He was at her house again.
His hands sagging by his sides, he was lonely and he needed to talk. He came in as usual with pain in his eyes as they squinted to hold back the tears he was trying so hard to. She understood how he was always trying to be a hero. In the midst of his own troubles and others, she knew when he got like this.
Desperately seating on the couch, the comfort was alarming. On this same couch he had told her all his problems. On this same couch he had cried on her shoulders. She had listened. He hadn’t expected to feel better so soon. He was grateful. He needed to talk again, so as she sat down next to him, he told her about love and its many disappointments. She listened and nodded her head. She understood. She always did.
Down the river, there was a place where the broken-hearted could find love. Where the wary could find peace because they would know if love was going to happen to them or not. It was better knowing. It was a magical place where sounds of angels singing lingered in the air. The smell of life was suffocating as the trees who moved right and left, lived on for many years to show those that came; that to love was to live.
They rowed together, paddling with caution. Out in the mid-stream, there was a clear and narrow path that faintly reflected the sky. They rode facing each other through dark alleys, noisy towns telling of a busy population. They spoke with caution only saying the most important things (they were afraid they would jinx everything if they spoke too much). They both listened intently for the beautiful sound of love. They were almost there as the air was changing its smell from the smell of swine and grief to the smell of love and peace. So they rode on, with strength, promising themselves with their eyes that they would never give up even with the tiny waves that were gradually weakening their arms as they rode. So they rode on as they began to see surfaces, the soft ground widespread and the quiet gardens backlit with a purple light edged with an ethereal yellow far away in the horizon. The river became calm and washed clean of misery and terror the night brought along with it presenting the clearest of water, separating itself from the real world. The difference was tremendous. While the moon, all along was there, did what she could to bring them here, she waited as they stood in awe. She waited as she heard them talk.
The patient moon listened as the girl told the boy how she felt about him all along. She was happy in this place. She knew not where this courage suddenly came from, but she liked it and she went with it. She told him how he had been chasing shadows. His heart was longing for something good and what he was looking for was closer than he thought. She was literally a few feet away from where he was standing. She said she was fed up of taking numbers and waiting, tired of letting him cry on her shoulders, tired of giving him advice. She wanted to be the reason he waited. She wanted to be the one he would call first thing in the morning. She wanted to be the reason he would cry because she brought tears to his eyes. She wanted to be his Saturday nights and his Sunday mornings.
The moon watched as the confused look on the boy’s face said it all. The girl had stopped talking after telling him her feelings but he was too possessed to listen and understand. He thought about the love he came here to find and never in his wildest dreams would he have thought it would be her. He wanted the girls in the movies. The perfect body in the magazines. He wanted all the superficial things that could only give him temporary satisfactions. He looked at his friend not knowing what to tell her. He loved her as a friend and as a matter of fact, her recent revelation was ruining the reason for the journey he had heard so much about. So he walked away, attempting to refocus. She had told him her feelings and he was too possessed to listen and understand.
They walked through the long neat paths distanced by tall trees with many branches shielding the place from any harm. They could hear the beautiful noise again so beautiful and strange and new that it had roused a longing for both of them but not for each other. The boy could hear only faintly now. Love was not to be found for him. So as they walked on, avoiding each other’s eyes, the noise passed on for a while until it was finally lost. They knew it was time to go home. So the moon, disappointed from all that had happened witnessed yet another failure. Beaming with yellow light, the moon resumed her duty. Serene and detached in the cloudless sky, the moon did what she could to help the distraught find their way home.
They eventually got back without any trouble at all. He said he had to go. She said it was late. He said he didn’t mind leaving. At one time, she would have insisted . At one time he would have given in but now was different. They both knew things would never be the same . He was partly annoyed with her that she may have ruined his chance of finding love. She was partly annoyed with herself she even said anything at all. So he left and she carried on to her house and on that couch she decided she wouldn’t wait around for him forever. She remembered the sweet enchanting odorous and the deliberate smell of hope that was so strong despite what had become. She was convinced that the shy reserved magical place still full of significance had a solemn expectancy hidden somewhere for her and she was going to find it. In her persevering heart, she decided she would ride on the boat the next day, back to the magical place where they said love was found and then try again.