dropped beside me.  I opened my eyes and looked to my left.  Jon was on the floor, unconscious.  I looked up and saw another man, a skinnier one, holding what looked like a wrench.  It was probably what they used to break the glass.  I squirmed, filled with new hope.

Marcus loosened his grip on me, which allowed me to squirm further away.  Content with the distance I’ve managed to create, I looked at the scene in front of me. Marcus and the other man were throwing punches at each other, both hitting their targets.  It looked like Marcus was winning, so I stood, picked up the fallen wrench, closed my eyes, and swung it towards what I hoped was his head.

I heard a thud and opened my eyes.  Marcus was on the floor, blood seeping from his head. I dropped the wrench and backed away.

“Hey, it’s okay.”  I heard a male’s voice, the same, soft one from earlier.  My brown eyes locked with his blue ones.  “Hey, hey, hey,” he continued to say, “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

I didn’t know why then, but I found myself comfortable in his presence.  “Who are you? Why did you save me?” I asked.  He was with them, when they began to rob me.  Then, why did he stop them from hurting me?

"I’m Hans.  Hans Devis.  You’re probably wondering why I just knocked them out, but I couldn’t just stand and watch them hurt a woman,” he briefly explained, as he picked up my duffel bag off the floor and handed it to me.

“Thank you, I guess,” I said, as I took my bag. I clutched it close to my chest, giving me a sense of security.  I looked behind him and contemplated if I should leave or stay.  I chose the former and turned to walk away.

“Where are you going?” I heard Hans call out.  I looked behind me to see him following my footsteps.

“I have to go before your friends wake up,” I replied.

“What about your car?” he asked again.

“It’s out of fuel.  It won’t work,” I answered.

“Right.  But, where are you going?” he asked me again.

“It’s none of your business,” I said, annoyed that he’s still following me.  “Why are you following me? Don’t you have some place to be?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Actually, I don’t.  I’ve lived with those men since I was a child and I don’t think I can go back after the stunt I pulled,” he answered simply.  He did have a point.

We continued to walk, going nowhere in particular. Apparently, Hans was the type that didn’t enjoy silence for too long.  He spoke of how he was involved with the gang in the first place.  He was sold to them as a child.  Whenever he’d object or refuse to take part in their activities, he would be beaten up.  He also mentioned the many times he attempted to escape, only to be caught and brutally beaten.

After an hour or two, I found myself enjoying his talkative nature.  It felt good not to be alone anymore.  During the end of each story he told, he’d never fail to ask me to share my own story. I ended up revealing most of my childhood, but I kept the real reason why I was on the run a secret.  That, he didn’t need to know.

 September 5, 1970 – (Limburg, Germany)

The sun had begun to set again.  For some miracle, Hans and I got to hitch a ride with some people and now, we’d arrived at Limburg.  I had never been here before and neither had Hans.

Since we were both exhausted from the journey, we booked a room at the first motel that we could find.  Hans slept on the floor, while I took the bed.  When the sun’s rays began to fill the room, we woke up, hungry.  Hans went to the shop down the road to buy us something to fill our stomachs, while I went through my purse and mentally began to plan what I should do next.

When Hans came back with a piece of loaf bread and two apples, we immediately devoured it.  When there was no food left, Hans began to ask me questions and I did the same.

“So, are we friends now?” he asked, which took me by surprise.  “I mean, we’ve only known each other since yesterday, and we know each other fairly well.”

“Yeah, I’d call you a friend, just as long as you don’t attempt to rob me again,” I answered, my words laced with humor.

“Sorry about that.  I promise you, it won’t happen again,” he reassured me.

We spoke of other things after that, and I knew that we’d get along just well.  Maybe, it wasn’t so bad to have him around.  After all, he did save my life.

 September 6, 1970 – (Limburg, Germany)

Despite my suggestions to move to the next town, Hans wanted to stay for another night.    “Don’t worry, the gang won’t be here just yet.”  His words, not mine.  Little did he know, it wasn’t the gang I worried about catching me.

I just finished bathing when Hans approached me with the bundle of letters in his hand.        

“What are these?” he asked.

“They’re my mother’s.  I haven’t found time to read them yet,” I answered, slightly annoyed that he went through my stuff.  It appeared Hans did not care about personal space.  I found it safe to assume it had something to do with how he had grown up in a gang.

“It looks interesting.  Maybe they’re love letters!” Hans said, clearly excited.  “Didn’t you say you don’t know your father?” he asked. I nodded as an answer.  “What if the letters are the answer to your questions?” he proceeded to ask.

“I never thought of that,” I replied, as I approached him to unbundle the letters.

Neither of us spoke while we read the letters.  They were indeed letters from my mother’s lover. None of them stood out, but we did note that the man never mentioned his full name and only left his initials for us to figure out.  However, he did mention how he was pleased to have a child, whom I assumed referred to me, but he apologized that my mother would have to care for me on my own.

“A.D.” I muttered.  This man was probably my father.  But, who is he?

I turned to Hans, who hadn’t peeped a word ever since we began reading the letters.  “Hans?” I called for his attention.  He was holding the last letter in his hand, his face, blank.  “Hans?” I called again, moving in front of him.  His eyes met mine and I could see that something was troubling him.  “Are you okay?” I asked, resting my hand on his arm.

“A.D.,” he uttered.  I moved closer to hear his voice.  “Don’t you know who that is?” he asked, his voice, monotone.  I stared at him, confused.  What happened to the talkative, energetic Hans that was just here?

“I know only one man with these initials,” he continued to say.

“What? You… You know who this man is?” I asked, eager for answers.

“A.D.” he began to say, “How many people do you know have those initials?”

I kept my mouth shut, staring at him with question.  Did he really expect me to still be confused if I knew someone with the initials A.D.?

“I’m not entirely sure, but there aren’t many who have these initials,” he continued to mutter.  I dropped my hand to my side, catching his attention.  I stayed silent, waiting for him to tell me who this man was behind the initials.

“Adolf Hitler,” he finally said, after taking a deep breath.

I stared at him, checking if he was just toying with me.  But, no. He was serious.

“Hitler? But, that’s not possible,” I said, breaking the silence.

“It might seem that way, but if my memory is right, these are his initials.  They’re even written the same way!” he continued to claim.

“And how would you know?  He died when you were barely, what?  Two!” I tried to argue.

“Adeline, I may have told you most of my story, but I never told you the real reason I was involved with the gang,” he answered.

I stayed quiet, my silence urging him to continue.

“My father was a Jew, and my mother, German. He fell in love with her long before the war began, so they were able to make their relationship known to their relatives and friends.  But then, the war began.  Hitler led the German army to arrest any Jew in sight,” he breathed out, stopping every now and then to gather himself.

“My father and mother had lain low.  Not doing anything to call unwanted attention. While hiding, my parents met other Jews who were hiding as well.  After some time, their number grew.  More Jews came to seek refuge with their fellowmen.  My father, eventually, was regarded as their leader.”

“One night, German soldiers came to our house, claiming that a Jew lived there.  My father stood in front of my mother, while she shielded me from their eyes.  She pushed me into the bedroom telling me to stay under the bed.  I heard one of the soldiers question their identity.  Apparently, someone leaked information that my father was the leader of a group of Jews in hiding.  Almost immediately, I heard my father struggling and my mother weeping.”

“The soldiers laughed.  They laughed…” Hans muttered, shaking his head.

“Through the slightly open door, I could clearly see that one of the soldiers raised his fist.  He punched my father, while laughing at my father’s attempts to get up.  I remember the sound of my mother pleading that they stop. She even accused them of taking the command of Hitler too far.”

“Still, the soldier continued to hit my father.  Another soldier spoke up, ‘We are told to arrest Jews, unless they have led or hidden a group of Jews.  Then, we have the right to kill on sight.”

“My mother began to kick and scream that they let us go.  They continued to restrain her, struggling since my mother was not a weak woman.  It took a while, but for some reason, the soldiers promised to let my father go at the expense of one night with her. My mother stilled in their hands.  I knew she was considering it.  My mother loved my father, and I knew she was willing to give herself up to save him.  And that’s exactly what she did.”

“The next thing I knew, I heard the sound of slaps and my mother’s wailing.  I covered my ears, trying to dismiss the sound of my mother’s abuse.  I was only two, but I somehow knew what was happening outside the bedroom door.  I heard my father, who I believe was being forced to watch them abuse his wife, calling out my mother’s name.  I heard him plead that they release her.  With hands over my ears, I faintly heard him ask whose command they were under.  One of the soldiers answered, ‘Adolf Hitler.’ The soldiers abused my mother’s body to her last breath.”

“Then, I heard a gunshot and the door of the bedroom opening, making me squeak under the bed.  The soldiers grabbed me from my hiding place, laughing at my stupidity to hide under the bed. They dragged me out, and there, I saw the lifeless bodies of my parents.”

“The soldiers took me with them, torturing me for being half-Jew.  They would constantly mock me for being the child of a Jew and a German.  While they held me captive, some soldiers would often be drunk and unconsciously speak their mind.”

“One night, a drunk soldier came into the cell where they kept me.  He was slurring his words, but I could still understand him.  He began to laugh, telling me how Heinrich was trying his hardest to overpower Hitler.  Heinrich would even command the soldiers to raid towns and homes to search for Jews and capture them, saying it was a command by Hitler.”

“The soldier laughed some more, as he began to recall the night my parents were killed.  Apparently, the soldiers were acting under the false assumption that it was Hitler who had given the command.  Instead, they later found out that it was Heinrich.  He’d lied and blamed it on Hitler, thinking it would benefit him.  He had wanted more power, and he had wanted Hitler’s position.”

“After a month or two, the soldiers were to be stationed in another town.  So, they sold me to the gang, since they didn’t want to bring me along.”

