Silent Love Part I

Silent Love

He watches her from afar, the umbrella in his hand as it rained. The raindrops ran down her unprotected face, creating streak of tears. Late afternoon sun peeked out, almost shy and hesitant in breaking the reverie between the two. The clouds were of white hue, the unexpected summer rain. The smell of earth invaded his nostrils, reinvigorating him in body and soul.

Don’t be sad, he thinks to himself as he looks towards her. He just wants to make sure that she will be all right, his final goodbye. Silently he tries to send messages towards her, hoping against hope that she’ll receive them and will understand what he cannot express in words. Don’t be sad, he repeats the message inside, please remember the happy times you and I have had; the time I told you rabbit living on the moon stories, the time I taught you to use chopsticks and how to eat bimbibap.

All this time had passed, countless years, yet I cannot say these words in my heart. I know that you might think I have no feelings for you, but it’s not true. I wish you could understand more of my culture, but you cannot, and there are things that I cannot find words for in your tongue to express.

The present image faded, no longer there in front of him, but instead the history unfolded, how he first came over to a public school, and silent with humiliation of not knowing English. He remembered the strange tongue washing over him, drowning him. Students were all over, talking incessantly, even when the teacher arrived to teach. His culture had not prepared him for American life. Back in his homeland, the students would show more respect towards teacher, more value, but here the teachers were treated like trash.

Despite the silent respect he showed, the teacher came up to him and spoke again in a strange tongue. He tried to form words but could not, the embarrassment of the event taking away the ability to speak the simple words; his name, Shin Seung Hoon.

He looked around helplessly, feeling the slight pain in his palms from clenching his fingers.

The teacher, clearly impatient with him, fired words as rapidly as the falling rain, each raindrop hitting the ground. Once more his eyes studied the classroom, the talking teenagers, girls with dyed hair and way too much makeup on their faces, and the boys dressed as if they got out of bed.

He sees a girl stand up, unusual in appearance among the blonde haired teenagers that are in class. She speaks to the teacher, and the teacher speaks back. He cannot understand either of them.

He stares at the clock, hoping that this day will be over soon, that he can go home to his family, but the clock hands move slowly, a mockery to his desires. The voices die down soon, much to his relief, and he sees the girl sitting down, clenching her hands tightly, her facial expression in anger. The teacher begins to talk again and does not address him at all. He wonders why.

His fingers encircle the pencil, attempting to keep up with the tongue, but unable to. The teacher writes quickly, and erases just as quickly, yet no one complains. A desire to leave grows stronger, the atmosphere nurturing it, causing it to grow more and more with each passing minute.

Loud clanging is heard. He watches the students gather up everything and exit quickly; various discussions blooming all over like the poisonous mushrooms. They cannot be discussing anything about the class, he realizes. He gathers his things as well, standing up, trying to keep things by his side. He is about to walk, to where, he has no idea. He remembers a strange paper that was handed to him and wonders what it could be. He takes it out, noticing the printed words and letters and is more clueless than ever. He tries to remember the English classes he had back in Korea about reading and tries to pronounce the first word he sees, ‘schedule.’ His mouth forms it and then tries to say it unsuccessfully, ‘skeduleh.’

“Hello,” he turns around and sees the unusual girl. Her hands are holding on to the textbooks and he is surprised that no one offered her some help in carrying them. “My name is Therese Fairbanks,” she introduces herself, making sure to say each word slowly. He studies her mouth, the way it forms shapes. He doesn’t try to say anything though, and feels afraid. What if she hears his English and decides to make fun of him or else laughs at his pronunciation? He doubts that he will be able to bear it.

Silence passes, the outside quiets down, the students somewhere else, he assumed, maybe home, maybe not. In Korea, the teachers usually walked from class to class, and the students sat silently at their desks, or else there was a small break for students to do what they desired.

“What is your name?” She asks slowly, extending her hand. He shakes it, enjoying the warmth from it enveloping him. He feels himself calming down, becoming less anxious, less afraid.

“Shin Seung Hoon,” he says. Regretfully he lets go of her hand. The feelings still linger with him though. Still, he makes sure not to show any emotions.

“Nice to meet you. Where is your class?”

He doesn’t know, and doesn’t want to answer. He clutches the schedule, tries to hide it but she spots it quickly. Before he can protest, she grabs it and reads it.

“That’s mine, I don’t want you to see it,” he says.

Puzzled look appears on her face. He wonders why. Hasn’t he spoken correctly?

