Admire from afar

The news was simple: at least for the holidays, she was coming home. I was ecstatic when I heard the news, though I knew she wouldn't have come to see me. I waited for her at the train station, the snow falling heavily past my shoulders, yet I didn't feel the bitter chill of the air as the breeze picked up. Everyone was in brightly coloured coats at the station, fairy lights hanging from pole to pole with paper candy canes hanging from the cords. 

Instead of the usual emptiness I felt, a subtle warmness omitted from my chest and flowed through my seemingly weightless body as I listened to the familiar Christmas carols blaring from the speakers overhead. While I waited, I watched the other people around me. Children hugged their mothers and fathers to escape the chill of the winter air and buried their faces into the furry hoods of their clothes. A man wraps his coat around his girlfriend to keep her warm despite already shivering himself. Some teenagers built a little snowman with the remnants of the snow before the radiation from the glowing lights melted the snow down to a thin layer. An old couple beside me talks excitedly about finally seeing their son after the years he spent abroad, with their wrinkled hands intertwined, their fingers slipping perfectly into the gaps between the other fingers. 

The sight caused me to think of the human body, which is a strange thing to think about while waiting for the girl of my dreams to return to me. But that is what I thought about as the sky turned a beautiful orange and snow slowly drifted. The body is such a wonderful thing. The anatomy, no matter how different, is perfect nonetheless. Especially when two bodies meet in an embrace, their bodies mould perfectly with each other, completely each other. The place where the shoulder meets the neck is a perfect place to rest a head, and arms are the ideal length to wrap around anyone. The way hands can cup faces like it is their sole function. When two chests press against each other, their hearts are separated solely by skin and clothes. It's the closest two beating hearts will ever be, and that. The way bodies are designed to love is strangely beautiful. 

The final train of the night finally  pulls in, and I find myself watching intently for her. A fray of people pass into and out of the train, hustling to escape the cold and seek their loved ones. I remain seated on the bench, watching and waiting. I noticed her instantly, despite the years that have passed. I would recognize those eyes any day, the colour of a tree, leaves and bark combined. She had grown out her hair and had dyed it to a lighter shade of brown, like the autumn trees. She wore an oversized hoodie with simple jeans, yet she looked as gorgeous as ever, like a light glowing in the darkness. She ran to her parents, sitting a few benches away from me. I smiled despite myself as I watched her reunite with her parents, who had aged significantly in the years that she had been gone. 

"Was the ride okay, dear?" her mother, Luanne, asked. I once sat with Luanne and made tea at their small round table. Now, she had forgotten I had existed. 

"I rode past the hills in Vermont. It was beautiful, just like I remember," Viva responded with a smile that burnt eternally in my memory. She didn't notice me as her father took her suitcases and they made their way to the car parked out front, dusted in a thin layer of snow. They drove away, and I stood at the station entrance with a smile. Just as beautiful as I remembered. At least I still had a memory. People walked past me, not noticing me, as they busied themselves with packing suitcases into cars and escaping the bite of frost. 

I walked alone back towards the town square, following the trail of streetlights that chased the shadows away. I trod through the snow, which covered the grass like a blanket. I watched the steam from the lights float in the air, and I put my hands out to feel the slight warmth of the lamp. I couldn't feel much.

When I returned to town, the moon shimmered above me, watching over me and Viva. I walked past her parent's house, where she was bound to be. I walked past every night and could hear Viva's soft and genuine voice from the inside. I peeked through the window and saw her silhouette through the curtains as she hugged her parents. I smiled at the scene, then moved on, walking through more houses. In the windows, I could see families singing Christmas carols to celebrate the holiday approaching in two days and others adding the final decorations to a Christmas tree.

Some less fortunate families stay in their houses with cracks in old bricks, huddled close to their fireplace, but still grateful that they at least have each other, if nothing else. While others wished for toys and the latest kitchenware, they hoped for nothing more than one another to make it through another. It was a sweet sadness that touched the space in my chest. 