“I spent my teenage years resenting Heinrich for his cruelty. I realized that none of that would’ve happened, and my parents wouldn’t have died a cruel death, if Hitler would’ve reprimanded Heinrich for his acts.  Then, I began to hate Hitler too.  He could’ve easily stopped Heinrich and the inhumane acts against Jews, but he never did. He sat in his power, just watching everything transpire,” Hans ended.

I stared at Hans, shocked at everything that he just told me.  His parents were dead.  He was abused by soldiers, mocking him for being half-Jew.  Heinrich was envious of Hitler’s position.

Then, I stared at the letter I held in my hand.  The initials A.D. called for my attention.  Adolf Hitler was my father?  I tried to remember anything my mother said about my father.  Nothing came to me.  She always avoided talking about him.  Although, I do recall her saying my name was inspired by my father’s.  Adeline, Adolf…

“I’m sorry, Adeline, for dropping everything on you like this,” Hans apologized.    

I nodded, unable to say anything.  I couldn’t find the right words to say.  Was I meant to apologize for what Heinrich did to his parents?  Was I meant to apologize for being Hitler’s daughter?  Or was I meant to sympathize with him?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” I said, breaking the silence.

“If you think I want an apology from you, I don’t,” Hans reassured me.

“I’m not blaming you for being the daughter of Hitler.”

I nodded again, still at a loss for words.

It was almost midnight as I laid in bed unable to sleep.  Hans was on the floor.  At least for him, sleep wasn’t hard to attain.    

As I stared at the ceiling, I allowed my thoughts to wander. Hitler was my father.  But how?  Obviously, I couldn’t figure that out on my own.  Only my dead mother, Eva, would have the answers to my questions.

After another hour or so, I finally fell asleep.

 BACK TO THE PRESENT

September 7, 1970 – (Limburg, Germany)

I woke up when the sunlight lit the room.  Although I was happy that I got some sleep, it wasn’t the best.  I felt groggy and void of any energy to get out of bed.  I turned to my side and looked at Hans’s sleeping figure.  He must’ve been really tired, since he’s usually up before I did.  I took one last look at him and forced myself to get up.

“I doubt I’d fall back to sleep, so I might as well get us something to eat,” I said to myself, as I took my coat from the chair, put it on, and headed out.

I was on my way back to the motel with some apples and croissants when I was pulled into an alley.  I opened my mouth to call for help, thinking, “Why is this happening to me again? I must have some curse on me.” But before I could even make a sound, a large hand clamped down on my mouth, silencing me.

“Keep that trap shut, princess,” a male whispered in my ear.

I looked around, hoping someone… anyone would pass by.  But it was still early in the day, the streets were practically empty aside from the occasional individuals.  I struggled against his grip, but he didn’t budge.

Next thing I knew, I was being pushed into a car, where another man was waiting.  He immediately grabbed my left arm, preventing me from any chance of escaping. I felt something sharp and cold against my neck, reminding of the time I was almost robbed.  The time I met Hans.

 “Hans!” I screamed in my head.  I could only hope he was awake and looking for me.  Those were my last thoughts, before a cloth was held to my nose, rendering me unconscious.    

My mind went blank, but then the memories of being taken (again) had me with my eyes wide open.  I was in a cell, a small one.  It had no windows, and metal bars kept me from what was outside.

“HELP!” I screamed, praying someone would hear my cries.

“HELP! SOMEONE, ANYONE! PLEASE, HELP…” I cried out again, as I felt tears run down my cheeks.

“How did I end up here?” I thought to myself, as I sat in a cold, dark cell.  I had my knees up to my chest, with both arms wrapped around it, which gave me both a sense of comfort and warmth.

“Oh Mama, if only you were here.  You would know the right thing to do,” I uttered softly.  My voice cracked with sobs that soon followed.  I knew I had lost a battle that I did not know I was a part of, well, that was until four days ago.  But, what now?  I was caught. And I knew, I would die soon.

Then I heard the sound of a door opening.    

“Hello?” I said, a glimmer of hope running through me.  I pressed my face against the bars, trying to see who was there.  Maybe it was Hans.

“You’re awake,” a male voice stated.

I shivered out of fear.  He wasn’t here to help.    

“My boss would be pleased to know you’re here.  You traveled quite a distance, young lady.  I’m surprised we didn’t get to you sooner,” he continued to say.

“Who are you?” I asked, building up the courage to finally get some answers, “Why are you chasing me?”

“Haha,” he scoffed sarcastically.  “Do you think you’re in the position to be asking the questions here? Aren’t you the one caged?”

“I know you killed my mother.  And I know you’ll kill me too.  So, I might as well know why you want me dead,” I answered clearly.  I knew I didn’t have much time before they decided I shouldn’t live another minute.

“You aren’t wrong, miss,” he said, amused at my courage to demand answers.  “Well, since you’ll most likely be dead the minute the boss sees you, I’ll give you the pleasure of knowing.  Your father murdered my boss’ wife in cold blood.  But your father, he didn’t stop there.  He got rid of her body, so my boss couldn’t give her a proper burial.”

The man continued, “But what was worse was that she was pregnant. She was only in her second trimester and she never got to tell our boss the news.  Instead, he found a note pinned to the door of his house.  Every letter written using blood.   Hitler congratulated him for the child, saying that they were no equals.  He even blamed my boss for trashing his reputation, but it wasn’t true.  All these he did, just because she was a Jew!”

My legs gave out, taking in what he just said about my father. “It was revenge?  Revenge for what?” I tried to figure out.  Then, I remembered what Hans told me.  “Could it be?” I thought to myself.

“Who… Who is your boss?” I asked.

“You’ve probably heard of him.  His name is Heinrich Himmler.  Your father’s right-hand man,” he answered.  My suspicions were right.  Hitler must’ve found out about Heinrich’s atrocities in his name and taken revenge.

“But…” I began to say, but I stopped.  I quickly contemplated whether or not I should tell him of what his boss did to deserve what he got.  Concluding that it would not benefit me, I decided to just ask another question.  “Why are you blaming me for what my father has done?”

“You don’t get it, miss.  Your father took away his child’s life and it’s only right for my boss to do the same.  A wife for a wife.  A child for a child,” he calmly replied.

I covered my mouth, sobbing.  I was mad that my father was the reason why they killed my mother.  He was the reason why my life is no longer my own. I was wanted dead, because of him.  

 After some time had passed, I found myself being beaten.  Worse, my body had become their toy.  I couldn’t scream, I no longer felt anything.  I could feel my soul leaving my body.

The next thing I knew, gunshots fill the room.  Bodies started to drop dead.  I closed my eyes, preparing for the same fate.

“ADELINE!” a voice called out. I could faintly hear it, but it sounded familiar.

“Hans…,” I whispered.

“ADELINE! Wait for me,” Hans continued to call out.  “Don’t close your eyes!”

I felt arms lift me from the ground.  Hans’s face filled my vision.  I could feel him running, bringing us to safety.

Gunshots followed.  I knew we were being chased.  I knew we wouldn’t be able to outrun them, especially with me in Hans’ arms.

I lifted my hand and placed it on his cheek.  I stroked it lightly, smiling at the man who saved me again. “Thank you,” I whispered.

My eyes met his, and I knew what he wanted to say, but before he could, he stopped running and dropped to his knees, causing me to fall to the ground.  I watched his eyes close and his shirt get soaked with his blood.  I cried out, but even I couldn’t hear my voice.  

“HANS,” I cried out weakly, wrapping my arms around his body. I begged that he would live and that I would take his place. 

But the fate was harsh.  

My arms wrapped around my friend’s dead body, I felt a bullet pierce my chest, through my heart, and out.

With that, all I see is black.

[thecolorinyoureye]

Golden Hour

It’s the perfect time of day. The sun is setting, the sky is a beautiful orange, the air is crisp and cool to the skin, and the atmosphere is just almost fairy tale-like.

It was around 4pm during the summer of 2007. The sun was beginning to set and gave off a beautiful golden glow. My favorite time of day was fast approaching. It wasn’t too hot, not too cold. It was getting dark, but there was still enough light to see your surroundings. The breeze was soft to the skin and made the leaves and flowers look like they’re swaying to the command of the wind. From my seat, I had the perfect view of the front of the ALC building and the soccer game on the field. That afternoon was picture-perfect.

I heard laughter and turned to my right. I looked at my friends who were engaged in talking about what had happened in class earlier that day. We were in a nipa hut, one that wasn’t so well-maintained. The straw roof had dozens of leaves and straws poking out of it. Some nails and wood planks were missing from its original spot and you could hear some squeaking when you moved around. Reidonne and Yasmin sat on my right, while Jeanne sat on my left.

“Do you remember when Ate PR tripped kanina?” Yasmin said, though you could barely understand her since she was giggling as she spoke.

“Oo, she fell in front of Kuya Tony-Ben pa,” Jeanne replied, making all of us laugh at the memory of Ate PR’s ugly fall in front of her crush.

“HAHAHA KAWAWA SI ATE!” Reidonne added, as she expressed fake pity towards her older sister. They always had that kind of sibling bond. If you asked me, I bet they wouldn’t even last five minutes without bickering.

Our conversation on this topic lasted for at least another three minutes.

“I wanna play pets,” I blurted out to my friends. It has been over four days since we last played, since the hype was now on Barbie.

“Uy yeah, let’s play!” Jeanne exclaimed. She clearly shared the same excitement I had when it came with playing with our stuffed animals.

“Barbie na lang,” Reidonne said with a sigh. I could understand why she wanted to play Barbie, instead of pets. She had just gotten a new Barbie house, one that can fold away. But we’ve already played Barbie for two days straight now.

It was two against one, so either Yasmin chose pets, or she chose Barbie. For some reason, we would always end up with a split decision and Yasmin was always our tie-breaker.

“Ummm,” Yasmin muttered. All our eyes were on her, as we silently pleaded for her to choose our side. “I think I wanna play pets din,” Yasmin said softly.