“What did you say?” She asks.

He grows silent; embarrassed to admit that instead of English he used Korean.

“I can guide you to your next class.” She offers.

He shakes his head. He does not want her doing that. The less dependence he has on her, the better.  

“That class is right next to mine,” she says.

He shakes his head again. He is not used to feeling dependent on someone, especially a girl. “I find it myself.” He protests.

He watches her roll her eyes and continue to stand there. “The teacher asked me to look out after you,” she says.

“You do not need, I take care of myself.”

Before he can protest again, she quickly writes directions, simple letters he notices, and hands him the sheet. “Good luck,” she smiles and quickly leaves.

Time moves rapidly, the first day long gone. Months pass, his native language falling away and scattering like leaves from a tree in the season of autumn, and he is able to understand and feel comfortable within the American culture.

During that time he is careful not to gain friends and is well known as a loner, or, better yet, a lone wolf. Even though American classes are quite easy when comparing them to Korean classes, he still tries to be someone his family could be proud of by taking multiple honor classes and competing within math tournaments, even though he detests math with a passion akin to hatred.

Thinking along those lines, he sits down at a cafeteria table and opens a bag to reveal homemade Kimchi with a silver pair of chopsticks, a flowing form of a dragon handmade. In his bag as well he finds rice. He sighs, disliking his lunch and thinking back to when his family lived back in Korea and his mother made very special lunches for him to eat. The Kimchi itself has grown cold and again he feels frustrated.

The school, as far as he knows, doesn’t allow for students to use microwave, or to leave the cafeteria. Very quickly he eats his lunch and brings out a book he is reading at the moment. “Do you always eat alone?” He finds himself dropping the book, losing his place and cursing himself silently. He looks up and sees Therese Fairbanks standing across from him, her eyes wide and a closed lipped smile spreads across that face.

“Yes,” he replies, attempting to keep his anger in check. If there is something he detests in life, it is unexpected surprises. And having her standing across from him, the girl he has avoided for a whole school year on purpose, is an unexpected surprise.

“Why? Isn’t it more fun to talk with friends rather than sitting alone like a fool?”

“I am not a fool,” he says the words in the clipped language, anger coloring it. His cheeks start burning. He dislikes displaying emotions because others can take advantage of them, no matter how malignant or benign the intentions.

“If you aren’t, then may I eat lunch with you?”Again, unexpected words and a surprise. He wishes that lunchtime would be over already, that the whole day will be over so he will no longer have to see her.

“What of your friends?” He begins to stall, desperately hoping the bell will ring soon.

“They all have different lunch period than I,” she explains. “I don’t know anyone here but you.”

Grudgingly he scoots over, picking up the book and quickly placing it with his other textbooks. Much to his annoyance, she begins to talk of superficial things, clothes, makeup, and the latest movie she saw with her friends. He remains silent, hoping that she’ll get the message and leave, or else stop talking. He doesn’t respond unless spoken to. Unable to tolerate the superficial gossip, he stops her. “In Korea, I hear American girls have brains of bubble. Very true,” he admits.

Much to his relief she shuts up about superficial conversation. “How dare you say that,” she says. “You don’t know anything about me and you say such a thing?”

“Talk of something smart,” he tells her. “Prove me wrong.”

He wonders if she’ll leave now. He basically insulted her, called her an idiot, and stubbornly she continued to stay. Part of him admired her stubbornness, while another part abhorred it. “Very well,” she said as she bit her lips. “What do you want to talk about?”

He didn’t expect that challenge. Both began to discuss the latest literature. His earlier opinion of her turned around, became more of a positive force than before. The minutes passed quickly like sand in the hourglass. Very soon the top became empty and the bottom full. The lunch bell clanged, the reverie broken. Heaviness settled inside of him as he quickly stashed away the chopsticks back into the bag along with various containers that contained his food. He glances at her face, seeing sadness.

He stands, uncertain of what to say as the cafeteria empties out of students, the hive of the bees growing farther and farther away. He feels relief that, for a brief time there is silence. She moves slightly, her fingers clasping the lunchbox, bringing it closely to her body.

Somehow he sees the loathing in her eyes, and knows it’s because she doesn’t want to leave him. “Will you be okay?” She asks. “If you need help finding a class, I can help you.”

“It is okay,” he says, still struggling with pronunciation, each word becoming difficult. “I can find it by myself.”

