After our first encounter, I was charged with babysitting him after school and during holidays but I would say it was just us hanging out. My babysitting hours were when he visited with his mom. And our second serious encounter was at my dad's funeral. I was fifteen and him ten - his birthday is months before mine. We didn't talk much at the time because I was grieving and didn't want to be disturbed.
After that day, I never saw him again until our third serious encounter which was when his grandmother died. He was twelve and I eighteen.
"Hey you." I walked up to him and the second he saw me, he ran to give me a hug.
"I didn't think you were coming." His tears started rolling down on my dress.
"I know how important she was to you." I wiped away his tears, kneeling down to match his height. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm barely holding up, but I'm okay now that I'm with you." He said, wrapping his arm tighter around me.
The only thing I could do was to nod my head in understanding.
"You've changed."
"For you, other people still think I'm mean."
"I think everyone thinks you're mean." I started played with his hair, "your mother said that you didn't shear a tear."
"I couldn't cry."
"But you did when you saw me."
"You're special."
"Does that mean you finally see me as your friend?"
"No." He smiled at me and I just laughed.
"Still in denial I see."
"That is what you think, I know how I see you. Which means I know what I want."
"You're twelve, how could you possibly know what you want?"
"I'm different, like you."
"I'm a normal eighteen-year-old, who lives like an eighteen-year-old not some late thirties-year-old lady."
"Mmm." He murmured before locking our hands together, "thank you for being here Angel."
"Anything for you champ, and maybe I will see you again before going back to my new home if you promise to behave."
"I will, only around you."
"That is not enough." I ruffled his hair.
"It is the only thing I can offer."
"Fine. I take it."
"Good."
The last encounter was at my mother's funeral. I was twenty and he was fourteen. Him and his mother flew to where we stayed at the time and I had to fly from the university I had gone to. It was not an easy time but he did find a way to comfort me. After all, he was my buddy.
A knock came through my bedroom door but I didn't answer it. I just continued to cry in silence.
It was after the burial and over and over again, the image of my mother's casket going down hunted me. That was a rude awakening that I won't be able to hold her ever again. She won't be having the chance to scream loud during my graduation as I go get my degree. She won't cry as I walk down the aisle to my husband, David, hopefully. She won't even lay her beautiful eyes on the fruits of my womb, her grandchildren.
YOU ARE READING
Till Death Do Us Apart
Romantizm"Till death do us apart. " The words Angela said in happiness to her husband on their wedding day. But a few years later she was saying them on his grave, tears grounding in her eyes. Just when she thought nothing could be the same, a past friend co...