“YAY!” Jeanne shouted, obviously happy that we won this time. Poor Reidonne, but we already played Barbie with her two days straight.

Though for some reasons, we never got around to playing. Instead, we carried on talking about homework, Disney, and who liked who now.

“Uy, it’s Jace and Timothy!” Jeanne screamed, as she waved at them.

We all turned to face the staircase of the ALC building and saw a group of boys walking down, sporting their basketball jerseys. Reidonne and Yasmin waved as well and maybe said their hi’s and hello’s too. But, I couldn’t hear them that well. My eyes just focused on Jace, one of my best guy friends since I could remember. Our parents were good friends, so we were usually together when we attended events with our parents. Since we were of the same age, we got along surprisingly well. I was even able to persuade him to play pets with me once, but with the condition that I would play cars with him, which I honestly didn’t mind and really enjoyed.

He and his friends walked towards us, for whatever reason they had. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. My eyes were fixed on my blond-haired friend. Though his hair was messy, it still looked good on him. Being young and obsessed with the fairy-tale endings, I was immediately filled with thoughts of him being my prince that would bring me my happy-ever-after. He’d be the prince that would whisk me away to my castle where we would have dessert for every meal. I could almost imagine my eyes turning into the shape of red hearts.

But then I blinked and looked away. “What is happening?” I asked myself. I never saw Jace as someone special, let alone cute. Eh?

I looked back up when I saw movement with my peripheral vision. As he came closer, he called my name.

“Iris,” he said. I felt heat rush to my cheeks, for sure making me blush. I couldn’t find the energy to reply, so instead, I waved. I could faintly hear the others talking, but I couldn’t register a word they said. It was only when he stood directly in front of me, that I noticed that he had his right hand behind his back.

A second or two later, he pulled out a pink gumamela from his back and handed it to me. I took it, still blushing, probably looking like a tomato at this point, and looked at him with question on my face, as if asking, “What is this for?”

I could hear the teasing happening in the background, but my brain was too preoccupied with what just happened. I looked at the flower and back at him. I repeated this at least thrice, so I probably looked like I had some neck strain that I was trying to stretch out.

“I promised you a flower. It’s your favorite, right?” he answered my unspoken question. I felt my forehead crease and my eyebrows go up.

I was sure that my favorite flower was a sunflower, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Instead, I just shifted my feet, looked up, and smiled at him.

”AYIIEE!!” My friends teased.

“Jace and Iris sitting on a tree..,” the boys sang.

I blushed some more, if that was even possible. My heart was still racing from my day-dreaming earlier and honestly thought he could hear its every thump. All of the sudden, I felt my shy nature hit me in the face. I never enjoyed being the center of attention, so I did what I first thought of.

I ran away with the flower in my hand, as I fled from my prince.  Like a damsel in distress.

[thecolorinyoureye]

Home Away From Home

Baguio, a second home, a second family.

Baguio is known as the Summer Capital of the Philippines. Its sights, weather, and people are one for the books. Nowadays, Baguio’s popularity has tripled, and most hotels are fully booked all year round. It’s much harder to genuinely enjoy the serenity that Baguio has to offer, even with the roads filling up with transportation vehicles and the parks overflowing with visitors.

Baguio is actually the province where my mother was born and raised. So, whether or not Baguio had made a name for itself, I would have visited the area anyway. I spent most of my summers and new year celebrations in Baguio, in the house where my mother grew up in, and I’ve come to love Baguio for how it is. Although I saw my trips to Baguio as an escape from hectic and always busy Manila, Baguio had a charm to it that made me forget the city life. Actually, it wasn’t the Mines View Park or the Burnham Park that stole my heart, though they were minor factors; instead, it was the people that made me feel at home, even if I was considered a Manila girl.

Whenever we would visit our relatives in Baguio, we would hardly (and I mean, hardly) leave the house. It was always a rare occasion for us to visit the malls like SM Baguio (where the whole mall is practically free of any air-conditioning devices) and even stroll around Session Road (where you can find your usual fast-food restaurants and maybe, come across tents that have clothes, toys, and electronics for sale). Although, we would usually make it a point to carve out time to visit the Good Shepherd store a day before we head down the mountain to buy peanut brittle, ube jam, and strawberry jam for our friends back in Manila. (Pasalubong was, is, and will continue to be a must.) Our visits and trips to the Summer Capital was rarely ever targeted to visit a particular place, but to enjoy the comfort and company Baguio has to offer. Maybe, it was the fact I had relatives almost everywhere in Baguio that made me feel at home. Or it could’ve been the general residents of the province (who are oddly welcoming, probably because they’re so used to seeing foreign and local visitors). But, whether or not they were my kin, not once have I felt like I didn’t belong.

Baguio has never failed to give me that warm feeling in my stomach (butterflies, maybe), which is an obvious contradiction to the constant cool breeze and chill atmosphere. I could honestly walk around the city and have at least ten individuals send a smile down my way. In fact, some would even approach me to ask if I were lost (though sometimes, they speak in their dialect that I sadly do not understand aside from simple words). Since English is my default medium of communication, the people would almost automatically shift and begin to speak the English they know for conversation’s sake. Sometimes, their choice of words would be too jumbled that I have to contain my laughter and giggles at their sweet effort to establish dialogue. Instead, I would usually end their self-inflicted torture and tell them that I can actually speak and understand Tagalog, which most of them know as their second language. After that “grand reveal,” we would usually share a laugh and the conversation would easily take its course from there.

Just like the more urbanized cities in the country, Baguio has its very own night market. It is where numerous vendors would gather together and sell a wide variety of items. You could find anything from food to accessories to homeware to spare car parts. You would most probably find a dozen peculiar items, before finding the good stuff. I personally have picked up a few rather odd items from the night market. One of which was an antique copy of William Goldman’s The Princess Bride. The pages were extremely crisp to the touch, you would have to turn the pages with extreme care or else, you would end up with a crumbly book. The front and back cover of the book were still surprisingly intact and in a relatively good condition. It had a velvety feeling to the fingers and had gold letterings of the title and author. The gold beautifully complimented the navy-blue cover. However, its spine was no longer that sturdy to hold the book together as it should. A few careless drops and the book would most likely fall apart. Nevertheless, I would still consider the book a good find, considering I got it for only a couple pesos. Although if you’re lucky (or a diligent shopper at least), I can guarantee that you would come across branded goods, like Nike, Adidas, and Puma. In fact, my older sister was able to score some Adidas clothing! She got a blood-red jacket and two sport-y tops (one in navy blue and the other in white with pink detailing). Another great thing about the night market was that you could definitely ask for a discount when buying a bulk of items. The vendors were easy to haggle with, as opposed to the vendors from Manila. Without a shadow of a doubt, I would definitely return for another go at the night market.

Baguio with all its knick-knacks should be on everyone’s bucket list. Aside from the fantastic views and the drool-worthy arrays of food, the company is definitely what stands out among the rest. Whether it’s the day or the night, the Summer Capital of the Philippines was, is, and will be – for sure – the place to be. I sure am blessed to be able to call it my ‘home away from home.’

[thecolorinyoureye]

More Than What Meets The Eye

It was the 20th of March. The day chosen to hold the Tribute Concert and Memorial Service in honor of Teacher Vics Samon. It was the day parents, teachers, and students shared their anticipation and excitement since the earlier days of March.

The weather and overall atmosphere was rather humid and extremely sunny. Though it was nearing the time where the sun would set, gracing us with the pleasure of the cool night’s breeze, the sun seemed to make the most of its stay. Within its remaining hour or two to shine, the sun was extra generous with its rays of sunshine, making the concrete roads shine a little too bright to the naked eye. People on the streets were squinting and had beads of sweat dripping down the side of their faces. Due to the intense heat, people were fidgeting restless, as they tried everything to keep themselves cool. This made me anxious and worried that the attendees of the event would not enjoy the program as much as they could. The sanctuary hall did not exactly have the best air-conditioning system and ventilation.               

Nearing the school property, I expected to see people just as restless and sweaty as those on the road. However, I was greeted with a different scene. Instead of people waving fans in front of their faces for an extra breeze of air or huddling under the shade given by the trees, the people were surprisingly calm. Well, the majority were, setting aside the frantic student organizers, who couldn’t stand still even for a minute or two. People were chatting here and there, probably catching up with one another.

Once I entered the sanctuary hall, the chairs were mostly filled, with exception of a few empty seats in between groups of people. Almost everyone was engaged in dialogue, and it was pleasing sight to see as this event brought people together again.

The sanctuary was filled with chatters from one end to the other. However, all grew quiet once the emcee, Sir Francis Lim, announced the start of the program. He began with welcoming everyone who attended, giving special recognition to the family of Teacher Vics, who were seated in the front row seats. This was later followed by the opening prayer given by Pastor Abe Quizora. While he did so, students were wiggling in their seats, probably on edge as they waited for their turn to perform.

The singing of songs came after the prayer, and the audience were invited to sing along with those on stage. The praise and worship leaders were composed of selected grade nine and ten students, who were sectioned by team. The songs that were performed were “Hosanna,” “Oceans,” “Even When It Hurts,” “10, 000 Reasons,” and “Mighty to Save” (not in that specific order).  This segment started out with a sweet sing-along song, then later escalated to a more ‘you listen while we sing’ atmosphere. Then some of the audience even sat down before we were instructed to, because of the long duration of the praise and worship.  In fact, even my own knees where shaking because of the long day that I’ve had so far. Still, the notable effort given by the students to practice showed in their performances.

After the singing of songs segment, Cornerstone Academy’s dear Principal Alice Foronda and Grade 9’s Class President Meshach Domingo gave their short yet sweet opening remarks, where both expressed their gratitude and appreciation to those who carved out time to attend. They also reiterated that the whole event was in honor of Teacher Vics. They were soon followed by the special number by the Senior Class (Grades 11 and 12) of Cornerstone Academy, who collectively sang “Good, Good Father” and the video presented by the advisory class of Teacher Vics. More students, parents, and teachers spoke on stage after. Some of them performed and dedicated songs for Teacher Vics, while others spoke of their memory of her and how she has massively impacted their personal life. Tears were shed, laughter was present, and comfort was given.