It is just the two of them, alone within the cafeteria. The bell will ring soon, he realizes. He doesn’t want to be late, and so he says goodbye as he goes to his class, wondering if he will see her for the rest of year.

That was how it began, he remembers. From that simple lunch. But their friendship continued to progress.

Few months later, as they ate lunch, she began to discuss the curse of intelligence. “I have to hide it here,” she says as she takes a bite from the cherry tomato from her chicken Caesar salad. “I have to pretend something I’m not. Intelligence is a curse here. No one understands you and if you are smart, you become a pariah or people stereotype you as a nerd, which could mean a social death sentence.” He is surprised by her words. In truth he enjoys her intelligence, although he would not admit to anyone, and felt saddened that she had to hide the best part of her.

He wants to tell her that she doesn’t have to hide herself, but turns away before showing any emotions.

“The girls I hang out with, they are shallow. They enjoy reading mindless entertainment and dream of being with bad boys.” He continues to be turned away from her, trying to gather all the emotions into one place, to be hidden away and never revealed. “I feel that I cannot show them my true self.”

He remains silent, picking up Kimchi with his chopsticks, watching the food becoming like a waterfall. He wonders if she wants him to say something, to reassure her that he feels the same way. Although it is true, that he has showed her more of his self than to anyone else, he has no desire to say it. He brings the chopsticks to his mouth, swallowing the Kimchi, feeling the spicy taste mixed in with sauerkraut. He feels her eyes stare at him as she asks a question he hopes she wouldn’t ask and just forget about it.

“What about you? Do you have someone you can show yourself to? Your true self?”

How to answer her, he wonders. Tightness squeezes him, his heart begins to pound faster as his foot taps on the floor, but on the outside he tries to bring semblance of control to himself so she wouldn’t suspect anything. How can he tell her that he refuses to show his true self to anyone but his family? She will be hurt if he says only to his family, that he can see, but if he says only to her, although it will make her happy, he will be afraid of leading her on, of giving her a wrong impression of himself, that he is ready for something he knows he is not. Instead, he has to switch the subject. “Would you like to try Kimchi?” He asks, hoping that will deter her.

He finally turns towards her, watching her surprised expression. “What?” She says. She shakes her head and closes her eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Try Kimchi?” She asks, her eyebrows are high, her eyes crinkled at the corners in puzzlement.

“Yes,” he says. “Very healthy. I will teach you to use chopsticks; you can eat and see if you like it.”

He demonstrates how to use chopsticks, putting them between the thumb and main finger, one higher than the other. She quickly copies him with mixed results, looking embarrassed as the chopsticks fell against the brown lunch table. “Oops,” she says as she blushes. “My fingers are kind of clumsy.”  He scoots closer to her, this time his fingers around hers as he positions chopsticks into her hand, watching with pride as she grabbed hold of the Kimchi and put it in her mouth. “This is yummy,” she says as she looks up to him.

He smiles a little as he returns to his food, carefully eating it, wondering if the bell will ring soon. She is learning, he realizes. She at least is gaining understanding that some things are better left unsaid instead of said. Some things you have to keep inside of you, and never allow them to see the light of day.

A group of girls catch his eye as they approach his table. Therese’s friends, he realizes, surprised at the fact he had to part from her. “Like, hello Tessa,” he hears a girl say. “Long time no see.”

Her expression darkens slightly as she drops the chopsticks, the food splattering over the table. When surprised, he recalls, she is often physically clumsy. He gets up to pick the paper towels and wipes away the food as he overhears the girls talk.

“Hello Mary,” Therese says calmly. “I thought you had a different lunch period?”

“We asked to be switched over,” Mary replies. “Like we couldn’t stand being without you, so our lunch was switched.”

The girls began to talk about a latest movie they watched. The magic is gone, he realizes as he calmly throws away the paper towel. She is no longer herself but someone else.

He gathers up his things and walks away without saying goodbye, seeing the girls talk superficially.

Years pass since that fateful day, and he remembers when they are seventeen, the day he learned to drive a car and pick her up.

The final bell tolled as he quickly exited through the door to his car. Therese wasn’t feeling well that well that day, but he still decided to pick her up, for tonight there will be a full moon and he could see an old man and rabbits dancing on the moon, their images clear. As a child he often dreamt of being with them and sometimes during those years always made sure to have carrots in his bedroom in case he might see the rabbits.

