Someone who changed her life without realising it

The most people who change our lives are our parents, or siblings and at most our grandparents and friends.

They help mould it, stringently at times, lovingly at others.

Lovers mould and change your life too.

In fact, she had had a few such loved ones in her life.

When she was fifteen, she saw him raking up the leaves from his garden. A quiet shy girl she was, it wasn’t until he had seen her quietly mowing her lawn at evenings that he spoke to her.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she said.

He paused awkwardly with the broom for a moment and she blushed, ever so slightly.

“Goodbye,” she said.

He nodded.

They went to their respective homes.

When it was evening again, it was time to meet him again.

This time, he looked bolder and she demure. She had practiced talking to him in her mind the day before and it had gone great. He had laughed with her.

“I’m mighty pleased with my mowing today,” she said.

“Yes,” he would say, “but look how splendidly I finished up – not a tender leaf to be found anywhere.”

“I dare you to show me where I have gone wrong,” she added boldly, and amusedly.

“Come then,” he said and he held her hand and almost dragged her towards the spot at a corner and pointed – “look, there!”

She was but fifteen and when she was brought there she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I left that spot on purpose,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, perplexed.

“Because, then, you would lead me here.”

It was his time to get shy. He was a little slovenly and his baggy pants were drooping slightly.

“Your pants –“ she said once and looked away.

“I am sorry,” he said and fixed it, his face red.

Once he was done, she assured him, “It’s okay, Tim”; he was about to bolt.

They sat down and chatted.

He complimented her hair (no wonder, she had shampooed it and brushed it a hundred times) and she complimented his boots. She would have asked him to race her but she was afraid his pants might fall off. She laughed inwardly at the thought and her spirits, that your loved ones bring into being, soared.

Bessie looked glad. She had fallen for someone in a day.

But alas for her, he was called out to town, never to return.

The pillows which muffled her cries was no more wet by tears after 6 months.

And she stopped dreaming of him as well.

Her very first crush, a small love that came and was lost.

Was she changed? There was a blunted edge to her belief but other than that, there was no change.

Life went on as usual. She went to study music in London and came back to her home. 5 years of rigorous training that had started when she was 18 years old and ended at 23 yrs.

She had turned into an attractive young girl, wise beyond her years.

Music was her passion, her life flowed with the notes of her music.

Now let us carry on to the real story.

Bessie could sing, but had never sung before.

It was after Tim’s departure that she realised she could not live her life unsated and undermined. She had a feeling that if, only if, she had told Tim of her feelings, he wouldn't have left.

And so the timid Bessie became bold. After all, you had only one life to live.

Nobody knew the darkness that she held hidden. When the passion interluded, her feelings flowed like a river, and she simply flowed along with it, tethered only by her heart. Nobody knew that Bessie.

Bessie was boisterous, chirpy, bold and social to all. She was the life of the room. A flower in bloom.

But she was a moonshade, bluer on the inside than on the outside.

Her blue heartstrings could be plucked to sing light lilting softer notes of sadness.

Because as far as she could remember she was not…happy.

She did find solace in her music before it started to ebb, leaving her in monotony again.

Her teachers had given her a gold mine of knowledge and she had utilised it well. Many sad people were good at music but…

She thought no further of it. She would think no further of it..

She didn’t remain unscathed. She thought she had fallen in love with two other characters in her life, only to realise that they “loved” her for her beauty and voice.

What can you call love if it’s only for the qualities that you have?

One day she was out there, in a Regency-themed fair as a singer.

She carefully noticed the crowd and there he was – Tim!

She couldn’t be sure, but there was that smile on his face that punched her gutturally.

That same Tim!

She excused herself and found the road to him.

“Tim!” she said.

He bowed.

“Bessie,” he smiled.

“Since when did you become this suave?”

“Ever since you noticed me. Care for this dance?”

Bessie nodded.

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

Bessie came home and thought if this was it.

Did she want to lose this chance at love?

Was this attraction a cause for love or would passion get washed away in want for something deeper?