The whole program went by like a flash. One person after another spoke and sang. There were too many things happening at once that I honestly found it difficult to fully appreciate the event at the moment. It was only during the closing remarks given by the School’s Director Marlene Ferido that I was able to come to terms with what had just transpired. Taking inspiration from the stories said during the eulogies, she mentioned how “a teacher is remembered not by how they teach, but by how they handle their students,” and that “Cornerstone Academy is more than just a school, it is a community.”

Though, I was seated outside the glass door of the sanctuary hall at that time, those words were loud and clear to my ears. Mrs. Ferido’s words rang true. The event was a collective effort by the Cornerstone Academy community (meaning the school staff, teachers, and students) and was spearheaded by Teacher Vics’s advisory class. The parents and other attendees came to the event voluntarily. Not all schools would be as supportive and cooperative as Cornerstone Academy. I would even go as far to say that this school is one of its kind. Cornerstone Academy is more than what meets the eye.

This school year has been rather rough with everything that has been going on. School staff, teachers, and students are pressed for time with the school year about to end in just over a month. People are working with a tight schedule that involves work, family, friends, events, and what-nots. But whenever a time of need pops up, most are more than willing to make time for it. No matter how busy or how tired these people are, I can guarantee that they will be present when needed.

Cornerstone Academy is, indeed, more than what meets the eye. It’s more than just a school. It is a community.

[thecolorinyoureye]

The Book of Ruth: Boaz’ Perspective

This story has a combination of fictional and non-fictional characters. The main plot was inspired by the Book of Ruth.

“What a long treacherous day it has been!” I exclaimed loudly, walking on the dirt road that led to my land.

“But, my lord,” my servant, Ezekiel, said, “You are returning home with great victory!  For you have achieved more than what you have sought out.”

Entering the gates of Bethlehem, I am greeted by the people.  However, aside from the greetings, I overhear a rumor that Naomi, Elimelek’s wife, has returned.  Elimelek was my relative, a very good one at that.  He had left our land because of the famine that has now passed.  However, I had already received the news of his death due to illness, as well as his two sons.  But apparently, Naomi has returned, and she wasn’t alone.

“Who is this woman that Naomi brought with her?” I asked Ezekiel.

“The woman’s name is Ruth, a Moabite.  She was married to one of Elimelech’s sons,” Ezekiel replied.

“Elimelek had two sons.  Where is the other daughter-in-law?” I asked.

“Orpah is her name.  She went back home to her people and her gods,” Ezekiel explained.  This made me wonder why Ruth had not done the same.  It is customary for a widow to return to their mother land, once the spouse is deceased.  As I understood my servant’s words, my curiosity grew, as well as my respect for the Moabite. She had come to a foreign land and followed Naomi, her mother-in-law.  

As I continued my walk, I meet my harvesters, whom I greeted with a strong voice, “The LORD be with you!”

“The LORD bless you!” they answered.

My eyes scanned the land I owned.  I did not know what I was looking for, but my eyes searched through the harvesters and the field.  As my eyes caught an unfamiliar face, I asked the overseer of my harvesters, “Whom does that young woman belong to?”

My overseer replied with haste, as he knew whom I was referring to.  “She is the Moabite who came back from Moab with Naomi.  She said, ‘Please let me glean and gather among the sheaves behind the harvesters.’  She came into the field and has remained here from morning till now, except for a short rest in the shelter.”

“So, this is the Moabite, Ruth,” I thought to myself, as I looked her over.  She stood differently from the rest.  Her posture, her skin tone, and her eyes.  They all stood differently from what I had become accustomed to in my land.  But the difference was not upsetting.  Instead, it had left me intrigued at the woman before my eyes.

I walked over to the gleaning Moabite and said, “My daughter, listen to me.  Don’t go and glean in another field and don’t go away from here.  Stay here with the women who work for me.  Watch the field where the men are harvesting and follow along after the women.  I have told the men not to lay a hand on you.  And whenever you are thirsty, go and get a drink from the water jars the men have filled.”

At my words, she dropped down with her face to the ground and asked, “Why have I found such favor in your eyes that you notice me—a foreigner?”

I willed her to stand up, but the Moabite is stubborn.  She was adamant to show her respect and surrender to my title, as the one who owned the land she was on.  My respect and admiration for her qualities grew ten times more.  “My, my young woman.  You are indeed different,” I said to myself.

With her face still to the ground, I replied, “I’ve been told all about what you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband—how you left your father and mother and your homeland and came to live with a people you did not know before. May the LORD repay you for what you have done.  May you be richly rewarded by the LORD, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.”  My words were woven with the respect and admiration that had grown for her within the day.

As I stared at her crouched form, she began to lift her head up.  Her eyes met mine, as my own met hers.  Caught in the wonders of her eyes, I heard her words, “May I continue to find favor in your eyes, my lord,” she said.  “You have put me at ease by speaking kindly to your servant—though I do not have the standing of one of your servants.”

“I vow to speak in such a manner, as you continue to stay with Naomi,” I responded.  “Ruth,” I wanted to say to the woman, “you beguile me.  Why is it that you chose to stay and obey?  Though I am of title, I have not earned the respect you show me.”  Instead, I nodded at her and turned away.  

 At mealtime I went to her and said, “Come over here. Have some bread and dip it in the wine vinegar.”

As she sat down with the harvesters, I reached out and offered her some roasted grain.  She ate all she wanted and had some left over.  I saw her take what she had not eaten and wrap it with cloth.  

As she got up to glean once more before the sunset, I turned to face my men and gave orders, “Let her gather among the sheaves and don’t reprimand her.  Even pull out some stalks for her from the bundles and leave them for her to pick up, and don’t rebuke her.”

The sky darkened as the Moabite continued to glean in the field, and it was until later that she gathered the barley to bring home.  As I stood in front of the window of my home, I stared at Ruth, with the knowledge of where she was headed.  “She is a hard worker,” I thought with admiration, as I lay to rest and into deep slumber.

 Days have passed, and I was pleased to see Ruth close to the other women.  She had taken my offer and gleaned only in my fields.  “You are obedient, just as you are respectful.  Though I have not taken you as a servant, you have taken me as your master.”

“You will be safe here, that I promise,” I spoke to the air.  I had wanted her to hear my words, but I knew it was not time for formalities out of the norm of the land.

 That night, I was set to winnow the harvested barley on the threshing floor.  Once I had done so, I ate and drank and was in good spirits.  As I went to lay at the far end of the grain pile, I was consumed by deep slumber.  However, it was not long until I was awoken by a noise.  I turned to my side—and there was a woman lying at my feet!

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am your servant Ruth,” the Moabite woman said.  “Spread the corner of your garment over me, since you are a guardian-redeemer of our family.”

As I lay, my heart raced at the words spoken by the woman before me.  “The LORD bless you, my daughter,” I replied.  “This kindness is greater than that which you showed earlier: You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor.  And now, my daughter, don’t be afraid.  I will do for you all you ask.  All the people of my town know that you are a woman of noble character.  Although it is true that I am a guardian-redeemer of our family, there is another who is more closely related than I.   Stay here for the night, and in the morning if he wants to do his duty as your guardian-redeemer, good; let him redeem you.  But if he is not willing, as surely as the LORD lives, I will do it.  Lie here until morning.”  With the release of my words, I was once again taken by slumber.

As the sun rose in the sky, I looked to my side and Ruth lay there still.  I got up, as she did the same.  I walked out of the threshing room and turned to my harvesters who had stayed the night as well.  To them, I said, “No one must know that a woman came to the threshing floor.”  They nodded their heads, as a sign of acknowledgment to my words.  

I turned to enter the room again and said “Now, Ruth, bring me the shawl you are wearing and hold it out.”

Ruth did as I instructed, and into her shawl, I poured her six measures of barley and placed the bundle upon her. “Don’t go back to your mother-in-law empty-handed,” I said as I watched her walk way.

 While Ruth returned home, I went up to the town and met with the other guardian-redeemer.  As he was of closer blood to Elimelek, he had the right to their land and to Ruth before I did.  We sat, along with ten elders of the town, gathered to discuss the property and women involved.

I turned to guardian-redeemer and said, “Naomi, who has come back from Moab, is selling the piece of land that belonged to our relative Elimelek. I thought I should bring the matter to your attention and suggest that you buy it in the presence of these seated here and in the presence of the elders of my people.  If you will redeem it, do so.  But if you will not, tell me, so I will know.  For no one has the right to do it except you, and I am next in line.”  

Though my heart tore at my words, I knew I had to do what was right.  If I were to redeem both the land and the Moabite, the LORD will grant me permission.  However, if I were not to redeem both the land and the Moabite, still the LORD will watch over Elimelek’s land and his daughter-in-law.

As the guardian-redeemer looked up at me, he said, “I will redeem it.”

“May the LORD watch over you and your land and your people,” I said to the heavens.

As a response to the guardian-redeemer, I announced, “On the day you buy the land from Naomi, you also acquire Ruth the Moabite, the dead man’s widow, in order to maintain the name of the dead with his property.”

At this, the guardian-redeemer shifted at his seat and said, “Then I cannot redeem it because I might endanger my own estate.  You redeem it yourself.  I cannot do it.”  He then removed his sandal and passed it to me.  This sealed the transaction and made our deal official.

At his words, I was overjoyed. The LORD has granted me the land and the Moabite.  I stood and loudly announced to the elders and all the people, “Today you are witnesses that I have bought from Naomi all the property of Elimelek, Kilion, and Mahlon. I have also acquired Ruth the Moabite, Mahlon’s widow, as my wife, in order to maintain the name of the dead with his property, so that his name will not disappear from among his family or from his hometown.  Today you are witnesses!”