I made my way through the snowy streets, leaving no trail as I made it to the homeless community in a space by the edge of town. I settle next to a lady by the fire. We say nothing to each other, but I enjoy the company the old lady provides me. And perhaps she enjoys my company too. The fire burns brightly, and warmth coats me. The lady's features glow orange, her eyes reflecting the soft flame, and the pain in her eyes from years of struggle seems to dim at the sight of the fire. A few other members of the homeless community were busying themselves at the late hour by decorating an old tree with old bits of cardboard and coloured paper mache they found. They string lights around the crooked branches to make their Christmas tree and sing carols quietly. I wondered how they managed to stay optimistic when their lives were so unfortunate, but I suppose they had grown to appreciate what little they had left. 

 ***

Morning came by slowly, and the bitter cold did not claim any lives tonight. Everybody woke up, and it was the eve of Christmas. I wandered through the market unnoticed while everybody hustled through each stall, trying to purchase last-minute gifts. 

I weaved through the crowd like liquid, and nobody paid attention to me. I walked past each stall before I found Luanne's stall. She looks past me as I walk back, and I smile before I walk past the stall and sneak into an alley. Then I see Viva, looking refreshed and better than ever in the light. Her aura was golden this morning as she arrived at her mother's stall with steaming tea and a bright smile. The scent of bread wafted off her, which meant she had been cooking. I had always loved her cooking, especially her croissants. From my knowledge, she had left town to learn baking with a friend and open a small bakery in the city. I wanted to know how that was going, but I doubt I'd find out. 

Like her mother, she doesn't notice me lingering close by, admiring the back of her head from a distance, watching her princess curls drape over her back. In the light, her hair shone the color of auburn, like autumn leaves that had piled at the base of a tree. It was more beautiful, especially when contrasted with the snow-covered plain behind her. She was a goddess among women. She blessed my tired eyes with her sight in every crowd and made everyone else appear mediocre in comparison. I will know her when I am stripped of all things known to me. Always. 

Her eyes turned my way, and I swore she locked eyes with mine for a moment. My heart leapt when she ran to me, that was until she continued running and embraced someone standing behind me. To her, I was nothing but a quick breeze of air brushing against her bare arm, but I could feel something tingle when our vessels touched. I heard her laugh, and any sadness I felt was gone. My spirit lifted, and I turned to see her hugging an old friend of hers, whose name I'd long since forgotten. 

I smiled for a moment before the crowd swept me away, and led me to the center, where a Christmas tree, a straight one decorated with actual ornament and tinsel, was located. Carols played, but many singing voices drowned out the tune as they swayed with each other and they circled the Christmas tree. Strangers laughed with each other, danced with each other, and connected in ways that would never happen otherwise. This was the singular occasion where everyone could join and connect in ways no other holiday could achieve. Here, it did not matter who you were or what you were going home to; it was just the present moment. And I was content watching from the side, just outside the ring of people singing. 

The singing lasted hours, and all the while, I sat by Luanne's stall, watching over it while she danced with her husband and Viva and sang. I could not hear Viva's voice, though I didn't need to know she would have sung like an angel. People spoke in small groups, handing out food to each other, with the homeless people getting a majority of the food and some warmer clothes without holes and tears filling them. Children were playing in the snow by the park nearby, their screams of enjoyment occasionally heard. When Luanne and her husband made their way back with Viva, I quickly stood up and ducked away. I could overhear them talking with a plate of hot food. 

"You sing just like your father, Viva," Luanne chuckles as she eases herself back into the chair. 

"That would be a compliment, dear; I am a great singer. Like Elvis Presley," Luanne's husband, Tom, replied, wrapping his arm around Viva's shoulders and tickling her cheek with the stubble of white hair sprouting from his chin and jaw. 

Viva laughs, "No, Dad, you're a horrible singer." She eats some food before she hugs her father and mother. She was enjoying her time here, almost like she had never left. To me, she never did leave. I would dream of some version of her each night, and It was like she was truly there. 

"Also, is it okay if I go out tonight?" She asks, her voice lowered so that it's almost a whisper. 

"Of course, dear, just don't be out too late. We want to see you on Christmas day, of course," Luane replied softly, her entire face brightening with the small gesture. 

"Where are you going through Viva?" Tom asked curiously, his arm still around her shoulder. 

"I'm just going to visit an old friend." Luane and Tom shared a glance but then smiled and nodded at her. I watched with interest as they packed up their stall while the sun slowly descended below the horizon and the moon rose, glowing and mysterious ally of the night. I watched through the window as Viva pulled on a coat with an inside made of wool and left the house. I walked behind her, watching her walk through the streets as if she still knew them. 

