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Under The Apple Tree

Jim sat for a while and considered, plucking individual blades of grass and ripping them apart, slowly; like he didn't realize that he was doing it.

"Everyone should have an epiphany by themselves, not because of others. If I had stayed, I would have shown you everything there is to know in the world, possibly unintentionally. You've realised what society has come to. You wouldn't have been able to see that by staying here. It was all for the best, but I'm back now. I won't disappear again." he promised. I threw my cross-stitch to the side and leaped onto Jim, my arms around his neck. He fell backwards, onto the grass, with me on top of him.

"Jim, I realised that day at the beach, that no one can live without a friend. I didn't know that I needed a friend until then. I don't know how I ever lived without a friend, and I don't know how I lived since then. I guess it was knowing I had a friend was enough. But, I don't want to be without you. Not ever again." I felt like the overly attached girlfriend, but it was all true.

"That's good to know." he answered. We stayed there, just staring into each other's eyes. He had beautiful eyes, the kind you could get lost in. When Jim wasn't smiling, he seemed scary, unapproachable, yet still tender. That's how he looked then.

"Jim, do you love me?" I asked, slowly.

"I can't answer that question coming from you, because I still haven't answered the same question coming from myself." he answered. "Do you want me to love you?" I considered his question. Yes, I wanted Jim to love me, because, simply, I loved him.

"Yes. I want you to love me."

"Then I do. Love is a dream, and dreams are good. But don't be surprised when you wake up in tears."

I got off from on top of Jim and repositioned myself, so I'd be lying down next to him. He turned to face me. Two months ago, I was the loser, the geek, the one who would never get the guy. I thought. Now I'm here, under my apple tree, my eyes open to the ways of the world, and in love with a guy who loves me back.

"Regina," Jim asked. "What is your deepest fear?"

I had to think of what my deepest fear would be. I could think of a lot of scary events, but none of them would be my deepest fear.

"I think my deepest fear would be getting hurt, either on the outside or on the inside. Getting my heart broken, then losing all will to live."

"That's very interesting. Most people fear death more than anything else. Do you fear death, Regina?" I immediately shook my head.

"Death is painless. It's life people should be scared of. Life hurts a lot more. When you die, the pain is over."

Jim seemed satisfied with my answer. I scooched closer to him. Jim was very warm, like he had only recently taken off his overcoat and scarf, even though it was May.

"Jim, when I first met you, why did you smell like smoke?" I asked. It seemed like I was asking a lot of questions, but they had all been burning in my brain, and I couldn't ignore them anymore.

"My father was smoking that day. I had dropped his ashtray on the tile on my way to dump it and he lit my hair with his cigar as a punishment. It wasn't even one of his nice ashtrays. My father has a few crystal ashtrays, but I dropped one of his flimsy plastic ones. It still shattered across the floor. That's why I'm not home much. It's not very pleasant at my house. I haven't been home for almost a month now. I don't miss them. I should. They're my parents, after all. But I don't."

I listened to Jim's whole speech with Bambi eyes. I couldn't imagine that kind of home to go to. At least I had a warm bed and didn't have to see my family much.