Against her protests that she is still not feeling well, he drove with her into the forest, and they watched the day turn to night. Superstitiously he packs the carrots with him, in case if he sees the rabbits, and the two get out of the car. He points out the moon and gets out carrots without realizing that she is present. Feeling embarrassed he turns away from her, but she does not laugh and instead is curious about it. He begins to tell her the folktales, and of the cleverness of the rabbits. She listens and doesn’t interrupt much to his relief. She also stares at the moon as he asks her what she sees. She doesn’t see the rabbit but sees an old man.

He doesn’t reveal to her his habit of having carrots in his room in case he might dream of being with the old man and the rabbits. He wants to but cannot find the words to explain or to tell her, even if she does give an opportunity to tell her about it. “It is getting late,” he reminds her. “I should drop you off.”

She stands up and dusts off her skirt, hurt and surprise marring her features. “Why?” She asks. He wonders what she might be feeling or thinking but decides not to ask. The less he knows the better it is. In truth, he is not bored, but he is concerned about what her family might think of him, or vice versa, what his family might think if he stays out with a girl in the night. He might get scolded for not focusing enough on academic matters.

“It is a school night,” he reminds her in careful English. “I do not want for your grades to suffer.”

“You are not my father,” she retorts as she sits down inside the car. “Who are you to tell me about my grades? If they suffer, let them suffer, but I want to stay outside.” He sighs, gathering up his patience. He doesn’t want to talk the American way, does not want to say anything straight out. Why can’t she understand that it’s not the grades but the reputation that he is concerned about?

He sits down beside her, throwing glances her way. She is a proud person, he realizes. Outspoken, brash sometimes and always lets anger color her easily. Instead of saying a word or apologizing, he starts the car and tells her to buckle up. Reluctantly she complies, sighing and giving him dirty looks. Then he drives off carefully, making sure to watch out for cars and pedestrians or an occasional bicycler who might be wearing dark clothes. Finally they are right by her house, and she gets out, leaving him without saying a goodbye.

As his culture taught him, he learned early to pretend that nothing happened, and to act as if he would on any other day. He doesn’t discuss the issues with her, preferring to, instead, keep harmony. Therese already adjusted to that as well and also pretends that nothing occurred.

Slowly, even with blocks along the way, the two of them move forward to becoming more than friends, until that fateful day before the start of their senior prom.

It was May, the rain pouring steadily down, soaking the granite, the splattering heard everywhere. He is dressed in a black tuxedo, a small bowtie around his neck, and in his hands he carries a corsage. His parents are nearby, taking pictures of him, proud of his status, of his scholastic achievements. His father walks over then, and whispers into his ear. He remembers the father’s words, what he will do after the graduation.

He checks the corsage, noticing the crimson rose in the center, surrounded by baby’s breath, an island in the center of an ocean. His parents do not know about Therese, for it is customary not talk about a woman unless there is intention of marriage. His mother is dressed in traditional Korean dress for the honor and takes pictures of him. He hides the corsage, but his younger brother spots it. “What’s that?” He moves over, his fingers getting it out.

He says it is nothing as his fingers tightens over it.

His parents come over then and spot the wrist corsage. “A nice Korean girl, right?” His mother asks as she smiles. He walks away, hoping that they will forget about it. “How come you hadn’t told us?” She asks.

He does not want to tell them that it happens to be an American girl and not a Korean girl. His mother’s family suffered under the American control. “Ah, my apologies,” he says smoothly.

“I should meet her,” his mother continues as she takes a picture of him. She motions for the younger brother to get into the picture as well. “It’s good that you are sticking to Korean girls. I am proud of you. Aigoo, I have heard so many horror stories from the church members about their sons dating American girls, you wouldn’t believe. None of the relationships worked out however, and at least now the sons know better and are dating Korean girls.” Despite the feeling that a ship was sinking inside his heart, he stood beside his brother, smiling.

Very soon he went inside his car, carefully placing the corsage on the front seat so it will not get rumpled. He hopes Therese will like it. He hears rain in the background, pounding against his windows, sees the dark gray skies with endless rain, the streetlights begin to shine faintly, their light in waves when compare it to the incessant rain. His favorite weather though. The two of them agreed to dine in a romantic restaurant and then travel to the prom. He has tried to make it romantic to the best of his ability, but due to his schedule was unable to. She wouldn’t have a limo picking her up. The restaurant and corsage is the best he can do. She will pay for the tickets to go inside.

