Exquisite ~ Book One

Nine~

"Morning Sleeping Beauty," Andrew says as I peel my heavy eyes open. I give him a small smile, grim and sleep filled. He took it in as his own and sat across from me on his bed. I slowly sit up.

"Thanks for last night." I say with a greater smile than before. He hands me a styrphome cup of coffee and I take it, blowing at the liquid as it ripples in the opposing direction for a while. By the time I sip at it, my tongue is burnt and I set the cup down to let it cool off.

"Hot?" Andrew laughs. "Should have warned you-" I glare at him and he looks away, trying to keep the appropriate composure. "But hey, I have something for you." My mind instantly goes to Dennis, a letter from Dennis. Supense ridden, I wait as Andrew pulls a box out from behind him and opens it for me. I gape at the object.

"Why would I want that?" I ask grimly.

"A phone? While I told you that was our next stop, but frankly, you couldn't make it so I got it for you this morning." He smirks, his lips lop-sided.

"Thanks?" I say questionaly.

"Of course I'll teach you how to work it along the way, but I already set you up with an email and stored my number in your contacts..." Rambling on, Andrew breaks it with a sudden flush of his face and an engulfment of embarrassment.

-

"I want to show you something," Andrew says as he takes ahold of my hand. Without thinking, I yank it away, Andrew freezing without reassurance on what to do. Instead of saying sorry he gestures me foreward. I exit ahead of him after stepping out of the car.

"What is this?" I ask as I look before me. All that stood there was a rusty, abandoned playground.

"A playground." He answers with a wide grin. His smile had met his eyes as they lit up as if there was a spark of a fire.

"But it's old?" I question again.

"As are we," he remarks. I only grow evermore so confused. "You were writing yesterday about color, meaning the skin they were in and the clothing that dressed them, but you never said anything about their ages. Not all is young and not old young."

"I don't follow." I say stiffly.

"Because there is nothing here to follow.: I starer at him dully. "Trust me okay?" He holds his hand out for me once again. Slowly and cautiously I take it as he leads me out to the playground. Out on the playgroumd he leads me onto the swings, the metal screeching as it rocks me both forward and back. Every here and there I'll let out a shy laugh, let my head lay back or simply shout out gleefully.

We'd gone down the slides, and he'd pushed me on the merry-go-round. Oh, there was so much to be done and we'd done it all.

"Anna? Do you trust me now?" Through my fits of laughter and joy, all I can manage is a simple nod of the head. He takes my hand and leads me further into the green of land, leading me behind a vine covered fence.

"Andrew?" I say cautiously as he leads me behind it. For what I see makes me gasp. Behind it where bushes of roses, thorns, and vines. They were red roses tinted yellow, and they were glorious. Andrew lets go of my hands.

"I want you to sit right here, and right to me all we'd just done." He was smiling ear to ear if possibly, his breathing uneven. I sit down before the roses, unbinging the jounal and setting out on writing.

"For what the young may see as old may be seen young by the old. It's not a matter of broken or new, but a matter of what it is capable of meaning to you. There is beauty within old things because at a time, it was once new, once young. And for the abandoned and the alone? Those to harbor such beauty within them and it is so hard to put words into all of the things that I have seen today.

Through black and white, I was taken in to see the grey and it was glorious, the variety of shades. With that there was no racial differentiation or notice of age but a chance to see back to what was and what now is..."

I paused, my mind buzzing with so much that it was hard to consentrate on one thing alone. Andrew sits before me and pulls a letter from his pocket, handing it out to me. On the front was my name written in Dennis' handwriting. I jumped up, my journal knocking over.

-

Dear Rose,

I hope you're living life to your fullest, I'm sorry for being unable to come along but all is well at home. The only thing out of place is my utterly pained loss of you. I can never wait long enough to hear words back from you or until the day it is right for you to return to me as if there was never a time you'd gone off. For now, I will keep tending to your letters as well as my own and imagine the silk of the waves of your hair, sit ashore to feel as if you will soon enough return.

I do wonder where it is you are, but all I can imagine is what comes next for you and all you have left to adventure. The world is a big thing full of many others and I do enjoy the written stories that you unfold to mine own heart. In the swiftness of such minimal words, you've reached the gloriousity of my heart and taken it hold as your own.

I do wish to say one thing, though best beyond letter, for if you were here I'd be left upon one knee to ask you of a question, of infinity. I know you are far, and I know through letter seems best unfit, but I truly do love you and I'm ready to give you more than my heart, give you my own home and my own last name. Make me yours in the time that you'll allow me to make you mine and I swear, I will continue with you wherever it is you'd like.

Think about it,

Dennis.

-

"You okay?" Andrew asks.