Her boots left deep footprints in the snow that I matched as I followed her. The air was cold, and I could see steam from her mouth with every breath she took. Snow fell in little flakes that melted on her cheeks and touched her lightly on the head. Her coat hugged her body to battle the cold late-night air. She passed the streets and headed towards the town's more silent and eerie parts. 

The cemetery came into view, and Viva walked straight into it without hesitation. I stopped at the entrance, watching her as she disappeared into the darkness, and then I followed her in. Lights flickered as I passed the lights, and Viva walked through the paths. She didn't stop to look at any graves or to admire them, almost like she knew what she came for. Then I saw the little maple tree, familiar and uninviting, come into view. Viva walked straight towards it. Something caught in my throat, and I faltered with my steps. I followed behind cautiously, and she stopped at a grave. She kneeled and sat in the snow, brushing off the thin layer to read the gravestone. I didn't need to read it to know who it was. 

"Hi Hewie," she murmured, smiling sadly. I walked beside her and then crept to the other side of the gravestone to look at her face. 

"Hi, Viv," I replied, knowing she wouldn't hear me. Moments of silence passed between us as she looked at my gravestone. She pulled something from her coat pocket and placed it on the wet grass. I saw myself, young, with my black hair slicked back with a grin. Back then, I was too egotistical and over-confident for my own good. She smiled at the picture and then looked back at the gravestone. Tears were shimmering in her eyes, but she wasn't sad. 

"I finally came back. It's been three years," Viva said with a smile, crossing her legs. 

"Felt like an eternity," I whisper, leaning my head, or what would be my head, on the gravestone. She couldn't see me, and I was grateful for that. If she did see me, she would likely panic upon seeing a translucent body with my voice in front of her.

"I opened the bakery," Viva continued, lifting her head slightly. "My friend Jason and I co-run the place. It was rough initially, but we had a surge of luck, almost like a blessing, and our bakery took off!" Her voice grew louder as she got more excited, and I couldn't help but smile. Her voice was like honey as she shared her life with me. She described life in the city, with bright flashing lights and apartments like mountains. She told me of a life I couldn't even fathom, yet she was living it. And she was enjoying it. I saw the familiar spark in her eyes as she spoke, the same spark she used to get when she'd hold my hand and explain the plot of her favorite book. 

As she finished speaking, her tone grew soft and solemn again, a tear falling from her cheek. I reached out to wipe it, but the tear was still there when I brushed a thumb over the wet spot on her face. She sniffled and wiped it herself, and my heart sank. 

"Life is not the same without you, Hewie," she whispered, her voice slightly nasally as she sniffled again, more tears ready to trail down her face. 

"I'll always be with you, Viv," I said in my weak attempt to feel like I could comfort her. "In your memories; They keep me alive." 

"You'll probably be saying something super dorky right now about always watching over me or something like that." She chuckled, filling me with a familiar sensation only she could elicit. 

I laughed with her. "You know me too well." I paused and stepped over my grave to sit directly before her. 

"It might sound crazy, but I feel like you're here, listening to me." She picked the photo up off the ground and put it back into her pocket. "My mom says the same thing. She says she feels your presence sometimes."

"That's because I'm watching over her, just like I promised." The day that Viva left for the city, she came to my grave and asked me to look after her parents because she was worried they wouldn't be okay on their own. But they were perfectly fine; I made sure of that. 

Viva paused. "If you can hear me, can you give me a sign?" I frowned, knowing there was nothing that I could do to prove to her that I was there. She waited a few minutes, and I saw her hope diminishing with every passing minute. 

"I guess not," she whispered. Then she checked her watch. I peeked over, and I realized it was midnight—Christmas day. 

"Merry Christmas, Hewie," she murmured, smiling. Looking back up, I noticed we were staring at one another. I knew she couldn't see me. I cupped her face with invisible hands, and I kissed her forehead. 

"Merry Christmas, Viv," I replied softly with a smile. She absentmindedly touches the place on her forehead where I kissed her as she looks at her watch. A few minutes of silence pass before she gets up. 

"I'll see you soon." She kissed her fingers and pressed lightly on my gravestone. Then she turned around and returned home, and I followed right behind her.