This is the first short story I'm posting here. This is also on my tumblr blog. Tell me what you think! Hope you enjoy!
It was one of those high school relationships, just for the hell of it. But I knew this was different. This was much, much different.
First of all, I was a senior, and he was seven years my senior. He was 24, studying to be a doctor, I was 17, trying to get into the colleges of my choice. I did get into where I wanted, but that meant moving halfway across the world. That wasn’t much of a problem, really. His family was there as well, and he could easily move there, and switch schools, and it would be a better school. But he didn’t want to move to another country, even if his family were there, even if the school was better. He liked the way life was here. And so I left, he stayed, but what we had remained.
This was different, I knew it. I needed someone in the crisis I was in. With the problems I was facing, things were about to go worse, but thanks to him, he was able to stop me, and direct me into a better path. The smoking, the drinking, the pills: it all stopped, and I didn’t seem to need them anymore. And it wasn’t because I needed someone to love me; I needed someone to understand me, and to stop me. And he was capable of doing just that.
The way we were, it wasn’t like any other. I didn’t even go to prom with him, he told me it was just right for me to go someone else, and that’s what I did. We hang out once in a blue moon, only to be able to talk and have a good time. After all, we were both very busy. Dinner dates on Valentine’s and anniversaries we’re necessary, not even asked for by either of us. We weren’t that type of couple. I wouldn’t even call us a couple, it was too much of a commitment, too much for the two of us.
My problems got too much, I never discuss them with my parents, they weren’t the types who could help their child with dilemmas, and my friends wouldn’t understand, I had no one else, until I found him. He’d saved my life about three times already.
I didn’t know if it was love back then. I needed him, but he didn’t need me. He was very selfless with that. He helped me, gave me so much, without asking for anything in return. Is it still considered as love when you hang on to someone that much because you need them? That I wondered; but couldn’t bring myself to answer.
As a farewell gift, he presented to me a Tiffany box, and inside was a maple leaf charm for my bracelet. Something very thoughtful, a maple leaf representing Canada, as well as the fact that he knows how much I care about that bracelet, for every charm has its own story. And he belonged there.
30 years have passed, charms have been added, some gone: lost in airports, but the maple leaf remained, and caught my attention each time I looked at the bracelet. It’s the most special one for me. I haven’t seen him for 30 years. He’s probably already a successful doctor, and I have no idea where he’s living. But fate seems to bring things together for these situations.
When I took some time to visit a family friend, a woman whom I considered as my aunt, who was also his mother, I found that he was there for a visit. We were reunited, and when he saw the charm he had given me 30 years ago, we had the same feeling, that same connection once more.
He invited me to talk inside his room. His mother had to do some shopping. I went in, and all of a sudden, I felt like I was 17 again. He told me that he wasn’t married, and dated only a few women, but wasn’t able to take the relationship seriously. He was successful in his job, but not entirely in life. And then I told him with what we left.
I told him that I hanged on to him because I needed him, and back then, I didn’t know if I did love him. But back then, it was a teenage love affair. As time passed, I realized that it was much more. That if you need someone, you learn to love them, and when you love someone, it’s just as if you need them as well.
