The Wrong One

Chapter III

That same day, I told Alice of the conversation I had with my father. It has always been like that between us; there is a certain ease and openness that I have not felt with anyone else. We were under the base of the old oak tree whose roots had broken the sweet smelling earth, and had since served as a place for us to sit and talk. The wind was light and playful, lifting her hair with its invisible fingers, and tickling her amused face. We were seated beside each other, our shoulders barely touching, as I explained to her that though I loved her with everything I had, she deserved more than me, and the possible pain our joining would inflict on her.

                “Words,” I had said, that afternoon, “are sharper than knives, Alice. They are our most powerful weapons.”

                She was silent for a while, thoughtful, and her eyes were absently gazing at the view of the village we had loved since the time we decided to make the oak tree our meeting place.

                “It is true,” she started slowly, her eyes never meeting mine as she added; “there will be consequences if we show everyone how we truly feel for each other.”

I bowed my head, hating the painful truth of her words and the sadness it cast upon me.

“No doubt, people will talk. They are sure to find fault in both you and me. Most of the ones I call my friends won’t even look at me the minute I admit that I... that I love you, William.”

Our eyes met, then, and I could see that right now, even if we had not proceeded with our plans, she was in much pain already, and she was aware of the sacrifices she’d have to make if she chose to stay with me.

“Words,” she said, picking up on what I had just told her, “are sharper than knives, William. They are our most powerful weapons.”

Then the girl I love, placed her hands in mine, urging me to listen to her. “But William, blades, no matter how sharp, with time, eventually dulls and loses its lustre.”

I remember how confused I was at her words, and how I repeatedly stopped myself from letting my hopes run too high. But the next words that tumbled out of her sweet mouth caught me unguarded.

                “William, I love you. I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you, and I fear that losing you will be the ruin of me.”

I took her in my arms, and held her close. Despite the strength with which she spoke, she was trembling, and ultimately, the honest fear she had of losing me was all I did to come undone.

“Hush, Alice,” I whispered into her hair, “It will be alright. Hush now, don’t be afraid. You won’t lose me.”

She looked up, and I was surprised to see tears trickling down her beautiful face. “You promise? You promise you won’t leave me?”

I looked at the setting sun and how its rays seemed to set fire to the vulnerable buildings of our village bellow. That lonely looking village, nestled between two mountains- that village was our whole world. Alice and I knew nothing of where the roads outside our boundaries might lead, and we had no other family anywhere else. If we chose to stay together, we would have nowhere else to go. We would have to brace ourselves against everything that would surely come our way. And we would have to face them all alone.

                I stroked her hair gently, and relished every second that we spent under that oak tree, together, without the fear of being seen by anyone. She was everything I wanted, needed and longed for. She had claimed a huge part of me, since she and I first met, and ever since then, I was convinced that she was the one I had been waiting for.

Contrary to what many think, we men know when the woman in front of us is the one to whom our hearts will open unyieldingly. There is a peculiar assurance that comes from a force we have no control of, and that same force urges us onward as we court and ask for the hand of she who is, in our eyes, the most beautiful.

The same had happened to me, and although I myself can shed no light on it, I must admit that when I saw Alice for the first time, she had my heart and all of me in that same moment. I knew. I was sure. She was the one for me; the one I would love come what may, the one whom I longed to have a family with- children, boys that her stunning eyes, and little girls who would look so much like their mother. I knew. And I was sure.

                I released Alice from my arms then, looked her in the eyes, and said,

                “I love you, Alice Beauregard. I love you and I always have, always will. I will always keep you safe, and I will provide whatever it is your heart wants and needs. You have my promise of forever.”

Then I kissed her, saying all that I wanted to tell her, showing her all that I wanted her to feel, and most of all, letting her see that I was truly in love with her. And to my great surprise, she kissed me back. Alice kissed me back.

                It was in that moment of tenderness, of longing and bittersweet thoughts, that I gave in to the selfishness I thought I had conquered when I told my father that I would always be the last to put the woman I loved in any kind of situation that would eventually cause her pain. In that moment, I had broken all the promises I had uttered so confidently to her. I was leading her to a life where she would never be safe, where she would be subjected to the most potent weapons we humans have ever developed.

But love can be like that- blinding. And it is only if the love we boast of is true that we come to our senses, and find the strength to stop, and let go.

At that moment however, Alice was happy, and she was safe in my arms. And we were together.

“I love you,” I breathed.”

“I love you, too, William.”

“Forever,” I said, searching her eyes.

“Forever.”