He stops by her house and honks the car, waiting for her to come out. He wonders if she will remember the umbrella and then decides no, she will not remember it. He gets the umbrella out and walks up to her house, ringing the doorbell, hoping that no one besides Therese will open the door. Much to his dismay, an older woman opens the door, staring at him curiously. She is tall, almost as tall as Therese, with a lined face and a mass of curly light brown hair. She brushes her hair away from her eyes and stares at him curiously. “And you are?” She says without preamble. He clutches the umbrella tightly, the drops becoming tiny waterfalls. He does not want to tell this woman of himself, for she might know his family and if it should be spread around that he is here, his family will be ashamed of him.

“I am a friend of Therese,” he tells her.

“Hmm,” she says, studying him. “For someone who’s from China you’re not that bad looking.”

He doesn’t reply. He is used to people thinking he is either from China or Japan, or else assuming he is from there. He stopped trying to explain to others where he is truly from.

“Hmm,” she says again. “I’ll go get Therese.” She shouts Therese’s name loudly and he sees her enter the room, wearing a crimson red dress that exposed her shoulders, a silk shawl the color that matched the gown was wrapped around arms, tiny flowers sewn in. Her hair was piled up, red rosebuds protruding from the curls. In a word, she is breathtaking.

She greets him with a smile and a wave of her hand as he places corsage on her wrist, carefully checking to make sure that it is not too tight or too lose. He does not meet her eyes, does not want for her to see his emotions inside. “It is still raining,” he says as he lets go of her wrist and picks up the tossed away umbrella. “I will walk you to the car.” He checks to make sure that she will not get wet and the two walk towards his car.

“I like this weather,” she says. “I often fantasized about romance on those days.” She chuckles.

Despite himself, he asks what kind of romance.

“Being in a restaurant as classical music plays, eating expensive dishes, getting an unexpected proposal.”

He does not say anything as he opens the car door and she gets inside. He gets into the driver’s seat and they drive away towards an expensive Korean restaurant that he reserved.

While driving, he calls the restaurant and orders bibimbap. She is sitting beside him, staring outside. The sun peeks out slightly, the dark clouds still on the horizon. He wonders if there might be a rainbow. “Have you ever eaten bibimbap?” He asks her, concentrating on the road.

“No. What’s that?” He hears shuffling from her side and sees her looking at him. “It has a cute name.”

“It is a Korean dish,” he begins to explain. “There are lots of vegetables inside, along with chili pepper and a raw egg and some meat as add-ons. Long time ago, the dish was for emperors.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“This dish, you mix it with chopsticks then eat it with spoon. Do not worry,” he tries to reassure her. “I will show you.”

It stopped raining as the sun peaked out as both saw a rainbow floating across the sky, the arc composed of violet, blue, then finally the bright colors of green yellow and red. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers. He turns towards her, noticing the arms crossing her chest. Tears begin to accumulate, dropping down on the dress, dark marks against the red color. “I hadn’t seen one since I was a little girl.” Carefully he parks the car, extracting the keys. Neither makes a move to leave though.

“We are here,” he reminds her.

“Please, let’s go in when the rainbow is no longer seen.” 

“It may take a while.” He is eager to go inside, for the prom will start soon. Unlike her, once he sticks to a plan he does not deter from it and becomes stubborn to changes.

He exits from the car quickly, and moves to her door, opening it. Her eyes focus on his as her hand reaches out for his. He clasps it gently as she leaves her seat, her other hand brushing off the dress. From her hand he feels warmth encompassing his, and surprisingly, he senses a rapid heartbeat. Never before had he felt it from someone, much less from her.

In response, he feels his heart starts beating quickly as he moves her close to him, his body desiring to taste her lips, to give her the taste of himself. He finds himself throwing away the rules, if for a brief moment as his lips seek hers out. He senses her surprise and then he tastes mint from her breath as the breathing quickens for both of them. She stays in his arms for what seems like a long time, and reluctantly he lets her go.

Her eyes are wide; her lips are parted in shock. He turns away from her, the flush heating his cheeks. Inside of himself, he mutters in Korean, “Nae Saranghe,” the words he cannot say to her. Instead he collects himself and the two walk inside. He does not speak of what happened outside.

They are seated quickly, on the opposite side of each other. To his relief, she begins the conversation. Within the restaurant he hears The Classic soundtrack.

“Has anyone told you about the rainbow?” She asks innocently.

He shakes his head.