The elders and all the people who had heard, stood and replied, “We are witnesses.  May the LORD make the woman who is coming into your home like Rachel and Leah, who together built up the family of Israel.  May you have standing in Ephrathah and be famous in Bethlehem.  Through the offspring the LORD gives you by this young woman, may your family be like that of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah.”

 As the sun began to set, I rushed to Naomi’s home and announced my redemption of Elimelek’s land and the Moabite woman, Ruth.  Both women were in tears of joy, as their prayers to the heavens had been answered.

“Praise my God, who has taken my husband and two sons!  But has blessed me with a daughter-in-law, who has won my heart and stolen yours,” Naomi exclaimed and wrapped her arms around Ruth and me.

“Indeed, Naomi.  The Moabite, a foreigner to my land, has taken my heart as captive. Praise the God in the heavens for they have brought Ruth to me!” I said to myself.

 Not long after, I took Ruth home and she became my wife.  The LORD continued to bless our union and allowed her to conceive a son, my son.  “Oh my LORD above, who is watching over me.  You have brought me great joy in the form of a Moabite.  A foreigner amongst my people.  You have used her mightily in the life of Naomi and my own.  I praise You for You are good, Oh my LORD.” I uttered these praises to the heavens, as I rejoiced.

I watched as the women said to Naomi, “Praise be to the LORD, who this day has not left you without a guardian-redeemer.  May he become famous throughout Israel!  He will renew your life and sustain you in your old age.  For your daughter-in-law, who loves you and who is better to you than seven sons, has given him birth.”

I continued to watch as Naomi took my son in her arms and cared for him as if he were her own.  “The LORD may have taken, but He has also given us a son,” I said to Naomi.

 We named our son Obed. He became the father of Jesse, the father of David.

[thecolorinyoureye]

Home.

On April 11, everything changed. For both the good and bad. 

The news of cancer is never welcomed with open arms. It’s fascinating how such news can make a place you call home can suddenly lose the sense of comfort it previously gave off.

           At exactly 4 o’clock am on the 11th of April, the beeping sound of your morning alarm beings to blare itself across the room, waking you up from your deep slumber.  Groaning softly, after rubbing your eyes, you take in the familiar surroundings of your bedroom.  The curtains slightly open, letting in the growing light of the rising sun, which begins to brighten the previously dark room.  You notice that the ceiling fan is surprisingly turned off, making you turn to the side and feel the warm, empty spot where your older sister laid.  Knowing your sister is a natural early bird, you dismiss the panic in your chest.  But, the noise of people in the kitchen urge you to get up and check what’s going on.  Approaching the kitchen with soft, light steps, your fingers gliding across the scratchy, paint-chipped walls, you see your whole family awake and gathered at the medium-sized round table.  You see your dad in his usual seat by the cupboard, munching away one some toasted bread.  Next to him is your mom, in her worn-out duster laughing at whatever your sisters are saying.  On the other side of the table are your sisters, both fully engaged in telling the events of yesterday, their eyes big and round as opposed to their normal almond shape.  You join them at the table, after muttering a “good morning” followed by a yawn.  As your family continue to tell their kwentos of the day before, the food on the table disappears into your stomachs.

           Taking your last few bites of breakfast, you look around at the sight before.  The day-old flowers on the counter, last year’s family Christmas card displayed at the far edge of the table, cramped-up kitchen stove, big white refrigerator, old marble titles, the split of pale green and pastel pink paint on the walls, and the dented cupboard radiates the comfort of home, where nothing can hurt you, where you shield yourself from the pain of the outside world.  Remembering your plans with your friends later that day, you feel the excitement coursing through you.

           “It’s gonna be a good day,” you tell your family.  Using your peripheral vision, you see your mom nod and shift closer to the table.

           “Remember when I said that I have an announcement to make yesterday?”  your mom addresses, getting the attention of everyone.

           “Yup, what about it?  Are we doing this now?”  Your eldest sister questions, with a look that screams curiosity.  Your mother nods once again, causing you to feel butterflies in your belly.  Your mom talks about the car trouble earlier this year and then goes on to talk about how God blesses us with events we like and don’t like.  She also mentions how we’re meant to respond to such blessings, that we should celebrate regardless.

           “I have Christ in my life, the biggest C there is,” she says.

           “I also have Catalino, my husband, my stronghold.” Then an eerie, deafening silence follows. You see your mom take a deep breath, which unintentionally makes you do the same.

           “And now,” she begins to say, “I have another C to celebrate.”  Still silence is making your insides turn with fear.

           “I have cancer,” your mom says, as it were no big deal.  Tears begin to make their way down your cheeks, your face suddenly drenched, and all you hear are the sobs of your sisters.

           You have yet to fully take in what your mom just said, and you find yourself staring right at last year’s family Christmas card.  For some reason, your eyes focus on the verse found at the bottom of the card.

Hebrews 13:8, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”

          Your eyesight begins to blur as more tears fall down your cheeks.  Your heart instantaneously finds peace in those ten words.  You turn to the side to see your sister sobbing so loud, it was all you could hear.  The very same sisters you viewed as strong.  The very same sisters you knew you could run to always.  Then and only then do you understand that your mother is ill.  Your mother who you know you’ve neglected and taken for granted.  That same mom, whose arms can calm you from anything and everything.  That same mom you just assumed would stay alive as long as you did.  That very same mom, who is now diagnosed with cancer.

          Turning your head to her right, you see your dad shed a tear.  The man, who rarely expresses emotions, is crying inside.  Just the sight of that tear rolling down his cheeks makes you come to reality that this is all real.  That it isn’t some nightmare you could wake up from.  That you are in the confines of your own home, surrounded by the people you truly love to the ends of the world.

          Suddenly, the two-toned walls no longer make you feel at home.  The sight of the family pictures makes you feel as if you were in a foreign household, decorated with items you know would complete a home, your home.  The supposedly familiar marble titles emphasized the cold of the morning air, which your body was beginning to recognize.

          With tears still streaming down your face, you take another look around, taking in the sight before you, and thinking “this place is no longer home.”

[thecolorinyoureye]

Masculinity, To Me

What makes up a man, particularly a man of God?

He that loves sincerely,

devotes himself wholly,

fears appointed authority,

obeys commands joyfully.

He that lives purposefully,

serves as a testimony.

He that reflects the living Deity,

to me, embodies masculinity.

[thecolorinyoureye]

A Child’s Imagination

Every child dreams, every child’s imagination runs with optimal freedom. One minute, they visualize living in space, the next they’re stuck in the darkness with their worst fears coming to life.

The International Graduate School of Leadership (IGSL) is a school that trains pastors-to-be and houses their families. The area, where IGSL is located, is simple and well-suited for families from all around the world. The green soccer field, the metal-based playground, the vintage-looking library, the dorm-inspired housing, and the mixed scents of the different nationalities residing in the same area screamed family-friendly.

To many, this place served as a temporary home away from home. Countless individuals and families arrived, only to leave after the span of two to four years. Polly, on the other hand, called the very same place home. The only home she’s ever known.

Polly and her family moved to IGSL back in 2003, meant she’s spent most of her life in IGSL’s four corners. Because she basically grew up here, 9-year-old Polly could easily maneuver her way around with her eyes closed. She knew every corner of area, like the back of her hand. She knew where every single one of her friends lived and knew almost everyone by name.

Because the students of IGSL come from all around the globe, Polly had friends who rarely shared her nationality, language, skin tone, culture, and mannerism. But that didn’t stop the little girl from making friends for life. After all, all kids have a common interest: play.

Every day at four pm, kids of all ages come out to play while the parents either enjoy the new-found silence of their home or gather with other parents.

Polly and her friends started off playing around the soccer field with their imaginations running wild. The wide, empty space and soft, clean-cut grass turned into outer space, where each one had their own planet and had to hop around to travel. The kids yelled at each other, as if they were miles apart, when the distance couldn’t have been any farther than four feet. Their gestures were big and exaggerated as if gravity did not exist around them.

Later, as the sky grew dark, the group knew it was the perfect time to play hide-and-seek. Thus, the game immediately commenced. As Yasmin, another girl from the group, turned her back to begin counting, everyone else ran as far as they could to hide from Yasmin’s view.

Polly knew exactly where to hide, the same old trusty spot under the staircase. As Polly approached the staircase, she slowed down and ducked under it, crawling. This was Polly’s perfect hideout, no one else knew this spot and not once has she been caught there.

Polly was happily humming, when all of the sudden, the light posts around IGSL began to lose their light. In a matter of seconds, the whole area was pitch black. Polly blinked and rubbed her eyes, as she tried to clear the darkness clouding it. When nothing happened, Polly sucked in a sharp breath, wrapping her little arms around her body. The previously cool breeze now created an uncomfortable, chilly atmosphere.

The sound of heavy steps began to make its way to her ears, stepping on dried leaves and branches. Polly covered her mouth, as it was her natural reaction to threatening situations. She kept silent, not letting out a single peep. Soon enough, the silence came back, Polly could finally breathe properly. Still, sitting on her heels under the staircase, she listened for any suspicious sounds, but heard nothing but her own breathing.

As it was still dark out, Polly refused to move out of her safe spot. Praying that the lights will come back, Polly unintentionally let her imagination run. Because of the environment Polly found herself in, she began to visualize herself standing alone, surrounded by nothing but darkness. She tried to call out, but nothing was heard. She tried walking, but there she stood in the same spot. Feeling the tears pooling in her eyes, Polly let out a whimper. Behind her, the sound of small, slow steps filled the silence. The crunching leaves and snapping branches, indicated that whoever that was walking, was getting closer to where she stood.

