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The Angel That Left Me
Mid October. My favorite time of year. I step out into the cool breeze as the leaves whirl around me with a guitar strapped to my back, and I think of him. I think of how his dark hair would sway in the breeze, of how his icy blue eyes contrasted with the brown and red leaves falling from the trees. It’s been exactly four months since he‘s been gone. Forever.
I think back to when I first met him. It was a day like this; perfect weather and just the right amount of sunlight. I was walking down main street in my favorite skinny jeans and my A Day To Remember hoodie when I saw him sitting alone on a park bench. He was hold a rose with his head down, and I saw a single tear roll down his cheek. I approached him with caution, as if he were a frightened animal. “
Are you okay?” I asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me with an expression of pure despair. Without hesitation, I embraced him in a hug. He quietly wept into my shoulder, I felt the tears seep through my hoodie. I pulled away and wiping the tears from his face, asked
“She’s gone,” he said and lowered his head again.
“Who’s gone?” I asked him, even though I hadn’t caught his name. “Leida. She left me with nothing but a note,” he said and more tears came pouring from his crystal blue eyes. I wrapped my arms around him once more and let him weep into my shoulder some more.
“My only wish is that I could have said goodbye.” he said in between tears. I laid my hand on the back of his head and told him that I was here for him. He looked up for a moment and asked, “What was your name?”
“Jaime.” I told him.
“Dimitri Angelo, but you can call me Angelo or Dimi.” he told me.
“Do you want to walk with me?” I asked. He nodded and I stood up, offering him my hand. He took it, but seemed timid.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” We walked until we made it to our small town’s cemetery.
“Can I show you something?” he asked. “Even though we’ve only just met? I feel like I can trust you.” he said.
“Of course.” I told him, and he lead me to the back of the cemetery and sat down in front of two headstones placed side by side. I say next to him. He never let go of my hand.
“Those are my two best friends, Shayne and Rya.” he said and gripped my hand a bit tighter. “They died in a car crash last year. They were going on two years of being together.” I felt the tears welling up in my throat. “At least they died together.” he said. He must have seen the tears silently rolling down my cheeks, because he pulled me closed to him and wrapped his arms around me.
“It’s okay to cry, Jaime. I won’t judge you.” The tears came rushing down my face and he wiped them away. With his hand, he tilted my head up. I looked at him with tear filled eyes, and without any hesitation, he kissed me. Long but gentle. When he finally pulled away, the tears had stopped. I was shocked. We had met only a couple of hours before, and now, he’s kissed me.
“Can I walk you home?” he asked. I nodded and smiled. He grabbed my hand and we walk back to my neighborhood. We exchange phone numbers, kissed once more, and went back home.
I miss those blue skied days when Angelo and I would just spend an entire afternoon sitting in the park or the cemetery, or walking downtown, just talking about our lives. There was never a moment when neither of us didn’t have something to say.
Once, Angelo brought his notebook and sketch pad with him on one of our many walks. That day, we went to the park downtown, and sat under the gazebo. The entire time we talked, Angelo was either drawing or writing something. At one point I remember asking him what he was drawing, and he said,
“You’ll find out in due time my dear.” He smiled his adorable half smile he had, and continued sketching. It wasn’t until he had gone that I had finally found out what it was he was drawing and writing.
As I began walking in the October breeze, I look up at the sky, blue and covered in clouds. I breathe deeply and catch a hint of Axe in the air, or maybe I imagine it. It smells exactly like Angelo and reminds me of how we could just stand and hold each other for the longest time.
I think back to our first time, or rather his first time with me and my first time ever. Not to say he’d been with a lot of people, I was just a virgin, and he had experience. I remembered how his skin would brush against mine, how his warm breath tickled my neck when he breathed, or how his hands would slowly wander across my entire body. He was extremely cautious with me, trying as hard as he could not to hurt me too much. Every so often, Angelo would stop, look in my pain filled eyes and kiss my neck, instantly making me feel better. I miss those long, passionate nights with him. I wonder if he knows I haven’t been with anyone since he’s been gone, nor do I plan too…
Once I reach the sapphire creek at the back of the woods, I take a single blue rose petal from my pocket, and drop it in the slowly moving water. It drifts gently out and down the creek, under the blue sky, which was now being pierced by the orange light of sunset. I sat down next to the water and lay my face in my hands. Silently, I begin to cry, watching as the tears hit dirt below. I look down at my wrist, at the leather bracelet he gave me for our six month anniversary. Burned into the leather are the words, “Love Is Patient”. I remain sitting for a long time contemplating whether or not I should drop it in the water as well. I choose not to, but instead, I take a small, delicately sharpened knife from my pocket. Slowly and carefully I make a small incision in my wrist, and let it bleed into the water. It’s only a small, painless incision, but the meaning behind it is much greater. The blood mixed with the water slowly, turning it from sapphire blue to scarlet red.
