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Flower Bed Wednesdays

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Some things can never be explained, like how our skies remain the same. And I wonder how the sky would look without my star. Sleep seems a dream away and a year too late. Words that can't be spoken stream out my face, And I want to be selfish, I want to be selfish. I want to be selfish, you're my everything.


Green like the bottom of an algae coated pond. Flecked with hazel like the pencil crayon I used to use. I stared into his eyes for what seemed like the billionth time, again consumed by their fairytale beauty. I looked away unwillingly, towards the fountain. I had to desensitize myself.
"Oliver, we can't keep doing this." I said in a flat voice. He groaned.
"That's probably the hundreth time I've heard you say that, you know." He said, blowing air through his lips and making the dark hair that fell onto his forehead dance.
"I know." Silence followed. I crossed my arms and looked around, the tulips in the flowerbeds beneath our feet were in bloom. I hadn't noticed. There was a lot of things I didn't notice when I was with Oliver. Like the time of day, for instance, or the season.
"Avery?" His honey coated voice called me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him once more, cursing myself. His perfectly structured face met my gaze.
"What?" I asked.
"Why can't we? I never understand when you say that." He asked, looking up and slouching down so that his elbows were half buried in the fertilized dirt, and rays of sun hit his forehead.
"Because it isn't working, and you know it."
"But it isn't hurting anyone." He stated. That was true, in a way.
"If you focus on results, you will never change. If you focus on change, you will get results." He said airily. I rolled my eyes. Not another one of his quotes.
"Who's that one from?"
"Jack Dixon." He said, still looking upwards.
"Couldn't we just not see each other?" I asked after another lengthy silence, biting my lip.
"But that wouldn't fix the problem." He said, sighing. "Avery, you're being unreasonable. We've been doing this forever. I'm convinced it will work."
"Only 6 months actually." I said quietly.
"Half a year." He said. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.
"That isn't that long." I commented.
"It's the lifespan of a coastal jellyfish." He said, again torturing me with his useless facts. "So really, it's a lifetime. Or as I said before, forever." He layed back, putting his hands behind his head. Another silence. The sun was now setting, and the sounds of the park were fading. A few persistant little kids skipped rope or kicked a ball halfheartedly. One pretentious looking lady gave us a glare as she walked past the flowerbeds, towing her toddler behind her.
"Oliver, it's not going to work." I said. "It was only a dream."
"Stop." He said.
"I just want as much time with you as possible. Either that or no contact at all, so it won't hurt so much when it happens."
"When what happens?" He asked. "I want to hear you say it. I hate the word it."
"No." I answered simply. He shrugged.
"Avery. I was only supposed to live five months. It's been six. It's working. Why are you so pessimistic?" He asked me. I groaned.
"Do you honestly believe that sitting in this flower bed for two hours every Wednesday is going to cure your cancer? It was a dream." I said angrily.
"Yes I do. And you must also, because you're here with me." He sat up again, and brushed the hair out of my face.
"Only because you asked me to come. I want to take you to chemotherapy."
"I'm not going." He said firmly. I sighed, and shuffled sideways, so that I was next to him. I pressed myself into his side. He rested his head on top of mine. "Why don't you trust me?"
"I do. I trust you." I said.
"Then why should we stop doing this?" He asked, curling one of my loose red ringlets around his finger.
"Because I don't want you to die."
"You said it." He commented. I didn't say anything. Once again, a silence followed his words.
"Maybe I'm supposed to go, maybe it's my time. God probably has some heroic job for me to do up in heaven, that only I can do." He said sarcastically. A tear rolled down my cheek. He was so calm and un-phased by the whole thing.
"But you still have a job down here on earth. What will I do when you're gone?" I asked him. He wiped the tear from my face.
"You'll find someone who loves you just as much as I do, and live happily ever after." He said.
"I won't want anyone else."
"I don't want you to want anyone else. But I want you to be happy." He said quietly.
"I can't be happy unless you're here." I told him.
"That's not true. You were happy before you met me."
"That's because I didn't know anything was missing." I whispered. He didn't say anything for a long time.
"Ave, you know I'll miss you, and everyone, and I know it'll be hard on people, but can't we just live in the moment? I'm still here now, aren't I?" He asked. I nodded.
"But what if I never find anyone else?" I asked, grinding my teeth.
"You will, and I'll be jealous of him. But I'll be happy for you." He said, looking down. "I thought we were going to stop talking about that."
"Sorry." I said. He squeezed me gently, and stood up. He held out his hand for me, and I took it. I brushed the dirt off my shorts, and took a deep breath. We walked slowly out of the now dark park, Oliver kicking leaves that lay on the ground. He walked me to my house, just a couple streets down. We didn't talk the whole way. We stopped at the path that led to my door. He took both my hands, and faced me, still not saying anything. He held them tightly, his eyes burning into my soul. He stepped closer and brushed his nose against mine. I closed my eyes.
"I love you." He said.
"How much?" I asked quietly.
"To the moon and back." He said breathily, like he was trying not to cry. I had never heard him like that. "Across the ocean. Around the world 200 times. Over the mountains." Our lips touched and his words were silenced. I wasn't thinking about anything else in that moment. Nothing. It was perfect and agonizingly painful at the same time. He pulled away too soon. He squeezed my hands tightly again, and then let go. He touched my face gently. He stepped closer and smelled my hair, inhaling. He fit his arms around me, and then let go.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Remembering you. So I'll never ever forget." He said. He looked at me once more, and I got lost for the last time in those mossy sanctuaries he called eyes.



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Sarbear This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
May 7, 2010 at 8:45 pm:
this needs to be in the magazine.
 
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