Letters Written in White (22 page)

Copyright 2015 by Sarah Dosher

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

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I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,

And the river flows like a stream of glass;

When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,

And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—

I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing

Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;

For he must fly back to his perch and cling

When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;

And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars

And they pulse again with a keener sting—

I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,

When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—

When he beats his bars and he would be free;

It is not a carol of joy or glee,

But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,

But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—

I know why the caged bird sings!

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Eyes are the window

T
he first day I saw you was like any other day, but I knew my life had changed. I could feel it in the pounding of my heart and the quivers that ran up my spine, inside I’d never be the same.

Long and lean, I thought your body was a perfect mix of youth and experience. So did every other female that crossed your path; I saw them as their eyes lingered just a little too long. Your hips were resting against the corner of the broken and worn table in the food court. I was there awaiting my release for good behavior from the slummy job my parents made me take and you were the first interesting thing I’d seen all summer. You were holding a clear plastic cup from some nearby eatery that had been handing out samples of their most recent flavored water concoction. I watched with bated breath as your lips lightly touched the rim of the cup and you swallowed in one huge gulp. I could almost see the trail of cool liquid as it chilled you all the way to your toes. You crunched the cup and did your best impression of a buzzer-beating hook shot right into a trash bin on the other side of the table. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up as you celebrated your two points. My fingers curled under and pressed tightly into my tender palms to keep from cheering you on, I wanted nothing more than to be included in your show of joy.

You lazily took in the surroundings, your eyes finally landing on me and then never wavering. Icy blue eyes pierced through me like a predator who had caught scent of his prey. It unnerved me, made every ounce of air in my lungs flee in one quick whoosh. I told myself that blue eyes were my favorite, since a child I’d always thought they were the most trusting of eyes. A clear escape into pure honesty is how they’d always felt to me. Yet, with one look your eyes begged for something from me, something I didn’t understand. Your eyes confused me, filled me with calmness and jitters all at the same time. A loud scream from a rowdy mall shopper drew my attention; I turned for a single second and when I looked back, you were gone. I wondered if I’d ever see you again, I already longed to see you again.

All it took was one, simple glance and I was already hooked. I thought about you nonstop from then on, always dreaming about what your voice might sound like, what your name was, what you smelled like, even how soft your skin would feel against my cheek. Didn’t take long for my yearning teenage mind to form you into the man of my dreams - all from one fleeting look.

From that day on you kept appearing, always on the outskirts of my vision, but always present. A constant figure that lingered around me at all times but never coming close enough for my wayward satisfaction. I grew accustom to your presence, even wished for it. Which I’m sure was part of your well laid out plan. At the time, my immature heart thought it was fate, but it was just you, wasn’t it? Every time my day was going bad, there you were to console me with a simple smile or some other menial gesture that made my heart flutter. You never spoke a word; you didn’t need anything besides your sly presence to draw me in.

It’s a dangerous thing, when someone sees you, truly sees you for how you wish you were. That’s what I felt in you and your constant nearness; always close enough we felt each other’s presence. Eyes trading glances back and forth, doing a dance I didn’t understand but was innate within me. I didn’t know you and you didn’t know me, which gave us both an escape into the perfection we saw in each other.

Finally, you struck when you knew I’d be at my most vulnerable. When you knew you had my mental infatuation exactly where you needed it. During my dinner break from work I settled on a personal pepperoni and black olive pizza from the food court and then found an empty table in the warmth of the outdoors, far away from all the mall traffic. I knew you were there; I’d seen you several times that day and I hoped against hope that you’d finally approach me.

I could feel you before I saw you; the hair on the back of my neck bristled with every breath you took. My heart pounded, forcefully trying to escape the lonely confines of my hollow chest. Your footsteps finally made crunching sounds in the dead grass surrounding the table and I knew you were upon me. The first thing I saw were your blue eyes glowing with reflections of the moonbeams in the late summer sky. Neither of us said a word, I was frozen with pizza half way to my mouth and you just stood there smiling. I don’t know how many minutes passed but it seemed like a lifetime before the strangest thing occurred, the awkwardness surrounding us slowly weakened. I’d never experienced that before, an uneasy silence growing comfortable all by itself.

You held out a drink for me to take but I hesitated and felt my brow crinkle. “You forgot it,” you said and your voice was calm, airy, and felt like velvet to my ears.

“I forgot?” I puzzled.

You pointed back inside toward the food court. “Left it sitting on the counter.”

I looked down at everything I’d brought to the table with me: my pizza, the plate, and the napkins. No drink. I laughed too loud at my silliness and looked back to you just in time to see you blink rapidly as an uneasy nervousness spread across your handsome face. But as my boisterous laugh faded, your smile returned. At that time I didn’t linger on the reasons why my laugh would cause discomfort in you although I’m positive I should have.

“May I?” you asked, and gestured toward the empty chair next to me. I hesitated but you’d expected as much. Your hand reached to my face but paused to see if I would shy away from it—I didn’t, I longed to see what you would do. Rough fingers skimmed across my skin, trailing from my earlobe to the center of my chin. “It’s okay. I don’t bite … hard,” you joked and gave me your best non-predatory smirk that probably would have sent most girls running for the hills, but instead it made my heart leap. The warmth of your hand left my face and my skin screamed in protest at its loss.

