Occhiolism

Lilly

There she is standing in the doorway of the church, a white dress cascading down to her feet. That's my Lilly.

I met her in high school. It's not like I might not have met her, the town's quite small. She was in my English class. I didn't have any friends in that class. She was sitting one desk in front, to the right. I would watch her fumble with her pens, or doodle on her essays. She was quite unorganised.

She wore black glasses, like the ones I used to have. I changed to contacts. My best friend told me to and it was one of the best choices I ever made.
Well not my best, but I-I'm getting off subject. She had blonde hair, with some streaks of chestnut. Sometimes she wore flowers in it, the ones that came out in the summer.
I used to pick them with my only friend, Logan, behind the church. They would grow there in the masses. Very pretty flowers, small and beige. But they only grew there in the summer. I liked the summer.

Anyway back to the point. I didn't really care about her hair. It was what all the other boys were crazy about, but I like her voice. It was soft and calm. She wasn't like all the other girls. The other boys, the ones who were always talking about girls, didn't like her. But of course they didn't. They only like the girls who wear pounds of makeup and have an ass and big breasts. I don't get it.

They said she was a nerd. She wasn't a nerd if you knew her. She was smart and all, like me, but she wasn't a nerd. Maybe her sense of style wasn't the best. Lots of jumpers and leggings, not very girly or pretty clothes. Maybe that's why they didn't like her.

She wouldn't answer very many questions in class, so at first I thought she wasn't smart. You shouldn't judge people like that. But that was then. I was very judgemental then. Anyway, turns out she was smart, just shy. I should have known, since she's just like me.

One day, I got to English early. I walked in on 3 boys from the older years, reading through my notebook. I tried to get them to give it back, but I'm not strong. They grabbed me by my arms and pinned me against the wall. I remember their words, their breath warm in my ears.
"Why did you draw this guy?"
It was Logan. He had asked me to draw him. I'll tell you about him later.
"Why does it matter?"
"Gay!!" They laughed between themselves.
I didn't know what it meant then. My parents told me that night. They told me it was a curse, something that people chose. It was bad. Very bad. I realised why they said that word. It's like a weapon between boys. And it hurts.
When they said that to me I replied by asking, stupidly,"What's gay?"
They giggled.
"We've found a dumb one."

The one behind me grabbed my neck and pulled me by my collar to the book cupboard. They pushed all the books out of it and pushed me in. It was dark. My hands were quivering. I banged the wooden doors but no one was there to hear me. I regretted coming to class early. I had to wait 15 minutes until anyone showed up. The silence ate away at me. I wanted my friend here. Finally, I heard voices. No, a voice. I recognised it. Lilly. I banged the doors hard.

"Hello? Is someone in there?"
I stuttered a bit, scared to talk to her.
"M-me..."
"Oscar?"
She knew my name.
The door opened, and the light flooded in.
"Were you in there all that time?"
"Not too long, don't worry..."
I remember being anxious about saying that. I had assumed she was worrying about me. I always talk before I think. I worried for the whole of the English class about that. I might have worried for weeks.

English class was a bit better after that. Sometimes she would glance around and smile at me. We started talking more, and sometimes hung out after school. I couldn't hang out with her too long. My parents were quite conservative, they didn't let me hang out with her too much. But I found ways. For some reason, the more time I spent with a girl, the more I was called gay. I hated it. It was so horrible for people to think I was actually gay.

I tried to spend less time with her, but she kept coming back to me. She was the one who came back to me, asking me for my number and sometimes showing up at my door. My parents were angry at first, but they liked her. She helped me with my homework. I helped her too. I really did like her.

When I was 18, on the 26th of May, I told her I loved her. She paused, then told me she loved me too. We didn't talk for a few days, I was a very awkward teenager. Then she came up to me one day in the hallway, and kissed me. She smirked, then walked off. I ignored the faint shouts from the back of the hall - "The gay guy's got a girlfriend!". At that moment I didn't care about the insults. My love was stronger then their hate.

Now I'm married to her. My perfect wife .