“There is this story of Noah and the ship. Noah was a righteous man among the bad ones. God was angry at the world and eventually flooded it. He spared Noah and his family though, and they lived in a ship. When they finally emerged from the ship, God set a rainbow in the sky, saying that this promise that He’ll never flood the earth again.”

“Interesting story,” he says. They continue to wait for bibimbap to arrive. He taps his foot impatiently, remembering the movie he had seen. He decides to tell her about the movie. “The music from a movie called Classic.” He says.

“I never heard of it.” The waiter then showed up with their water. She opens up the straw and begins to sip it noiselessly.

“It’s a Korean movie,” he explains. “It starts with a girl liking a guy, but she has friend who likes him too. The friend asks the girl’s help to write letters, and the girl agrees. They begin to write letters, and soon the girl discovers the story about her mother, how the mother falls in love with one guy while being engaged to another.” He stops, unwilling to spoil the movie anymore for her.

“How does the movie end?” She asks after a long pause.

“I will not tell you,” he says. “I want you to see it yourself.”

The food arrives by then. He showed her how to eat bibimbap, how to mix the red pepper and egg together with chopsticks, and then used his spoon to eat the food. She followed his suit. He sees that she likes bibimbap and feels relived. She starts to talk again.

“Would you like to make a promise?” She asks him.

He places his chopsticks on the table, surprised by her words. A promise? What does she mean? “What kind of promise,” he asks cautiously, his fingers remain near the chopsticks.

She places her chin on top of her hands, the chopsticks still in her slender fingers. “We will graduate soon,” she reminds him.

He nods his head in response, wondering where she is leading up to.

“I think,” she pauses as he sees her inhaling inside. She places her hands on her knees and her eyes look down. “I think,” she begins again. “I think I’d like to be your girlfriend.” This time he no longer sees her face. That was not something he expected. He expected for her to ask him about keeping touch together or something of the kind. But not a girlfriend.

“How is this a promise?” He asks calmly, calculating and wondering if there is something he should do or how to switch the topic from a girlfriend to something more favorable.

She clutches her chopsticks tightly, her fingers white from lack of blood. “Just promise me that I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He panics inside then. A girlfriend, his mind echoes over and over. Not something he could escape from. He wants for her to be his girlfriend, but not now, not when his parents are thinking and encouraging him to date a Korean girl, not with his future being the way it is, a future leader of a special organization. Not when there is a very real possibility of him being killed. He realizes then that much to his chagrin, the magic of the day has flown away. He no longer wants to go to the prom. He remains silent, thinking the situation over, carefully considering the options.

“Will you wait for me?” He asks as he begins to eat again.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“Wait five years before I say yes or no.”

“Why five years? Why not now?”

He finds himself no longer able to face her. He turns his head away from hers, feeling her eyes on his face. “There are things I need to do, things I need to prepare for. I cannot have a girlfriend now, it might ruin my life.”

“What things?” She asks.

“I cannot tell you,” he says. “Please wait.”

Afterwards she told him she didn’t want to go to the prom and so he took her home. He saw the tears flowing down her cheeks as she rang her own doorbell and ran inside when the door was opened. He drove home.

Few weeks passed until he graduated and then his job began. His father gave him the airplane ticket and he called Therese at the last minute, asking her to meet him at a restaurant for a final goodbye. During that time he contemplates on whether or not to tell his family about Therese and finally decides to tell them. Understandably they were angry and upset, his mother in particular reminded him of the atrocious acts the Americans have done against her own family. Despite their disappointment in his decision for a mate, he is still needed by them. “You will continue to work here,” his father tells him, “but you no longer will have us as your family unless you agree to break up with the girl.”

Even if the pain in his heart was great and he disliked the decision forced upon him, he told them that he will not break up with Therese. Instantly he was kicked out of the house, carrying clothes on his back. His father placed him in a more dangerous position than before and if he survived the next five years then he might return and claim Therese as his own.

With a heavy heart he returns to the much pressing present and no longer sees those happy times inside his mind. Instead, the present becomes more visible as he feels tears pour down his cheeks, mixing in with the rain, adding in the saltiness. His memories gather up together like a pile of leaves, each one unique and special, different emotion colored in, and he hopes that should they fly away, every single one will return to her so she could put them in a scrapbook and look at them each time she feels sad, and soon he watches as she gets up and walks away, her form and shadow fading into others, no longer standing out. He himself gets up and walks away to his destiny, wondering if he will see her again as behind them a rainbow begins to appear within the gray clouded yet at the same time clear sky.