Panic immediately racked her little body, but all Polly could do was stand there, vulnerable to whatever could happen. Everything that could scare her, began to pop up around her. A zombie clawing the ground appeared ahead, her biggest fear yet, only a few feet away. Polly wanted to scream, but still something stopped her from doing so. With fear flooding her system, Polly felt the tears stream down her face, leaving it soaked. Feeling a warm gush of air on the back of her neck, Polly stills, her body stiff and rigid. She knew she was completely and utterly vulnerable to whatever or whoever may be behind her.

Suddenly a bright, white light flickers from above, as if a spotlight was directed to where Polly sat. She closed her eyes for a moment, blinded by the unexpected brightness. As she slowly peeled her eyes open, she saw an outline of a figure that stood in front of the shining light. Polly blinked again and again, as if she were trying to get a clearer view of the silhouette. Once her vision adjusted, Polly felt her jaw drop as her eyes took in the glittering, winged creature before her. It was a fairy, another presence that gave Polly a surge of familiarity and comfort. Almost immediately, she forgot about the warm breath on her neck and the zombie on the ground. Polly’s eyes focused solely on the fairy and the wand she had in clutch, who was now only a few feet away. No words were exchanged between the two, but then, no words were needed for them to converse.

Polly nodded at the fairy, as she handed the wand over. Polly’s body moved on its own accord, as she took the wand in her own hands. She looked at it with amazement. She even waved it around to help her mind catch up with the new events. Polly looked back up from the wand; however, the fairy was no longer there. Even the zombie’s traces disappeared.

Lights began to flicker on, which snapped Polly back from the confines of her imagination. Polly looked around and realized she was still under the staircase, perfectly hidden. With a deep breath, Polly slowly crawled out from the little nook, allowing her to be seen and caught by Yasmin.

Blinking back from reality, Polly just shook her little head, little pieces of hair covered her face. The game of hide-and-seek continued, as if the moment of darkness and the encounter with a fairy never happened.

The following morning at the break of dawn, Polly finds herself covered in cold sweat with her heart beating wild. Her little, clammy hands gripped the sheets beneath her as she recalled the events of the night before. Polly thought back to what happened. She tried to recall if anyone else mentioned the black out. But, not one of her friends did. No one spoke of the minutes of darkness. It was almost as if, it was only her that had gone through it. Something stiff under her usually soft pillow caught her attention, which moved Polly to stick her hand under it, wanting to get rid of the source of her new-found discomfort.

Still dazed, Polly’s hand pulled out a wand. The very same wand that the fairy handed her. With over a million questions running through her head, Polly let a small smile crown her face. The fairy was real and only she knew.

[thecolorinyoureye]

His Elise

Wealthy, stoic psychiatrist meets shy, widowed patient at the local clinic, Thursday afternoon.

Love does not need to be mutual for it to be real or felt.

A conscious decision to love is just as beautiful as love that grew unintentionally.

22nd of February 2016 (Monday)

“It’s Monday morning again.  Ten more months before I get out of here,” Zac groaned to himself, as he made his way to the local clinic on the far edge of the city of Boston.  One might’ve thought that the crisp, cool air that plagued the area would help cool his head down and the greenery around him would calm his nerves.  But no, Zac Anderson was a stoic man.  Even at a glance, any bystander would notice his dirty blonde hair, cold blue eyes, chiseled nose and jaw, and bushy brows that gave away his constant irritation.  His posture and broad shoulders hinted at the fact that he never placed his guard down, not even for a minute or two. Maybe it was his burning want to leave Boston to move back to New York that kept Zac from the pleasure of relaxation. Or maybe it was the reason why Zac’s in Boston in the first place.

Suddenly, the soft melody of his ringtone caught his attention.  Zac grabbed his phone from his right pocket, not bothered to check the caller ID and answered with a rude “Hello.”

“Son,” a strong, manly voice answered back.  It was his father.  “It’s been three weeks since you last called.  You are old enough to know when to update your father, your own boss, in this case.”

“You know very well that I wouldn’t need to update my boss, if it wasn’t for the fact he sent me to work in the middle of nowhere!”

“Zac, I have explained to you far too many times why I need you in Boston,” his father sternly explained, “We’ve been expanding the company’s territories and the clinic isn’t doing well.  If you want it to stay and grow, your presence is needed to help it get through, at least for now son.”

“We have clinics all over the states!  Some of which you don’t even care about and we’ve had to cut off a few of them before!”  Zac angrily reminded his father, “What makes this branch any different?”  

“It was your mothers,” his father replied with a voice so deep, it could drag anyone’s mood down to the ground.  At his father’s reply, Zac said nothing.  Instead, he cut the call and blew out air from his mouth, which eased his tension slightly.

 At exactly 8:02am, Zac set foot into the dainty clinic, just like every other day.  The white-washed walls, brown leather couches, and mustard-yellow clock filled his sight.

“Good morning, Dr. Anderson!”  Maddy greeted with obvious enthusiasm.  Her red, wavy hair swayed as she stood from her seat and her little black dress hugged her slim figure a little too snug.  Many assumed she was a young model; however, she was merely a receptionist by choice.  Despite her shocking age of twenty-two, Maddy was more than capable of accomplishing the tasks assigned to her.  Hence, her credibility for the position.

“Hello Maddy.  Having a nice morning?”  Zac responded, his words coated with boredom.  As he turned his head to look at her, he took note of her choice of wardrobe.  “Hmm,” Zac hummed and proceeded to ask, “Don’t you think that dress is overstepping our policy for modesty?  You look like you just jumped out of a strip club.”

“Of course not!”  Maddy immediately replied, not flinching at his cold tone.  This was normal for her.  Zac never expressed any other emotion aside from anger of various degrees.  “I think it’s flattering to my body.  I mean, I’m only 5’2, so this shows off my legs great!” Maddy reasoned happily.

As Zac approached the door to his office, he continued to say, “Well, there is absolutely no need for anyone to see those legs of yours since you will be seated behind the front desk the entire day.  So if you choose to wear such attire again, consider yourself fired.”  With that, he slammed the door and shut off himself from Maddy and the world.  

“I guess you’re right.  Even you won’t spare me any more than a glance,” Maddy said to herself, as she sat back down.

 As Maddy went through the rusty, metal cabinet containing their clients’ files in the back room.  The sound of the front door caught her attention.

“Um hello?  Is the clinic open?”  A soft voice spilled into the room Maddy was in.

“Yes, it is!  I’m sorry, I’ll be with you in a minute.  Just grabbing some papers!”  Maddy replied to the inquiring voice, as she gathered the needed files.  As she walked out the room to the front desk, a petite woman, who couldn’t be any older than twenty-seven, stood in front of the desk.  The lady’s stark, black hair up in a messy bun perfectly framed her slim, pale face.  Baggy, beige clothing covered her petite figure with red flats on her tiny feet.  But what stood out to Maddy the most was the lady’s brown, round eyes that gave hint to the innocence she possessed.  “Hi there.  I’m Maddy, the receptionist.”

“I’m Elise.  Elise Willows,” the lady replied.

“Nice to meet you, Elise.  How can I help you today?”

“Umm,” Elise hummed unsure of what to say, “I was referred here by a friend.  He said I can talk about…talk to someone here.” Maddy tilted her head slightly at the Elise’s change of words.

“Well, your friend must be a genius!  This is the perfect place for you,” Maddy happily replied.  “How would you like it if we booked you an appointment with one of our very best?”

“Oh yes, please.  I’d really appreciate it,” Elise politely answered, as Maddy handed her the fill-out sheet for her basic information.

 Around 5 minutes later, Elise returned with the now filled paper.  “That was quick. Okay, so you’ll probably receive an email from us regarding your appointment in a day or two,” Maddy informed Elise, as she quickly scanned over the sheet, her eyes zoomed in on Elise’s marital status.  The box next to the word widowed had a check in it.  Maddy connected the dots.  “This must be the reason why she’s here,” she concluded in her head.

“Okay.  Just so you know, I’m free on most days, just not on weekends,” Elise mentioned.  At this Maddy nodded as an acknowledgement to what Elise just said and clicked on her computer mouse a couple of times, as she took note of Elise’s schedule.

“So, I’m guessing sometime this Thursday will be good?” Maddy inquired.

“Like I said, as long as it won’t be on a weekend, I’ll be there,” Elise answered.

“Right.  I’ll see you when I do,” Maddy replied, to which Elise nodded at as she took her leave.  Elise was nearly out the door when Maddy called out, “I would still recommend you checking your email for the deets!”

“I will.  Thanks!”  Elise answered back and disappeared from Maddy’s line of sight.

 It was six pm and the sun was about to set, Zac made his way out of the clinic. “Make sure you lock up,” he said almost out the front door.  “We wouldn’t want a repeat of last time,” he continued to say before the door glided back into place.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!”  Maddy screamed back, annoyed at his behavior.

 25th of February 2016 (Thursday)

The following days went by like a blur to Elise.  She had received the email two days prior from the clinic, saying she was scheduled for Thursday at 3:05 in the afternoon.  “Oh, how I just can’t wait,” she thought to herself sarcastically, as she walked into her medium-sized closet.  As she picked out black mom jeans, a loose cream white top, and her plain ‘ole black sandals, Elise made sure to grab her tiny black purse that always carried her essentials.

As she walked into the living room, the plain white walls reminded her of the clinic she’ll be at soon.  But for now, Elise kept to her thoughts as she appreciated the comfort the room gives.  Out of the two bedrooms, lovely kitchen, and the vintage-looking attic, the living room was her personal favorite.  She has spent so many nights waiting up, cuddled in the fluffiest duvet on the striking red couch.  No one can count how many movies and tv shows she had binged on the 70” flat screen tv mounted on the wall, facing the couch.  Elise squatted down and ran her hand through the white rug that graced the wooden flooring.

Elise shook her head, which caused little pieces of black hair to fall out of her messy up-do.  Elise decided it’s time to go, her thoughts forgotten and left for another day.  

