Rhapsody

- ABSOLUTELY PERFECT -

ABSOLUTELY PERFECT

I want to tell you a story. Our story, really.

 I don’t know if you can hear me, but please, please--just listen.

Do you remember me at all, even? Do you remember the first day we met? It was on that bridge. I used to go there a lot--I told you that, later, remember? I used to go there nearly every day, just to stand in the middle and stare down at the water rushing by. Hardly anyone went there. Nobody ever disturbed me. It was just me, the river, and my own thoughts.

But then one day you came by. You were running, and then you saw me, and you came came up to me. You said to me later that you saw me standing there by myself, and there was something about me and you just couldn’t resist coming up to say hello.

And I believed you, because that’s exactly what you did. You came up to me, with a nervous, lopsided smile, and you said hello. And I hello’ed you back, a little shyly. And the first thing I noticed about you was your eyes. Your mismatched eyes. 

Your left eye was gray, a silvery gray with a blue spot in one corner. And your right eye was a warm, amber, hazel green. You noticed me staring, and you sighed and I mumbled a sorry. You smiled at me and said, “That’s okay. I’m used to it.” And somehow I got a little irritated by that, almost as though I didn’t want to be another thing you were just used to, I wanted to be special. It didn’t even make sense at all because I didn’t know you at all, and that agitated me, and you could tell because you hurried to make light conversation. And we talked aimlessly for a while, about random things like the weather. And then you got really nervous and I could tell from the way you kept scratching the back of your neck.

 And then you said you had to go, and I said, “Okay.”

 I went back the next day. It was the first time I had been at the bridge for two days in a row. It was just something about you that nagged me--bothered me, almost.

 It was curiosity. I wanted to find out why you had come up to me that first day. I went, just to look for you. See if you’d be there. And you were. You were there, and when you saw me you grinned and when you greeted me this time you were a lot more confident. And I smiled at you too, and we talked and talked until it started getting dark. And neither of us never even noticed.

 But then your phone rang, and you took it out to decline the call; but you saw the time and again you said you had to go, and again I said, “Okay.”

 And every day after that I would come back, and you’d be there, again and again. And we would talk, and talk, and talk until you knew so, so much about me, and yet even then you never pried, never looked at me strangely when I showed up again and again wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt even though it was summer, and it was hot. And every time when it got late you’d tell me you had to go, and I would say, “Okay.” 

None of us ever said goodbye, even once.

 Then one day you were late. I waited and waited, and I was turning to leave when you came running up, breathless, saying “Sorry, sorry!” and begging me to forgive you and begging me to stay. You didn’t even give me a chance to reply and I had to put my hands on your face to make you stop. You grinned at me sheepishly and I told you it was fine, I told you I would stay. You looked so relieved, and just seeing you like that made me happy, too.

I asked you why you were late, and you said, “I’ll tell you later.” So I didn’t pry. And again we talked and talked, and it was that day when I knew that you would be the one to try to tear down my walls for me, and somehow make your way into the hellish whirlpool that was my life. And the thought of that scared me, but the thought of letting you go scared me even more.

 So I asked, “What’s your name?”

 And then we both laughed because that’s when we realized that even though we knew so, so much about each other, yet neither of us had bothered to ask for names.

 And you said, “What’s yours?”

 “You first,” I retorted.

 You grinned at me. I loved your grins--still do. “Dexter,” you said.

 “Dexter,” I repeated. Something flickered behind your eyes when I said it. “Dexter. I like it.”

 “Your turn,” you said then.

 “Rhine,” I said.

“That’s a beautiful name,” you told me, and that was the first time you made me blush.

 But it certainly wasn’t the last, because a week later you finally, finally asked me out. And I blushed and blushed and wouldn’t look at you, but I said yes, and once again you looked so, so relieved and I laughed outright at your expression. 

And the date was absolutely perfect. Do you remember our first date, Dex? You took me to the boardwalk. You wouldn’t tell me where we were going, and it was all utterly cliché, but I didn’t mind-- loved it, I loved it and you could tell, couldn’t you? I bet you could. And after we had walked around so much both our feet were aching, we went down to the beach and we took off our shoes and sat on the end of the pier, legs dangling in the water. I leaned my head on your shoulder and you wrapped your arms around me, and I closed my eyes and we just sat there, sat there. 

And then you were waking me up because I had fallen asleep, and you said, “Look, Rhine, look,” because the sun was setting, and the sky was a palette of red and purple and orange all dancing with flashes and splashes of gold, and it was absolutely perfect.

 And I turned to you and you were looking at me with something in your mismatched eyes, and I knew what it was, and I kissed you. Or maybe you kissed me. I don’t know who was first, Dex; all I can remember is how it felt, and your lips were so soft and lovely and the kiss was even more absolutely perfect. 

And after you pulled away you looked at me and I looked right back at you, and I thought about how we had hardly known each other for a month, and yet you already knew so much about me, and here we were after our first kiss and I felt something. I felt something, Dex. 

Later I learned it was called love.

And everything was just so absolutely perfect. 

And because of that I didn’t want you to find out, I didn’t want you to know about my dark, dark past because I feared you would run. Who wouldn’t? It was dark, and scary, and horrible and sickening and every time I thought about it I felt disgusted. 

But one day you came over and you pulled up my sleeves and you saw the imperfection, and you asked me, “Why?” And by that time my walls were gone, all gone and I couldn’t even scramble to save myself, couldn’t even find the bricks any more because you’d hid them so well, and so I broke down and told you. I had to tell you. And I was terrified that you would leave. 

But you didn’t. Dexter, you didn’t leave. You stayed and stayed and stayed and you told me you would never leave me, ever.

You said you wouldn’t leave, Dex. So where are you now? Why won’t you wake up?

 Oh, Dex, tell me it’s not because of me. Tell me it’s not because you’re angry at me. I love you Dex, I love you. Don’t you love me too? You said so yourself, Dex, you said it. You said love is a promise, and you promised me you would keep it. 

I miss your lopsided smile, your dimpled grin, your mismatched eyes that always lit up when you saw me. I miss how your eyes would darken sometimes, just for me. I miss your beautiful hands and your beautiful lips and your long fingers and the way they could shape music so, so beautifully.

I miss you so much. 

Come back, Dex. Please come back. Open your eyes and smile at me and kiss me and come back to me because, because, because--

 Oh God, Dexter. I love you. I love you. Just please come back.

 Come back and make my life perfect again.

 Please.