Part 1: http://idlemindunhinged.blogspot.ca/2013/08/thing-35-how-do-you-feel-about-love.html
Part 2: http://idlemindunhinged.blogspot.ca/2013/08/thing-35-how-do-you-feel-about-love_12.html
Well, this is it: the grand finale. Admittedly I don't remember this part as clearly as I'd like, so I'll have to ad-lib a bit, and I don't think the end result will be as nice as the original, but we have to work with what we've got.
Let's do this.
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Soft footsteps on the apartment's hardwood floors caught my attention as I slid the eggs I'd prepared onto a plate. Alyshia flashed me a small smile as she sat on a stool next to her kitchen's island. She was wearing some loose pajama pants and a great sweatshirt which had to be at least four sizes larger than she needed.
"You're just in time!" With a flourish I set the plate and utensils before her. "I wasn't sure how you liked your bacon, so it's not too crispy, but the eggs came out perfectly. I hope you like it!"
Her laughter put me at ease. She seemed somehow inwardly sad, but my enthusiasm was rubbing off on her, and with my concerns alleviated this was turning into a fairly pleasant morning.
"It looks delicious, thank you." As I leaned back on the counter she craned her neck to peek behind me. "Where's yours?"
"Oh, I'm not much of a breakfast person. I rarely eat in the morning. I do enjoy cooking, though, and after putting me up for the night a meal is the least I could do."
Another smile.
"Fair enough. But," she said, patting the stool next to hers, "at least come sit with me."
I acknowledged her with a slight bow. "As the lady commands."
She waited until I had sat down before digging in to the meal and eliciting the slightest moan of approval. I leaned my forearm on the counter as I watched her eat. "So, tell me about yourself."
The prompt clearly took her off guard. After thinking for a moment she placed her utensils carefully on the plate and crossed her arms in front of her. "What would you like to know?"
"I don't know, whatever you're willing to share," I said with a laugh. "I've told you my life's story, and all I really know about you is that you're pretty and a great listener."
Something about what I'd said made her flinch, but only for a moment. She was quickly able to compose herself as if nothing had happened. I wasn't sure what had been the cause, but I made note of it, just in case.
There was more talking than eating after that. Alyshia regailed me with stories of her family and her childhood; of her hopes and her dreams; of her struggles and her triumphs. By the time she'd finished the small plate over an hour had passed, and my respect for her had grown exponentially.
As she finished her last bite of toast she placed her fork and knife parallel in the center of her plate. "That, sir, was a fine meal." The compliment was made sweeter by the silken laugh that accompanied it. "You'll have to allow me to make it up to you some time."
"Oh, please," I scoffed. "You've already done more than enough. If anything I'm still greatly in your debt. It's not often I get the chance to cook for a beautiful woman."
In an instant, her cheerful demeanor vanished. Her shoulders sagged as she averted her gaze, taking me entirely off guard. I had no idea how to respond. She began to nervously push her fork across the plate as she whispered: "Why do you keep doing that..."
A thousand questions ran through my mind. Had I said something? Done something wrong? I was hesitant to speak, lest I somehow upset her further. "Doing what?"
Time seemed to slow as she turned toward me. It as an eternity before her eyes finally met mine. They seemed to stare right through me, into my soul; endless oceans of despair and doubt. Her teary gaze cast a chain around my heart. "Calling me beautiful."
It was a simple statement, delivered as barely a breath while she fought to keep her tears in check, but it carried the weight of a hammer as it hit me. The words barely registered, their meaning lost on my incredulity.
Is she serious?
"Because I'm honest."
A single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked back at the plate. She shut her eyes tightly, as if trying to hold back the pain I had inadvertantly unleashed. These wounds ran deeper than I could have possibly imagined.
I felt anger burning deep within me. It wasn't fair for so sweet a girl to be wracked by such insidious self doubt. Someone had hurt this girl in ways I did no understand, but I resolved then and there that I would do everything in my power to make it right.
I reached out and retrieved one of her hands in a firm grip. The sudden contact took her by surprise, and she looked first at my hand, and then my resolute gaze.
"Do you trust me?"
She responded with an unsteady nod.
"Good. Close your eyes and come with me."
I stood, and she followed, too shocked to resist. With my free hand I picked up my stool and led her toward the bathroom I had spotted earlier. When we arrived I set the stool in the middle of the room and sat her on it, facing the mirror.
I gave her shivering hand a squeeze of encouragement before positioning myself behind her.
"Now, before you open your eyes, I need you to do something for me. Clear your mind, and forget all of the preconceived notions you have about yourself. I want you to see what I see, and nothing more. Can you do that for me?"
Another unsteady nod.
"Good. now slowly open your eyes."
As she did so her pupils widened in surprise. She sat facing her reflection. I gave her a moment to study her own features. I saw her eyes dart to each in turn, as if seeing them for the first time.
"See what I see. See a girl who is shrouded in unjust sadness. A girl who has been hurt, but has not been broken. A girl with hopes and dreams, and a lifetime to accomplish them. A girl who would take in a man she just met because he cannot find his way home.
"See what I see. See that girl's face. Soft, kind, and scarred with a thousand painful memories. It is a face blessed with smooth skin and a radiant complexion; with strong features and supple lips. It is a face whose smile can make a whole room brighter, and whose frown can bring sorrow to the warmest of days. It is a beautiful thing, and a single expression weaves an epoch of emotion.
"See what I see. See that girl's body, shamefully shrouded in a thick cloak of doubt and apprehension. It is a body that highlights the care and dedication of its patron. It is a perfect collection of sensual hills and valleys culminating in a thing that even the gods can't help but desire.
"See what I see. See that girl's eyes. Piercing blue oceans of emotion. See the pain and the fear within them, but see also the strength, for within those azure orbs is the determination to face each and every day without backing down. They are eyes that can stare into your very soul. They are eyes that unmask your deepest fears and show you that you need not face them alone. One can be lost in the boundless depths of those eyes -- in that sea of hope, longing, and despair.
"I want you to look at this girl and see how beautiful she truly is. See how her features draw you to her and fill you with warmth. See how the kindness of her soul shines through the sadness so that not even the ugliest of emotions can soil her.
"When you are feeling sad, or alone, think of this girl. Of those eyes. Know that she is there with you. she feels what you feel, and she can lend you her boundless strength. Those eyes will follow you to hell and back, fighting at your side on every leg of the journey.
"For that is the most important part. I want you to see that this beautiful, perfect girl -- that kind face, that shapely body, those piercing eyes -- is you."
I gave her hand another encouraging squeeze as I finished. At this point tears were streaming freey down her face. She sat wide-eyed and unblinking, staring intently at the woman in the mirror. Her shoulders shook, wracked with sobs in a torrent of emotion. I stood close to her, holding her hand tightly to reassure her that she was not alone. It was unclear how long we stayed like this, but I was determined to stick with her until she was ready to move on.
All of a sudden the stool she was sitting on went skittering across the tiles of the bathroom as she stood and turned in one quick motion. Before I knew what was happening she had wrapped her arms around me, burying her sobs in my chest. My arms circled her as through choking cries she let out the faintest whisper:
"Thank you."
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