 “Your 3pm is here,” Maddy said to Zac, as she poked her head through the door.

“Send her in,” Zac replied, as he scanned the sheet that contained Elise’s basic information.  He scanned the information with precision and took note of what he needed to know for the first session.  As his eyes focused on the checked box of her marital status, he looked back to the top right corner of the paper which says Elise was only twenty-four.  “Widowed at a young age.  Interesting,” he said to himself.

The sound of footsteps and the door opening made Zac look up and unintentionally stare at the beauty before him.  Her brown eyes screamed emotions.  Emotions which he, himself, refused to feel.  He could tell that she would only come up to his shoulder, if he stood from his seat.  Her petite figure gave her the aura of pure innocence, but Zac knew the danger of assumption.  Zac believed it was never wise to label someone without giving them a chance to show their true colors.  Although other experts in the same profession claimed the opposite and often disagreed with his conviction, Zac stood by his belief.

“Excuse me, Dr. Anderson?”  A soft voice broke Zac’s train of thoughts.

“Sorry about that, Ms. Willows.  Please take a seat,” Zac said, as he gestured her to take the seat in front of his.  Little did Zac know, Elise had just recovered from her shock as her eyes focus on the Adonis of a man before her.  Needless to say, Elise didn’t expect a young psychiatrist to greet her.  But to her genuine surprise a man worthy of being a Greek god sat in front of her.  His messy dirty blonde hair crowned his head.  And his eyes, oh his blue eyes, brought back life to the butterflies in her stomach.  Not to mention his voice, Elise sat stiff, as she tried not to melt at the sound of it.  Instead, it caused her shivers and made her squirm in her seat.  “So, as you know, I’m Zac Anderson, here to be of service.  What brings you here?” Zac began, as he subtly hid his curiosity.

“A friend referred me here.  He said I could…um…get help,” Elise stuttered, as her eyes locked on the city view.

“Well, that friend of yours is right,” Zac exclaimed, his head titled to the right ever so slightly.  “Just for protocol, I’m sure you’ve read the contract when you signed up with Maddy prior to our meeting.”  Elise nodded at his words.  “So please be reassured that nothing you say will get out of these four walls without your consent.  And unless needed, there won’t be a third party.  It’s just you and me,” Zac explained, as he wanted his patient to be comfortable around him.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Elise said softly, which made Zac shift a little closer just to hear her voice.

“Great, why don’t we begin with you telling a bit of yourself?  Maybe something about your family too, if you wish,” Zac urged, the want to understand her case more grew by the second because the sooner he does, the faster the process would be for both of them.  And the sooner, he could leave Boston.

“Well, I’m the youngest of three siblings.  My childhood is as typical as any American girl.  Aside from owning a life-sized Barbie house, nothing too grand happened.  Well, at least nothing too important for me to mention really.  Right now, both of my brothers are happily married with kids and neither reside in the same state as I do.  As for my parents, they passed away a couple years back,” Elise stopped short, as she willed herself not to say too much.  She wasn’t here to talk about her parents’ death.  Elise was done with painfully grief and she had officially completed over twenty sessions with Dr. Smith that helped her cope.  Zac simply nodded at her words, as he took more notes of their session.

“What about your likes, dislikes, hobbies?”  Zac asked to help Elise slowly open up.

“I love baking, something I’ve always enjoyed since Mama spent most of her life in the kitchen.  I pursued culinary arts in college and took extra lessons aside from that.  But, things just didn’t turn out the way I had hoped.”  Elise finished.

Zac nodded again.  He noted down her stiff posture, her delicate hands that twiddled with the strap of her purse, and her eyes focused on the city view through the window adjacent to them.

“It says here,” Zac began again, as he pointed to the clipboard in hand, “you’ve undergone a similar process prior to this.  So, you know the drill, I’m basically here to lend you a listening ear that you could potentially talk-off.”  Zac joked lightly, as he tried to ease the tension in the room.  He hated having clients that take forever to accept the help they asked for.

“Don’t worry, I’ll loosen up when you will,” Elise joked back.  A shy, soft, giggle flowed after her words.  Elise smiled at Zac’s effort to make her comfortable.  It was a sweet and thoughtful act.

The two proceeded with similar questions, all revolving around Elise and her life.  Near the end of the session, Zac laughed at Elise’s embarrassing fieldtrip experience as a kid.  The sight of his face bright with happiness made her heart unintentionally swell.  She immediately wished that this won’t be the last time she would see him in such a state.

“Well Elise, I think we should end today on a good note while we’re at it,” Zac said, as he quietly admired the small smile that played on her lips.

“I guess we should, doctor,” Elise replied, the image of him laughing permanently imprinted in her memories.

“Okay.  I’ll have Maddy message you the date for our next session,” Zac informed, his words slightly coated with his disappointment that their first session has come to an end.

“Alright. Thank you, Dr. Anderson,” Elise said, as she stood from her seat and proceeded to walk to the door that would lead her out of the room.  Zac stayed seated and starred at her figure.  Just before she disappeared from his sight, Elise turned to face him.  “Thank you again.  You’re great at your job.  I didn’t know people could have fun, while discussing what was wrong with them,” she giggled out.  

“Her happiness was contagious,” Zac thought, as he waved goodbye.

As Elise left the building, Zac replayed her words in his head.  “You’re great at your job.” That line playing over and over again.  “Zac,” he said to himself aloud, “what’s wrong with you?  She’s right.  This is your job.  Quit playing around!”

Despite his player tendencies, Zac knew better than to involve his personal life with his job.  Not only was it considered illegal, but Zac would never risk bringing an innocent soul into his complicated life.  He had vowed to never become his father.

 3rd of March 2016 (Thursday)

A week later, on a Thursday afternoon, Elise made her way to the clinic.  Since she knew she’d be there twenty minutes too early for her appointment, her steps slowed down as she strolled through the city of Boston.  As she glanced to her right, her eyes took in the image of a young couple so in love.  “That was us,” Elise thought to herself.  Memories of the year before brought tears to her eyes, but not one fell down her cheek, not one succumbed to gravity’s pull.

Still occupied by her thoughts, a man who hurriedly walked through the same walkway, accidentally bumped into Elise, which caused her fall to the ground.  But before she could even touch it, arms wrapped around her waist. Arms that saved her from embarrassing herself.  “I’M SORRY. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” a voice said.  Elise looked up to see the man who had just seen her clumsy nature first hand.  His messy dark brown hair, strong jaw line, and muscular fit made Elise assume that he must be some model roaming the city. “Ummm, miss? Are you alright? Are you hurt?”  the man continued to say, as he shook her slightly in his arms.

Her trance broken, Elise stood on her own feet, which allowed the stranger to drop his arms to his side.  “Huh?  Oh…right. Don’t worry.  It’s my fault too, I should’ve been more attentive,” she babbled to the stranger. A smirk appeared on his lips.

“I hope you’re not hurt,” the stranger replied

“Not at all, thanks to you,” Elise answered with genuine gratitude.

“I’m Will, by the way,” he said, as he extended his right hand.

“Elise,” she replied and took his stretched hand.

“I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances, but only a few could say that a handsome knight in shining armor saved the damsel from a horrid fall,” Will said, flirtatiously.  Elise giggled at his attempts to woo her.

“Then I better keep a lookout for such events.  It would be such a shame if nothing good came out of one,” Elise replied.  As she remembered her appointment, Elise rushed out, “I have to go.  But, it was nice meeting you!”

“I’ll see you around, beautiful!”  Will called out to no one, as Elise disappeared into the corner

 “Am I late?”  Elise asked Maddy the minute she entered the clinic.

“You’re just on time.  But, I’d pat my hair down first before going in,” Maddy advised with a wink.

As Maddy said, Elise combed through her hair with her fingers, as she wanted to look a bit more human after she had rushed to the clinic.  In front of the door, Elise knocked.

“Come in,” Zac said from the inside.  Elise proceeded in and their second session began. The two, mostly Elise, spoke of their past week, their goals for the session, and their plans of action for the future.  Will was surprisingly mentioned as well.  Elise found herself telling Zac what had happened.  The more they spoke, the more comfortable Elise had become in his presence.  Even if it were only their second meeting, she felt as if they were good ‘ole friends catching up with one another.

 16th of June 2016 (Thursday)

Over wo months down the road and more sessions after, Zac was more than impressed with how fast the process has been.  Elise was nearly an open book to him.  They had accomplished more goals than expected and continued to do so.  But despite all that, Zac knew Elise still withheld the real reason for her need to seek a psychiatrist.  She would often shoot down all questions or topics that led or were connected to her marital status.  Zac knew she was widowed, but he hasn’t found out the background story of it.  Ding, an idea popped into Zac’s head, which made excitement rush through him.

“Hey.  What if we try taking our sessions outside?”  Zac asked with caution, unsure of how she would respond.

“Outside?”  Elise repeated with the same uncertainty.  Zac nodded at her.  “Sure! I mean, you’re the doctor here.  Your word is practically law,” Elise joked.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I asked,” Zac joked back.  

“I’ll see you then, Doctor,” Elise bid her farewell for the week.  Though, she had to force her feet to get up and head to the door, Elise was pleased with how smooth the sessions have been.  Over the months, she found herself close to fully disclosing her heart’s deepest, darkest secrets.

“See you then, Elise.  I’ll have Maddy email you the date for our next session,” Zac said.  With his words, Elise turned and made her way out the clinic.

  That night, Elise received Maddy’s email regarding her next appointment.  It was still set on a Thursday afternoon, but the set location was tentative.  Elise immediately thought maybe Zac was joking about having a session outdoors, but to her utter surprise Zac contacted her directly.  “See you on Thursday. Gilmore Street, the small café,” the message said.  Needless to say, Elise was stoked for Thursday to come.

 23rd of June (Thursday)

“Well, you’re late,” Zac greeted, the haggard but still breath-taking Elise.

