Two Hearts, One Love

ಡ⁠

☬

Part 1

    If I were to tell a love story, it would be of a kind every lover would wish to live as a reality. I would tell of a love story where a girl full of scars and bruises is loved by a boy who lives the best life but broken too many times so he knows how to keep her safe. I wouldn't exaggerate but how can I not tell about their struggles against the world.

    In every page, I would put one drop of their pain. Pain from how the world stabs them for loving each other so much. I would tell everything from start to finish, never letting their beautiful memories go in vain. It would be one where they lived happily ever after.

     It would start all like this;

    The blazing sun heat made its way deep down to his brain but he doesn't mind. As long as he was with the only one that mattered to him the most in the world, he doesn't care what or who came his way. For three years, he had been coming here to sit, as he played with nature, imagining what it would be to have her as the first thing to see when he wakes up in the morning.

    He has dreaded for such moments but they never seems so real as they are in his head—in the real world. In the real world he had to sit here under the sun, waiting for her. Sometimes he'd wonder if she saw him coming through those barns.

    It was love like no any other, well maybe on his side, the first time. She tried as much as she could to make time for him but the work in the farm was all hers.

    Many people, especially those who know them used to ask, “How did they manage to come this far?”

    Well I know how they came this far. Like how the birds watches the farmer grow his crops and how the farmer makes the perfect timing for the rains, I was there when they first met, when they first kiss and when they did their first things. I was there in everything. I watched this two lovebirds grow wings and fly freely in the sky. For, I was the one who grew wings with her.

    Angie was only 13. She lived in the farm with no one except her old granny. She had no other kids to play with because in the countryside, farms are 10km apart and the nearest farm, Mr. Dorine’s has not seen any living being since it was sold about decades ago. Everything is rusted. And it looked like a haunted place. No one goes near it.

    With no one in her small world, she got lost in the other worlds of the characters in the books she'd managed to steal. Old granny never let her set her eyes on the book, not unless she did two times the normal works she has to do in the farm. Everyday the work just gets tougher and heavier because she'd fallen in love with one of the characters and wants to spend every single day with him.

    Sometimes she could steal the books to the old barns and read. And many times old granny seems to be having cameras in her farm because just as she reaches the most important part of the story, she'd bang the door so hard the Earth also screams. As the old granny got meaner, Angie got more slivery.

    She has learned to hide and keep out, to speak, and to sympathize with the old granny. Not once in a million times did she get on the wrath of old granny ever since the first and last night. That night was freezingly cold, the farm acted as though it had been told to send the demons and ghosts. Old granny was mad at Angie and locked her out.

    Well, that was the last time she tasted the wrath.

    After that night, they are always just like Tom and Jerry.

    Years have passed and Angie celebrated her 16th birthday in her little room with “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens on her lap as she blew the candle.

    Her life has been one no sane human being would dream of or wish to live. After the death of her parents when she was only 4, Carolyn, who is now old granny took over the property of Mr. Craig. Even though she saw everyone else sell their farms and leave the countryside for much better places, she never wanted to leave.

     Nights after nights, Angie would ask the same question, “When are we leaving, granny, I can't wait to go to school.”

    “Not too long!” She would say, every time.

    First, one year pass and they didn't move out. Then two years. Then three. Then four. Then five. And up to ten years pass and they were still in the Old farm. Angie watched as Watson and Jeannie, her only friends left. Tears raced down her cheeks like a stream in the fields.

    Once in awhile, the only person she could see is the Milk man. He came when the need for milk hits towns. When he comes, he stay for a night.

    Angie got her books from the newsletter guy who comes once in a week. And she never had chance to meet him in person. It was only when she wrote a birthday wish and posted it on the mailbox. She waited for three months after her birthday and never received her wishes.

    One sunny day, as she walks on the flower fields, gathering the best tulips and roses, her eyes brought to light a box by the fence. She acted as quickly as her legs took her. She got the box and opened it. To her most delightful surprise, she got her hands on the books she'd forever talked about in her dreams. Though her 4th grade grammar was not a big level, she managed to read through the pages quite good. And with time, she did better.

    Time after time, she kept writing to the unknown person and as promised, she got her books by the fence. Books even those she didn't have idea exist.