You tilted your head back the way you’d came. “If you want, I can just leave you alone.”

Your blue eyes squinted with sadness. For the first time you looked normal, not like the dream man I’d seen for so long. Your façade of perfection started to break and I could see the weariness appear on every inch of your body. You still didn’t look like anyone else I’d ever known, you were so handsome with a perfect disguise. The mask you wore gave the illusion you wanted everyone to buy, just like I had. From the top of your head, where not a single hair was out of place, to the crisp linen shirt you paired seamlessly with pressed khakis. You showed everyone the person you wanted them to see. But for a mere moment I thought I saw the real you. The creases from worried anguish clearly etched in your brow and bright eyes that held dark secrets. The juxtaposition should have sent my naïve heart running, but it did the opposite, it pulled me in even tighter.

“You just got here.” I spoke timidly, almost as afraid you’d stay and see the real me as I was you’d leave and I’d never see you again.

“Right choice.” You winked, as your façade moved effortlessly back into place. “Stay it is.”

I inhaled deeply, counting as it took you three of my anxious breaths to walk around the table and sit beside me. You immediately moved so close I could feel the warmth of your body penetrate mine and I longed to lean closer, feel it deeper.

“The nights are so much better, it’s too hot in the day.” You spoke without a care in the world, like by my side was where you’d always been.

I glanced at you from the corner of my eye, afraid that if I looked at you straight on you’d disappear. You were beautiful. Your lips looked full and soft; I wondered what they felt like. There was a small, white scar under your left eye that added to your air of mystery. The planes of your face were rugged and you were older than I’d thought, maybe too old to be sitting under the night sky with someone my age.

“The stars are so clear, beautiful,” I said as I tore my gaze from you and looked upward.

“Not the most beautiful thing out here though,” you said, and moved your hand to rest on the knee of my crossed legs. A forward move I hadn’t anticipated

Heat of embarrassment rushed over me, so hot I was surprised we both weren’t sweating. Finally the warning bells that should have already been going off started to softly sound in my head in response to your intimate touch. But another part of myself, the one that wanted your touch, chose to ignore their ringing.

“Why are you out here all alone?” you asked pulling me from my mounting unease.

“I don’t really know,” I said, still watching your hand as it rested so certainly on my leg. “I like it outside after the sun has gone down and it’s not so hot. And I wanted to get away from all those people in there, I wanted to be alone. I wanted...” I let my sentence trail off, I was about to admit I was hoping you’d find me so we could be alone. But I couldn’t admit that to you. You made me feel alive, mature. What if you found out I wasn’t and how much I thought about you?

“You wanted what?” you questioned urgently, as your fingers pushed into my leg, causing me to flinch. Those warning bells resonated as fear pressed to the surface. Our encounter seemed off, you seemed off—not how I’d pictured, and I was afraid it was my fault. I feared maybe I wasn’t what you’d envisioned either.

I shook my head quickly. “I wanted to be alone … with you.” My words were barely a whisper dancing across the cool night breeze and I hoped you had heard them before they blew away. I hoped you’d believed them and that they pleased you.

You ducked your head timidly and slowly pulled your hand from its resting place. “You’d rather be with me? Over of all the other people here tonight?”

My heart jumped but I didn’t speak.

“Somewhere cool like it is right now? Or even better, how about someplace really cold?” you asked, as you tilted your head up to the sky and closed your eyes like you could feel the chill on your face already.

“Sure, I’d love that. I’ve never really been anywhere but here and I’ve always wanted to be around snow. There’s never any here. Maybe once or twice a year, but it’s never much. We did go snow skiing when I was young, but I barely remember it.” I could feel myself getting flustered the more and more I talked, I wanted to shut up but for some reason my mouth just kept moving. The thought that you wanted to run away with me, to be alone with me and only me had a dizzying effect on my whole body. I curled my lips under the edges of my teeth and bit down so hard a faint metallic taste spread across my tongue. “Have you been around a lot of snow?” I finally blurted out hoping to stop my assault of words.

“I have, all the time,” you answered calmly and subdue in comparison to my blathering.

“Are you from somewhere cold?” I asked, knowing it was none of my business.

“I am,” you said. “Maybe you should just come home with me.”

I laughed. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“And if you did?” You raised your eyebrows at me and I felt a rush shoot clear to my toes.

“Well, then maybe … you know, I, if only …” I stuttered, and then wanted to slap myself for sounding like a stupid child again.

“Eat, drink,” you finally demanded.

I did, chewing quietly, praying you wouldn’t hear me but I only took a few more bites before moving the plate to the side and out of reach. You moved my drink where my plate had been and gave me a wink. Finally taking what had brought you to my table, I took a long drink from the cup that was no covered with condensation. Little droplets of water dripped off and landed on my lap, both of our eyes turned down to follow them and then moved back to each other. Your eyes watched me intently, flickering back and forth from my mouth to my eyes before finally tearing away from my stare. I thought it was a moment of shyness as you were overcome with me.