The next day she rose up to a column in the local newspaper that went as follows,

“The attractive and the ever-noticed Bessie Arkhaime was seen singing at the ever famous Themed Regency Fair outside the Tanner House. Tim Tanner was seen flirting with the Miss. Is there going to be a courtship between the two?

Meanwhile, trouble seems to be brewing at the Arkhaime home where Bessie’s father suffered an epileptic attack, the third this year, and his mother wanted to leave them both. Is the Arkhaime home at peace or facing an impending calamity?”

Bessie stopped reading.

It hurt her chest when she read the paragraph about her mother and father.

She’d never been so lonely before.

“We must get out Now!” hurried her father.

He held Bessie’s hand and tugged.

His mother stopped him in his tracks.

“You can’t take our daughter away!” she shouted.

“You're a meddlesome horrid woman! You've hired goons and you’re – you're going to attack us at night!” her dad shrieked.

“Don’t be silly,” her mother said and tried to disengage her hands from her father's.

Bessie could feel tears coming to the surface.

Her dad wasn’t his normal self. He had, as they say, gone “mad”.

It took nothing to call one mad. So many things put in a word.

Like love.

Someone who does not possess the adequate idea for reality. Someone who is rash, acts outside of the social norms. Someone who thinks there are things that don’t really exist.

Take your pick.

It was better to say he had been hiding from people, because, he trusted no one. Better to say he was having epileptic fits than... this.

Something triggered Bessie’s father and he took up a foot long stick and he was going to hit her mother when Bessie blocked him.

“Father, please!” she begged.

“Get out of my sight!” her father called.

“No, father,” she said, “everything is fine.”

This was one of the few times this happened.

At one other time, her dad suspected there was poison in the food and wouldn’t eat it or let Bessie eat it.

Soon marital bliss had turned into poison and the Bessie found herself at either ends of a tug-of-war.

Now she was left with no friends at all. Ever since the others gossiped about her.

“Shawn told me she is mad,” a nameless person whispered quietly.

Better her than her dad...being called mad and to the forefront.

But somehow, no one believed she was mad. Just quiet, secluded.

The next day, Tim came to call on her.

She opened the door of the house ever so slightly.

“Hello Bessie, it’s me,” Tim said.

“Hi Tim,” she said.

“I have got flowers for you,” he added.

Bessie smiled, ever so slightly.

Her father had just been put on a sedative.

She came out of the house into the street.

“It’s not a great time, maybe we could go outside,” she said.

“Sure, let’s take a walk,” Tim said.

So they walked.

“What have you been up to, Tim?”

“I am a veterinarian.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Mostly taking care of the horses.”

“Wait, weren’t you with the horses at the Regency-themed Fair that day?”

“You’re right. One of the horses stopped strutting midway and so they needed a vet.”

Bessie felt better.

“So you’re not some rich person out in search of a wife.”

“Not in search of a wife,” he said.

“Unless,” he continued, “unless you are in need of a husband.”

Bessie was not even abashed.

“Really?” she asked.

“A proposal out of the blue?” she asked, lowering her voice as she noticed a woman walking by.

“I knew you wouldn’t agree to it,” teased Tim.

“But,” he said seriously, “if you need help with the horses, check this,” he slid his hand over hers in a handshake and withdrew.

“I am going back to town and I don’t know when I will be back,” he said.

They were back at the Arkhaime home.

“Goodnight,” he bowed.

“Goodnight,” she said.

She looked at him go away and in the fading daylight she saw a note:

“Yesterday I came by to check the horses. But then I heard your father bellowing. Call this number at the town - you can find help when you need to. I am a doctor working part-time as a vet. And this is the number of my Teacher who is a Professor - an expert in the matters of the mind. Sedatives only go so far. Don’t worry, this sensitive secret will be safe with me. I hope you’ll call.”

Bessie gave a genuine smile.

Who knew how to-the-point and sweet Tim could be.

Turns out, her first instincts were right.

She decided, the next time she saw him, SHE would be the one to court him.

That is, if he was ever interested...

Nevertheless, she was thankful for having met him after so long, after all.