Beverly Clair

When I turned sixteen, I had recently gotten a waiter job at Ruby Rose's Diner. The diner was a small building with a vintage look. It had a flashing sign that said EAT in illuminated reddish letters.

If I had the choice, I would never had wanted to work there, but my parents strictly enforced that I stay busy over the summer. I had many great qualities; muscular build, wide smile, brown skin, most of the girls in my school had crushes on me, but my biggest flaw was my laziness.

My next door neighbor, Mr. Macintosh owned Ruby Rose's he offered a job as soon as I asked for it. Mac, as my five younger siblings liked to call him, had kind eyes and a small pink cape house. He was around thirty-five years old and had the same amount of younger siblings as I did and the same amount of kids that my parents had.

One night, Mac rushed over to our house at 11:30 with nothing but his wife, three youngest children, and a striped umbrella. I didn't hear most of it, but he had frantically said something about his sister, his brother-in-law, and his nephew.

Suddenly, I was in charge of the three kids, along with my own siblings.

Days later, the kids were still in our home, along with the other three that were at their house the night of the visit. They were not easy kids to take care of. Each of my siblings shared a bed with one of the little ones and I was the one who had to take care of the twin babies who were only a couple of months old. Waking up countless times throughout the night, I realized that I didn't ever want to have kids.

A month after Mac's frantic visit, the kids finally went home to live with their parents. Mr. Macintosh came over for dinner the next night to "properly" thank us and explain the situation.

"My sister and her husband were in an accident," said Mac, "Their only daughter will be living with me."

"Such a shame, such a shame," said my father.

"I'm so sorry," said my mother.

"Her name's Beverly Clair and she is around Will's age," Mac turned to me, "She'll have to go to your school, from now on."

"William, go over to Mr. Macintosh's house and welcome the guest, please," said my father.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

My father had always been strict. He was a lieutenant in the Navy when the second world war was fought. He kept all of his medals and honors in the book shelf, so that all of our guests could see them.

I hustled out of the door before my father could command me again.

When I arrived at the Macintosh house, there was a huddle of little kids circling around a bigger little kid who was reading them a bedtime story. Although Mac had said that the new girl was my age, she looked a foot shorter and at least two years younger than me.

"... And they all lived happily ever after," said the girl, who had a quiet, soft, chirpy voice, "The end."

"Is this a bad time?" I questioned, knowing from experience that the Macintosh kid's were hard to put to sleep.

"No, it's fine," said that chirpy voice.

She had loose curls in her brown hair that seemed to bounce on her shoulders and her brown eyes were so deep that if you looked to far, you could fall down, down, down. Beverly Clair was the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen. The way that she dressed, like she didn't care what anyone else thought intimidated me, being one who cared about what people said about me or the way that they looked me up and down. I wanted to make Beverly Clair my wife, and that is just what I did.

At first, she was shy towards me. Not knowing if I'd like her, but I always told her that she was beautiful. Every day, my dad would tell me to bring over some of our breakfast because we were close with the Macintosh's, but while I dropped that off, I would also leave a letter for Beverly Clair, signing it S.A. Secret Admirer. I didn't know if I was jumping into the whole relationship thing too fast, because one day we were strangers, and the next, I was her S.A.

One night, she wrote back, when bringing us back our dirty dishes from breakfast, now cleaned.

The letter was written in scrawly cursive:

Dear S.A.,

Meet me at the park at 10:00

Yours truly,

S.O.

Significant other.

Within a year, we were meeting at the park by ten every day. Sometimes we looked up at the stars. As I got to know her better, I realized that Beverly Clair had a true heart of gold. She was kind, honest, and smart, but most of all, she never took no for an answer.

On April 16th, she whispered the words to me, the ones that I'd always wanted to hear. The three words that I needed to survive.

"I love you."

Years later, I was still working at the old diner. My parents didn't have the money for college so I stayed, as did Beverly Clair. Our paths never parted, we were inseparable, so when I brought up the idea of buying an apartment in the city nearby, she took the chance.

Beverly Clair was so giddy the day that we moved into the small studio apartment. She had high hopes for the place. Instead of seeing the wall as a wall, she saw it as a canvas. Boy, that girl could paint. She could paint a bird that looked even more pretty than a bird, it was like she had a magic paintbrush.

One night, while we were sleeping in our bed, Beverly Clair whispered to me, "Hey, Will."

"Yeah," I croaked, half awake.

"We should get married."

"Okay."

That's what we did.

Four weeks later, we had our small wedding. It was nothing exciting, but it was enough for the both of us. The wedding was at the park, our special place, there were no guests, just us and the priest. There was one man who Beverly Clair hired to take pictures.

The pictures captured our love and summed it up into one image.

Now, many years after marrying the girl of my dreams, I sit in a hospital chair, next to my beloved. Beverly Clair lays on the bed with her eyes half open.

"Hey, Bev."

I know that she doesn't have the strength to answer.

"I love you."

Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with their heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation.

-Rumi