Eternal Love
“Tommy…”
As the clouds broke in the gray November sky, a teenager girl found herself kneeling in front of a gravestone at the town cemetery. It had taken more than a month to muster the courage needed to finally confront her fears, and even now, she wasn’t so sure it had been a good idea. She stared at the gravestone that bore the words:
Tommy Smith
1990-2007
A beloved brother, friend, and son.
Her hair, a golden brown, was pulled back from her face with a headband, and she was sure Tommy was laughing, from wherever he was, at her futile attempts to apply make-up. Her black pants and light pink v-neck shirt were a stark contrast from her usual plain T-shirts and faded jeans. She felt naked without her veil of bangs to hide her tears, and shifted uncomfortably as she tugged at the shirt that hugged her body. Her mom had said it brought out her eyes and pale complexion when she tried it on two months earlier, but she had just rolled her eyes, and secretly planned to hang it up in the back of the closet, so it would only be remembered during one of her mom’s yearly cleaning sprees. She knew she would probably have to wear it at least once before she was allowed to throw it out, but she never imagined it would be under these circumstances.
Tears began to roll down her cheeks as more and more memories flooded her thoughts. She remembered kindergarten when she dared Tommy to cut his hair, and cried when he got in trouble because of her. She could see the determination in his eyes during his attempt to scale the tallest tree in our neighborhood, and could hear the worry in his voice as he cried out when she fell out of the same tree a year later. She could smell the sweetness of his mother’s cookies that were her trademark, and, most of all, she could remember the first time they confessed their feelings.
*****
“Lizzie, do you believe in true love?”
“What do you mean? And since when did you get so deep?”
“I was just thinking. But really, is there such a thing as love?”
“Of course there is!”
“But how do you know?”
“Know what?”
“You know, if you’re in love.”
“That’s easy! You know by the way your skin tingles every time you touch. You know by the way your heart bursts in joy every time the person walks in the room! You know by the way you can think of nothing else but that person, and long with every fiber of your being to be beside them no matter what. You know by the way…”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,”
“Come on!”
“Fine! You know by the way you melt in their every time they hold you, every time you… kiss. Especially when you kiss.”
“And you know this because…”
“I like to read, okay?”
“Oh.” Pause. “You haven’t felt anything like that before?”
“Well, okay, maybe once, but I’ve only read about the kissing thing.”
“You’ve never been kissed?’
“No. I’ve never even had a boyfriend!”
“What about that Mark guy?”
“We only went out for a week. Nothing happened.”
“Oh.”
Silence.
“Lizzie?”
“Yeah?”
“Who was it?”
“Who?”
“You know, the one you felt all those things for.”
“Oh.”
“Who?”.
“You.”
“Lizzie?”
“Yeah?”
“Me too.”*****
She could still feel the linger of his lips on hers.
As she brought her hand up to trace the pattern of her lips on his, her sobs became louder, and she began to sink to the ground. Her voice interrupted the thickening silence.
“When they told me what happened, I didn’t know what to believe,” she began, staring at the ground in front of her. “I mean, you were always the smart one, keeping me out of trouble, making sure I didn’t do anything stupid. You always seemed like my protector, my guardian angel. Now…I don’t know what to believe.”
She stood up, and began pacing. “You always told me, ‘Please be careful,’, ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’, ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’. And now, I can’t help but wonder: did you lie to me? Had…had you been lying to me?”
She paused, stifling back sobs that threatened to crack her voice. When she began to speak again, her voice was a whisper. “How could you, Tommy?” Her sobs broke to the surface finally, and she let them have their way. “HOW COULD YOU?!?!”
She allowed herself to fall back onto the ground, not even caring that her mom would scold her for the grass stains, or that she’d be made to go to some stupid shrink when her mother found out how they appeared there. She just needed to grieve. Grieve the loss of her best friend...the loss of the one person she could trust...the loss of the many years they had planned together...the loss of her rock. She sobbed, her heart pouring out as it had deserved to do a month ago, when she was too afraid of her emotions to know what to do.
Finally the sobs receded to dry chokes, and a small figure could be seen roaming towards her, pausing every now and then to jump over some imaginary log, or curtsy as some imaginary queen. As the figure came closer, Lizzie could see she was a small girl dressed in a patched, but clean, jumper and was carrying a daisy in her hand.
“Hi,” the small girl said once she reached Lizzie. “My name’s Sydney. What’s yours?”
Lizzie, startled by the girls quiet but direct confrontation, paused before answering. “I’m...I’m Lizzie.”
“Hi Lizzie.” Sydney paused, observing the older girl. “Why are you sad?”
“I’m not sad,” Lizzie said, raising her chin in defiance, though she could feel the tear stains on her cheeks. She didn’t want to have to explain the story. It was painful enough to think about it.
“It’s because of them, isn’t it?”
Lizzie did a double take. “Who?”
“The person’s grave you’re on. That’s what everyone seems sad about when they visit here. They’re always crying over someone.” Sydney began to play with her hair, lost in thought.
Lizzie looked down, not wishing to be reminded of her mourning by this...child. “His name is Tommy.”
“What I don’t understand,” Sydney continued, “is why everyone’s still sad. Momma says everyone who’s good goes to Heaven, and everyone who is buried here must be good, cause they have so many people crying over them, and Momma says that everyone who has a lot of people crying over them is a good person. And Tommy seems to have a lot of people crying over him, so that must mean he’s in Heaven, don’t you think?”
“But he’s still gone.” Lizzie spat, not caring about offending the little girl. Sydney was unfazed, however.
“You love him, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“That means you can never be apart. Momma always says that Love means you can never be apart.” Sydney seemed pleased at her explanation.
Lizzie bitterly smiled, still upset that the little girl could talk about Tommy so...so...contently. Sydney studied Lizzie in a way that Lizzie began to wonder if Sydney was older than she appeared.
“Would you like a flower?” Sydney suddenly offered, holding out the yellow daisy she held in her hand. “Momma always says flowers make people feel better after a good cry. Momma also says everyone needs a good cry now and again.”
“She’s a smart woman, your momma,” Lizzie told Sydney after a moment of composure. Maybe what this little girl said was true. Maybe she would see Tommy again. She could only hope....
Lizzie rose from the ground. She took the daisy and placed it behind her ear.
“Do you feel better now?” Sydney asked, her face hopeful, reminding Lizzie of an angel.
She smiled down at the young girl. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”
My only question is how old were they when they were talking about that?? The memories kind of caught me off guard.
