Beloved

I sit quietly on the sterile chair, tightening my shawl across my body. The air conditioning here chills my soul. It is always so cold, so unwelcoming. I lean on the hard chair, my eyes tracing my heart lying in front of me.

I remembered the first time I met you. It was such a beautiful day. The sky was calm, the wind was flirtatious. I could almost taste spring on my lips. And then you appeared. 

You came through the bookstore, rang that silly old bell as you opened that entrance door. I laughed internally as I heard your flinch. I leaned my head forward, curious to know which part the new guest would go. The Literature section? The Mystery section? Or even perhaps, I smiled to myself, the Romance section. It was always the quiet ones who chose the most unexpected option. I wanted to know. 

You were a puzzle I wanted to decipher, no matter if this was the first time you had been in my bookshop. I felt like I knew you.

You paused as you walked past the cashier. I tilted my head. Waiting. 

You walked all the way back, to the old and musky Home Improvement section. How…interesting. The bell for the cashier rang. Well, I thought. Back to work I guess.

The second time I met you… I could not be too sure at the start. A man stood in my way as I carried books in my hands. This man had the same smell as the Home Improvement man. Was it you? I questioned you. Yes, yes. You agreed, excitedly. You introduced yourself — the new part-timer at the bookstore. Today was your first day, and suddenly, books were taken off my hands. You carried them without asking for permission. I was shocked, I must confess. Where to? You asked. Where? I replied, confused. You left without waiting for my answer.

That was not the best impression I had of you, I laugh now. I dap my handkerchief at the corners of my eye, folding it in my shaking hands.

The next time I met you, you learned my boundaries. How I kept track of people, how I navigated the store, and most importantly, how not to shock me with sudden movements. It might have been your willingness to learn more about me, to not have stereotypes colour your vision of me, that my guard became thinner and thinner. We became closer as we shared stories — first of books, then of ourselves.

And eventually, you asked a question I had not expected to answer.

“Your eyes.” You touched your forehead onto mine. “Those are Beloved eyes, able to fall in love with any one.” I pulled away. You held my hands. “Why don’t you fix them?” Why would you bear such darkness?

I heard those unspoken words, his sadness for me.

I told him my truth.

“Because I treasure freedom. I want my love to be someone I choose. And I want my love to choose me himself.”

You hugged me tightly then. Do you still remember? I stare at the thin man in front of me, various tubes connecting to support life. Your eyes are covered with bandages. Tears drip down my cheeks. I grip the dressings that wrapped around my head only minutes before. I hold your hand in mine. “Don’t leave me alone.” Salty droplets continue to fall down my face. 

“He wanted this.” The doctor place his hands onto my shoulder, anchoring me as my world starts to crumble. He says his truth. “He will always be with you.”

The life machine starts to beep noisily. 

My heart plummets. It was too soon. Not now!

I see your head move. I move towards you. I see your smile that I could only trace before, your slightly crooked front teeth, your straight nose. I see you now. My shy, excited, handsome love. 

I brush my fingers across your face, tracing every edge, every corner of your face. Your face rises to mine.

“I love you.”

Your smile widens.

And it softens, as the machine stops its noise. 

---

“You know,” a young man stood beside a blind lady, hands interlocking. “This was where I fell in love with you.” He confessed. He dragged a hand through his hair, embarrassed to finally tell her the story she ever wanted to know.

“Here?” His heart’s love questioned. He looked at the noisy street, the endless cars and traffic. “Yes, here.” He took her hand. “Come, let me show you.” The young man walked slowly, knowing his love had not gotten used to sight yet. They walked together to the edge of the street, neighbouring a primary school. The two stopped. A group of school children were walking towards them, perfect students in all their imagery.

“Is that---” The lady focused on a young girl, excitedly chit-chatting with her best friend about the day. She remembered that day. How she learned to fold aeroplanes, and how it flew across the school’s pond, hit the principal’s forehead and got a scolding right after. She loved telling that story. She saw her first rainbow then.

“Yes.” He smiled. “I fell in love right then. Right then, and from then on.”

The scene in front of them faded. 

A bell rang as a wooden door opened. The sight of books now filled her sight. Countless shelves of titles and headers about Best Sellers, Most Popular, Best Reviewed, lined the bookstore. She saw, in front of them, a female sitting behind the cashier desk, face resting on one hand and sunglasses on her eyes.

“Come,” he pulled her into the Home Improvement corner. “What do you see?”

Her lips curved. “You always needed help for your house?” He chuckled. Turning her clockwise, the man repeated his question. “What do you see?”

Customers were walking into and out of the bookstore, bypassing the cashier desk that was in the centre of their view, unblocked by the many tall shelves. The lady looked at her husband. “Was this why you spent ages manning this section?”

The man grinned. “I like to see your reactions whenever I gave you those notes.”

Her lips trembled. Yes, those precious notes she kept at her bedside, made for her who had no sight.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged. 

He held her close, kissed her forehead.

“I will always be with you.”