    Granny was aging, and the worse Angie feared could happen was what if granny breathed her last breath and moved on to the next life? Who would know that she exists? Will the farm be hers and sell it so she could use all the money for her education? When will granny kick the bucket? Why do granny get to be so mean? All these are the questions lingering in her mind and she can't answer them.

    Mr. Dorine’s old farm saw life one evening when the lights went on. Angie thought the old ghosts were tired of sleeping in the house without fun. That they chose the stormy evening to come out and cheer themselves up for living there, year in year out. Granny saw it too but she didn't seem to have any little fear in her eyes.

    She sips her coffee like all the things happening around her are a dream that she would wake up from, sooner or later.

    “Are the stories about ghosts and demons in haunted houses real?” Angie asked amidst fear and curiosity.

    “I don't know for you,” granny looked up from kneading her net, “When I was a kid I was told those stories and I never believed them.” she placed down the net and rose to her feet.

    “Do you think that that light over there might be ghosts?” she asked, this time moving closer to granny's chair.

    “No. If you believe in them, then they're ghosts.” granny said hoarsely before she disappeared to her room. Angie sat alone, wandering in thoughts and wondering what she'd do if her room is inhabited by a ghost.

    The scary scenarios she had developed in her mind didn't last a life time because sleep is the master of everything even fear. A loyal guard to death.

    Early in the morning, Angie woke up and made tea for herself and coffee for granny.

    Her day started pretty much like all the other days but ended like none. She got dressed, gumboots on and a full bee fighter costume. Today she has prepared to take on the bees in the hives before they get up stronger.

    She harvested, hive after hive all up to six hives, taking the honey to granny's store where the honey would be purified. That work too was her take.

     Her day just started that way and there's so much more to do.

***

    I have never seen such beauty with my two eyes since I left my mom's womb. Even though I had never seen an angel, I compare her to an angel. Maybe an angel with broken wings.

    At seeing her, the hay in my hands fell and everything around me stopped. Dad had to tap my shoulder after several unanswered calls. He stood behind me and looked at the direction I was looking to. He saw, the girl if my dreams. I had no need to tell him I fell for that girl because heaven knows I had already did, even if I didn't know about her.

    We just moved in and Dad told me there was no one leaving in Old Pickbell town. That thought, and all my fantasies about her ended in tragedy and horror. How could she be that beautiful and yet live in this poor old town. Why waste her beauty here while she could make best headlines for international magazines.

    Through the day, I was doing everything with her face on my mind. I tried placing her at the back of my mind by displaying the best memories I had last summer at the beach but not one good memory stuck to be played.

    I saw her just once but how many times would her face show up on everything I did, saw or imagined. The day passed in a blink of an eye. Dad has me do some stuffs while he watches me do them. After I did everything, he asked why I looked at the girl I saw earlier like that. Everything about her came back to live again. The lips. The hazel eyes. The blonde hair. Everything about her is just perfect.

    “She lives in Mr. Craig's farm next over there,” dad said pointing to the what I'd assumed was the farm, “Her granny came by to say hi.” he added after seeing the confusion in my eyes.

    She's a lone soul her in the dirty poor old town. Maybe I didn't learn about love or the less than a hundred books I read didn't mention about a lone to be craving for love. Maybe she'd learned to love herself more than anyone. I thought because she's lonely, she'd need me.

     ***

    Some many things happened in the two weeks I'd lived here. I got better at being a morning person and doing some farm works. My hands don't hurt anymore from carrying the hay. Dad taught my some many things too. A knowledge of many things I was not taught in school. I loved the dust, rust and the paint colors of my room more than when I came that night.

    What makes the two weeks more like a good day is Diana’s presence. I loved her the moment I saw her and now that I had known who she is, what her soul has and what her world is like, I even love her more. Everyday I had wanted to be with her. Cherishing the nature, watching as the stream carry our hopes and dreams to the future where our destines are written.

    On Saturdays, dad gave me the car and we drove to town. I love the way she smiles at the things she told me she'd wished to see with her eyes. Her life had been lived in the Old town that has nothing except the unhabitable buildings on the streets. She booked her favorite books and other stuffs she needs.

    That day, I realized how important it is for someone to see or have what they have wanted all their life. That day, I realized that to have freedom and happiness is one thing the world should start idolizing.

    Want more? Next part is coming soon!