Red ✔

Miracles Can Happen

He politely opens the door for me in his white convertible. Such a gentleman! He is taking me on a date to this fancy Italian restaurant. The restaurant is big with multicultural costumers dressed in semi-formal attire. One lady is wearing a long, black silky dress that reaches up to her ankles. She has a mild amount of makeup on. Her straight, brown hair flourishes down her shoulders.  She looks like one of those natural beauty models.

I turn back to him and blow him a kiss. The waiter shows us to our table. A lit candle gleams at the centre of the table.

“This is so nice,” I remark.

“I knew you love Italian food,” he says. Okay, in reality, I do not exactly prefer Italian but that is not the point.

“That is what I love about you,” I say.

“What will that be?” He smiles that stunning smile.

“How you listen to everything I say. Most guys will forget.” I reach for my smoothie, even though I did not order it. I accidently spill it on my blue tank top and leach into my white pants.

He laughs at me. Loudly. Other people around us laugh, too. They are so loud it sounds like a bulldozer on full blast. It echoes in my ears. I hold onto my ears. The people mouths are moving non-stop. I try to scream for them to stop, but they do not.  They keep going.  Their noses and forehead scrunched up in a tight wrinkle. Tears leak out of my ears. My nose is running. I sniff. I feel lightheaded and dizzy. I just want to huddle into a hole and die. This is just too much to take in one day.

Abruptly, the door flings open. Wind blows fiercely. Plates, cups silverwares, tables, chair, and glass whisks flows across the restaurant. Everyone ducks.

I glance at the door. A man with a white mask and a black suit stands there. His irises are a striking shade of blue and somewhat recognizable. He whirls around me in lightning speed. When the wind dies down, I open my eyes to see the prettiest dress I have ever seen. I am in a glittery, white V-neck dress, and my feet with pink wedges. All the costumers gape. It seems like I am glowing like the Sun.

Someone grasps onto my waist lightly. I hold my breath to see who it is: it is the mask guy. I stare at his deep blue eyes, not wanting to look away.

“Who are you?” I ask him, moving my hands along his arms that are still on my waist. His eyes look at his feet and then back up to me again. “I want to see your true face so I know who to be thankful for.” I reach for his mask. His hands stop me at the nick of time.

“Don’t,” he whispers in a husky voice. For some reason I find that very sexy.

“Well, I cannot leave you empty-handed,” I say, reaching for his mask again. He tries to stop me again. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. To show you how grateful I am.” I lift the mask slightly, revealing his lips. I lean in unconsciously. As our lips touch, his hands seize me firmly and I wrap my arms around his neck. The kiss is soft and sweet. I feel his mouth moving into my hair.

“What?” I murmur, dazed from the kiss.

“Crystal Noir.”

I wake up. I climb out of bed, confused. Who is that Mask Guy? I cannot erase him out of mine. I cannot erase the kiss out of my mind either. It was so tender and real. I want to do it again, but I do not even know who he is, though he looks awfully familiar. I cannot put my finger on it. He is all I am thinking about, until I remembered what day it is.

I dart downstairs to the living room. A large Christmas tree with a variety of colourful ornaments stands beside the burning fireplace. The tree has every card Alex and I made in the past. Compared to what we can do now, it seems like shit. Under the tree are wrapped presents with different patterns of wrapping paper and tissue. I adore Frosty the Snowman wrapping paper. It has speech bubbles with the lyrics of the song. In the past, mom will bake gingerbread cookies for us, fresh from the oven. We will eat them right away, not saving for anyone. Now, since Mom is gone, I have to bake them myself, but it is not the same... Nothing is the same without her.