I missed Angelo more than anything or anyone on this planet. He meant everything to me, and even four months after he’s been gone, I still can’t figure out why… If only I could go back and ask him…
I remember that dark day as if it happened just hours ago. It was June and hotter than hell. Angelo drove me to the local frozen yogurt shop. On the way there, he seemed unhappy. When we reached the shop front, he got, and opened my door like the gentleman he was. I grabbed his hand and gave him a concerned look. He just smirked and kissed my forehead. I wondered what was wrong, but pretended not to notice. We sat across from each other not saying a word. Angelo held my hand, slowly stroking it without looking up from his yogurt. We stayed for only a little while until Angelo said,
“Come on, I wanna show you something.” I got up, he held my hand as he always did, and walked me to the car. He opened my door and got in the car. Once we were both in the car and situated, Angelo put in a CD. The only track was a song by A Day To Remember, a song I knew well. It played over and over again until we reached his destination. He let me out and wrapped his arm around me. He lead me out past the trees and the hills to the end of the woods. There in front of us, was the sapphire creek, glistening in the sunset. He sat down and I sat next to him. He held me close and drew light circles on my arm with his finger. I laid down and looked at the now pink sky. He laid his head on my chest and I stroked his hair and rubbed his back until, suddenly, I felt tears dampening my shirt.
“What’s wrong, Angelo?” I asked. He just silently laid a hand on my heart and said,
“My heart will forever be next to yours,” he paused. “Even after I no longer exist.” I began to sit up and he did the same. I wiped the tears from his face and held him close to me.
“I love you, Angelo.” I told him.
“I love you too, Jaime.” he said and continued to hold me.
“We should head back, it’s getting dark.” I said. “Do you want me to drive?” I asked him.
“Yes, please.” Being just as polite to him as he was to me, I opened his door for him. I got out and so did he.
We drove home in silence. When we got to my house, before leaving, Angelo kissed me, long and passionate, as if we’d never see each other again. If only I knew…
That night I woke up with a sharp pain in my chest. I immediately thought, “Angelo!” I rushed down stairs, grabbed my dad’s keys, and got in the car. I was driving ten miles above the speed limit, but I didn’t care, there was something desperately wrong with Angelo. I finally got to his apartment, ran upstairs and opened the door with lightning speed. I searched the apartment for him. I couldn’t find him, and then, I saw the pool of blood seeping into the carpet from the bathroom door. I opened the door and screamed. “No!” I instantly began sobbing. I knelt down beside his blood covered body and held him. I didn’t care that my clothes would be ruined, that it was three in the morning, all I cared about was the fact that Angelo, the boy I loved, was dead. I looked down at his left arm and saw the cut from his wrist to the inner part of his elbow. My tears dropped on his chest. I saw the blood covered knife on the floor next to him. I held him for an hour just crying my heart out. Then I saw the blue rose on the counter. I kissed his cold, dead lips and finally let him go. I called 911 and told them that I’d found him. I waited at his apartment until they got there just hold the rose in my hands. When they arrived they recommended that I go home, so I did.
The next morning his mom, the only person left in his family, brought me his sketch pad, his notebook, and his guitar. I looked through the sketch book. On the page labeled November 21 was a sketch of me sitting under the gazebo, holding a rose with my headphones in. In the notebook on the page labeled with the same date was a poem:
I can still feel you
I feel it all
I feel your lips
On my neck
On my cheek
On my own lips
Soft and cool
They send shivers up my spine
I cannot stand being away from you
I sense you
Your scent on my skin
Your voice in my ears
I hope it never ceases
I hope it never leaves
Your arms still surround me
Filling my body with your love
Creating a sense of protection
The reality of it
It seems too much like a dream
But I know it’s real
So here I am, sitting by the sapphire creek, guitar laying beside me with the poem and sketch in it’s case, picking up the knife yet again. Without any conscious thought, I make the same incision in my forearm as Angelo did on that dark night in June. The creek is turning crimson, but soon it will return to sapphire, but I will remain here, guitar laying beside me with poem and sketch in it’s case, with the blood covered knife still in my cold dead hand