She looked so beautiful even with the mascara continually cascading over her porcelain skin. Her eyes were red from the chronic crying and her hands were shaking as she tried wiping the tears away. But I swear she still looked so beautiful.
I returned my gaze at the road in front. I heard a soft voice from the back said, “To the right.” I smiled at the rear-view mirror and replied, “I know.” In fact, I actually did know. I drove around this place several times when we hang out at her place. But sometimes, I just drove pass by their house and would see if the lights on her bedroom was still on. I would then go because I would realize that it’s extremely creepy and I might scare her.
She tried smiling back but it was orchestrated – like the one she provided everybody at school these past few days. Everyone was convinced, but not me. I asked her insistently what was wrong and she said nothing until this morning, she knocked at our door – sans smile – and told me that Ian broke up with her. We wouldn’t get any privacy at our house; my parents were really nosy. So I fished my car keys and asked her where she wanted to go. She told me that she wanted to go home.
I parked the car in front of their huge house and helped her get out. She told me, on the way, that her parents were out-of-town since three days ago and wouldn’t be back until the next day. I asked her if she had been sleeping by herself. Her face turned red and I knew that Ian had been coming over.
They had an abusive relationship – she and Ian. They would fight and make out and fight again. A normal friend would get tired of cradling a crying girl who would then be gone when her boyfriend came a-knocking, but not me, I didn’t get tired. I was her best friend. Nevertheless, I tried to snap her out of it. I told her that their relationship was downright cruel, but she was busy deciding what to give her boyfriend for their anniversary.
Once inside, she settled on the couch and I stood in front, looking around uninterestedly. She called, “Sit down, will you?”
She hugged me when I sat down. Hot tears flowed down my shoulder but I didn’t care. Her hands were sweaty against my arm but I didn’t care. “Thank you Denise. For everything.” I love my name when she said it.
“Ian is an asshole,” I replied. “You deserve a far better guy than him.”
She let go of me. She looked at me seriously and said, “Will you be my boyfriend?” She stretched her hand towards me. She meant it jokingly; she even smiled at its ridiculousness, but she didn’t retreat.
I grabbed her dangling hand and said, “Yes, I would love to.”
And I knew I mean it.
0 Comments