I once thought that the most awkward memory I had was anything that had to do with my first love. I didn’t even want to think about that time despite having vivid flashbacks. It turns out this will be all that was left for me to think about.
I was 11 in the summer of 2007. He was 14 and he lived next door. He was fair, tall, and cute. He scribbled something on a piece of paper, gave it to me, and he started running. It turns out he’s cowardly asking me out. He would finish the chores early so he could see me. On some days I would see him smiling while writing something on a whole piece sheet of paper. He would then insert the paper into the hole in the wall that connects to our house. It turns out to be a love letter that I would read over and over until it saturates me. We would meet at our friend’s house and talk for hours on end. He would hold my hand and stare at me for a long time. I would randomly receive a message on my phone from an email with strings of I Love Yous. On some days he would clap his hands so I would know he was outside. On the days that they moved to another place and I was sulking in my room, I would hear the familiar clap only to find him outside in his beige shirt, khaki pants, and clean-cut haircut.
He would walk miles from where they lived just to see me, and he would walk back to their home because he had to study. He couldn’t care less about the tiredness and distance because he wanted to see me, his first love.
One day, he decided to courageously face my father. He spent the evening in our home being sermoned at. I would be sitting upstairs, angry and humiliated, just because I wanted to keep us a secret. He eventually became my father’s ultimate favorite and they would spend hours hanging out.
Then I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. We didn’t get to end things up. He cried that day. I never saw him then.
Seventeen years later, he passed away.
Memories came rushing all at once that it was so hard for me to keep up. I was his first love and the first to break his heart. He was a good person, so innocent and pure. My heart was shattered when I learned that while I was living the years of my youth, he spent 17 years checking out on me secretly. I could have said I was sorry for breaking his heart all the while he remained faithful but all I did is brush him off my memory. All those years he never stopped thinking about me. I was confident that he would live his life fruitfully, but I didn’t know it would only be 31 fruitful years.
All that was left of me were the memories of the summer of 2007 and 17 years’ worth of sighs, longings, and regrets.
I left him crying that day but he didn’t know that when it was time for him to leave, I would be the one to cry the hardest.
“It would be perfect,” I thought if only it happened sometime in the future when he’s no longer a coward and I am not desperate.
littlemissincredible 