Elliot

Nineteen

One summer afternoon I sat on the porch of our house with my skateboard on my feet. The plan was to go meet Isaac in the skatepark, but I wasn't feeling about going anymore. It was Saturday.

I saw Minerva sitting on her yard. She was reading a book. So I came up to her.

"Afternoon, Minerva."

She had this warm smile every time I greet her. "Elliot. Good afternoon."

"Can I join you?" And then she smiled again and nodded. I placed my board down and sat on it. "What are you reading?" She showed me the cover of the book. Pride and Prejudice.

"I've been reading this for two days now and I can say that I am just... addicted."

"I can't say I'd agree. I don't read books."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"I'm not really a fan of it. I find it boring. I can't sit and read words for hours and expect that I'd be entertained."

"Well, you'll never know if you try."

I smiled. I didn't know why. I just did. "Maybe," I said. "Maybe I'll give it a try someday. Would that be the book that you'll recommend if I ever ask for your help?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Then we laughed and she continued reading. After a minute of silence, she closed her book and took a deep breath. She stared into the street, then into the sky. I wonder what she was thinking about.

"How are your plants, Minerva?" I said.

"It's growing. In fact, some of it grew. And some of it died-like those flowers." She pointed at the dead daffodils. They looked like dried soggy tissues.

"I'm sorry for your flowers. We can set up a funeral for them if you want." I didn't know why I said that. I just did. But then, Minerva laughed. And I did too.

"You never fail to entertain me, young man." Then we were quiet. "How is life for you?"

"Well lived." I said. "I'm still learning more from it. It's hard to live a life full of doubts. It's like reading a book with words from the seventeenth century." I stared at the dead daffodils. "But eventually, I can say that I'm happy."

"Life is often a mystery," she said. "You'll never know what you get until you discover it yourself. But that's what makes life interesting."

"I have discovered something from my life. I was denying it at first, but I figured that there's no use to it. So what I did is just accepted it." Maybe my life isn't a mystery anymore.

"What's that thing you discovered?"

I looked at her. "I discovered that I like boys."

What she gave me in return was her warmest smile. She placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm glad about what you discovered."

"I am too. Actually, I have a special boy in my life now."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. I do." I laughed. "His name is Tobias Antoine. And I can say that he is the perfect thing that I have discovered in my life."

"Tobias Antoine. It's a beautiful name."

We sat in her yard for minutes. The sky was starting to be painted orange again. I'd never get tired of witnessing it. It's like I'm painting the sky with my own brush, my own colors, my own canvas.

"Minerva," I said. "can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"Why is it hard to tell people that you love them rather than showing it to them?"

She thought for a moment. "Words are beautiful when they're just thoughts living inside our heads. We come up for a perfect word, a perfect phrase, in our head but when we're about to say it, words scatter and disappear. I feel like we can only say a certain word when we truly mean them. I had a brother. His name was Elijah. He never told us that he loved us, not even once. That was until he left to go on a trip. The plane that he was riding had troubles and they crashed into the wide, open ocean. We mourned. We kept saying his name so that we won't forget. Then we were called, saying that Elijah had left us a voicemail, moments before the crash. That was the first and last time we heard his voice saying that he loved us. But deep inside, we knew that he did. He just never verbally expressed it."

I looked into her eyes. A smile on her lips was seen while tears rolled down on her face.

I imagined my life being like that. Not telling people I love that I do love them. It would be such a pain for me if it will stay that way. Love is really complicated. Life, it is also complicated-and unfair.

Minerva wiped her tears and looked at me. "If I were you, I would stand up now and tell people I care about that I love them while there's still a chance." She touched my cheek. "Love, Elliot, is a complex form of life but it is also a magnificent thing a person could ever have."