“Am I?”  she replied, as she lifted her wrist to check her wrist watch. 4:02pm, it read.  Zac merely laughed at her flustered state.

“Don’t worry, you’re only two minutes late,” Zac affirmed.

“Yeah, thanks for making me feel better,” Elise replied.  “So, where will we stay?” Elise asked, after Zac stopped laughing.

“This way, mi’ lady,” Zac answered, as he led her down the road to the small café.  The two ordered their coffee and took their seats next to the window with a view of the city of Boston.  They immediately jumped back into their routine, discussing her past week, her plans, and her self-assessment.

Once the usual topics were covered, comfortable silence plagued the two.  Both lost in their own world with a million thoughts that ran wild, but Zac was first to break from his trance.

“Ahem,” he said, as he caught the attention of the lady before him.  “Elise,” he began to say, “it’s been over three months now and I’m truly impressed with the progress you’re making.  We’ve accomplished most, if not all, of the goals that we set earlier in this relationship.”  Zac paused to prepare her for what needed to be done.  “But, we have yet to address the real reason why you sought my help.”  Zac ended.

Elise turned to her left and allowed her eyes to focus on the night view of Boston.  She always found an extra stretch of comfort in the twinkling lights of the buildings and homes.  Elise knew this moment would come.  The time where she’d allow her walls to crumble.  The day she would have to relive the accident by telling it to another.  As she sucked in a breath, Elise began.

“It happened on the 14 of February last year.  I was spending Valentine’s Day with my husband, Gabe.  We just finished having dinner at a lovely restaurant and were on the way to the beach.  I’ve always wanted to walk barefoot on the beach at night.  But while on the way, I guess Gabe and I were too caught up with each other, we didn’t see the speeding truck on my right.  All I could remember were the headlights getting closer and closer…” Elise stopped, her body hunched over as she sobbed at the fresh memories.  Zac stretched his hand out to cover her own, as a sign of companionship.

“It’s okay, Elise.  You’re with me now.  Safe, nothing and no one’s going to hurt you,” Zac reassured.  He knew this was tough, but it had to be done for her to recover.  

“I remember turning in my seat to brace myself for the impact.  Then, I felt arms wrap around my body, pulling me out of my seat and onto Gabe’s lap.  It all happened so fast, my mind couldn’t catch up in the moment.  One minute, I’m facing the approaching truck, the next I’m in the arms of my husband with his back towards the truck.  I barely recall anything that happened after,” Elise continued, her hands turned cold in the grip of Zac’s, which made him shift closer to add warmth.

“A week after, I woke up on a hospital bed.  My head and side bandaged, but aside from a week-long coma and short-term memory loss, I suffered no major injury.  Both of my brothers stayed with me throughout my confinement, but both avoided telling me what had happened.  I asked them where Gabe was, and why it wasn’t his face that I saw once I woke up, but no one said anything,” Elise said, as her body trembled with both pain and sorrow.  All Zac could do was squeeze her hand, as his presence reminded her that she wasn’t alone.  She had him.

“Another week had gone by and I finally got my answers.  A doctor, Ms. Richards, came in and helped me recall the incident -- the truck colliding with ours, our car being flipped over and Gabe’s back taking most of the impact.  He died due to the force his body took.  He died because he saved me from the truck,” Elise spat out, the words bitter in her mouth. “He died because of me.”

With that, Elise broke down once more.  Zac stood from his seat and took her in his arms.  Zac knew better than to say anything.  Sometimes, words aren’t enough for one to convey a message.

“Let it out, Elise.  Let it out,” Zac soothed, as he rocked her gently.  Right then and there, Zac decided that this would be the last time he’d see Elise in such a state.  He would do anything to keep her happy.

 17th of November 2016 (Thursday)

Four months have passed since Elise’s major breakdown in the café.  Although it was a tough process after that, Zac was proud of Elise’s dedication to be set free from her thoughts and fears.  In that time span, the two had most of their sessions outdoors.  New goals were set and accomplished. Elise was happily making her way down the road to recovery.

Zac knew that it was time for her to do so on her own.  Elise no longer needed an extra hand. “But why does it hurt?” Zac questioned himself, “Shouldn’t I be happy that my Elise has improved so much?”

“My Elise,” Zac found himself saying.  “My Elise, my Elise, my Elise,” Zac repeated again. “What is this that I feel?”

The door suddenly opened, which made Zac look up and his heart immediately swelled at the sight of Elise.

“Hi doctor!”  Elise greeted bubbly, as she sat herself down on the couch.  This was their last session. After this, there was no need for Zac to see her again.

“Good day, Elise.  You seem happy,” Zac addressed the beaming woman.

“Remember Will?  The man who saved me from embarrassing myself months back?”  Elise said, which made Zac tilt his head in confusion.  He didn’t know why Will was of importance suddenly.  Zac hasn’t heard her speak of him since mentioning him the first time and that was months ago.

“Oh, yes.  You mean, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor,” Zac joked, as he recalled how cheesy Will’s words were to his Elise.  His Elise.

“Well, I bumped into him again on the way here!  It was just like before, I literally bumped into him again.  How ironic is that?”  Elise exclaimed, as she giggled at the irony of events.

“Truly ironic,” Zac confirmed, not sure where this conversation was headed.

“It was just a funny start to the day, don’t you think?”  Elise asked, a small smile now played on her lips.

“Of course, it was,” Zac answered.  Without much thought, Zac continued on to say, “Elise, I have a question.”

“You do?  Go ahead,” Elise tilted her head, filled curious at what Zac had to say.

“Do you think you can love again?  Even after Gabe?”  Zac slowly asked.  Elise smiled at his question.  Zach’s palms began to sweat, as he anticipated her answer.  “Please don’t take it the wrong way,” Zac pleaded with her in his head.

“You see, I’ve always seen love as hearts, flowers and chocolates.  But, I was never blind to the tears, pain, and sorrow is could bring.  I believe the conscious decision to love is just as beautiful as unintentional love.  Just as I believe in the beautiful complexity in love, I believe love was never meant to be solely dedicated to just one person.  Love should be something showered upon those close to your heart.  Even if I refuse to love anyone else after Gabe, I know he’d want me to.  Gabe was always a firm believer that there is always enough love to go around and that love can overcome any barrier blocking its way.  Because of him and what had happened, I’ve come to believe it as well.  So, to answer your question, yes. I just might love once more,” Elise answered, happily.  She was genuinely content with her life.  And thanks to Zac, she had fully accepted the death of her first love, Gabe.

Zac smiled at her answer, pleased to see his Elise bloom out of her shell.  Her words only confirmed what his swelling heart screamed from within.  “I am truly in love,” he admitted to himself.  “This can’t happen.  At least not now, but I’m willing to wait.”  As he shook his head, Zach continued to say “Well then, why don’t we wrap things up so that we can spread more positivity and love around.”

Minutes later, all the papers have been processed and all forms were signed.  Their professional relationship has officially ended.

As they walk out the clinic for the last time, Zac turned to face his Elise, just as she turned to face him.  “Thank you,” she whispered, only loud enough for him to hear.

“It was my pleasure, Elise,” Zac meant every word.  This woman just turned his world around, and she doesn’t even know it yet.

“I’ll see you around, won’t I?”  Elise asked.  It was a shame for them to just walk away from the friendship they had built.  Elise had grown to enjoy Zac’s presence, whether in silence or in chaos.  

As he leaned down and brought his lips close to Elise’s right ear, he whispered “Of course, love.  I’ll see you when I can.”

As he laid a soft kiss on her cheek, Zac walked away from the woman who unintentionally taught him how to love.

 10th of June 2019 (Monday)

Zac Anderson walks through the city of Boston, breathing in the fresh air.  It’s over two years since he left.  After subtly admitting his love for Elise Willows, his father called in saying he could come home now.  Not wanting to anger his father anymore, Zac was on the next plane to New York.  Once he arrived at his father’s office, he sat with his father and apologized for how he rebellious he has been in the past years.  He also mentioned his Elise, the woman who has his heart.

“Father, I wish to return to Boston as soon as you allow me,” Zac said to his father, his eyes pleaded for approval.  His return to Boston meant that his ties with New York would be cut off and he would no longer be next in line for the CEO position.  His father knew this and so did Zac.  But none of that weigh more than his love for Elise.  His Elise.

“You may return, as soon as the contract is fulfilled,” his father replied.

“But that would take two years, even more if things don’t run smooth!” Zac tried to protest; but, decided against it as he wanted to earn his father’s approval and blessing for him to leave.

Over those months and years, Zac avoided contacting his Elise, in respect to her and himself.  For them to be anything more than what a professional relationship need, two years needed to pass without either stepping out of the line.

Shaking his head at the events of the past, Zac was happy to be back.  The struggles and sleepless nights were worth it because not only did he have his father’s approval to live in Boston, but now he could freely date the woman he loves.  Smiling at the thought of spending time with her, he quickens his steps eager to see his Elise.

All of a sudden, the familiar sound of laughter reaches his ears, making Zac turn to his left, looking for the source he knew all too well.

There she stood, his Elise, laughing.  Her hair going with the wind, allowing Zac to see her beautiful brown eyes, and full lips.  She looks so content and happy with life.  Just the sight of her makes his heart swell, just like it did before.

But, she wasn’t alone.  Next to her was a man, Will Matthews, laughing just the same.  Zac’s eyes take in the view before him, noting that their hands were interlocked.  The seemingly happy couple continue walking.  Still laughing.  Still holding hands.  They looked in love.

Taking a few steps back, Zac tries to process what he had just seen.  “Elise?”  he calls out to no one, staring at the couple’s backs.

Placing a hand over his heart, feeling its fast pulse, Zac says to himself, “You were right, my Elise.  Indeed, love is complex.” With that, Zac holds his index finger and middle finger to his lips and blows a kiss in their direction, wishing his Elise nothing but joy and love.