I was 10 when I met an angel, all blond haired and green eyed wonder. You were more beautiful than what mom described. Fragile and graceful, exuberant and lively, I couldn’t help but fall for you. And then out of all the places to sit, you chose to sit besides me! I was so happy and dazed by your beauty. Now, I was a very shy kid with no friends, I spent all my free time in the music room of my school, playing piano; I was pretty good at it and my mom was teaching me complex pieces at home, I was used to playing in silence; imagine my surprise when at the end of my piece I heard a quite sniffle; I turned around and there you were, red eyed and holding back tears. I was bewildered. “Oh, I didn’t want you to stop playing. It was just so beautiful. I, um I should probably go.”
You said. No, I did not want you to go; flustered I shaked my head vigorously, urging you to stay with my eyes. Hesitantly you came near me and I patted the seat on the piano bench next to me shyly.
“You don’t speak much do you ?” You giggled, and I swear there is nothing as cute as that happy giggle. Rumagging in my backpack I dug out a sketchbook and pen, you looked so confused and adorable; very hesitantly I opened it and began to write and pushed it towards you, awaiting your reaction.
‘Yes I don’t speak much because I can’t speak’ I had written.
You gasped and looked at me; and for the first time I did not see pity in anyone’s eyes after I told them.
You looked at me for long; “That’s okay, I am not such a good listener.” You said and I burst out in throaty laughs. You were so adorable; when you pouted.
Quickly we became best of friends, you were so patient and kind with me, each day you became more beautiful in my eyes, quickly I learnt that you loved to sing; your voice nothing less than angelic, you always sang for me and it seemed that my fingers had a mind of their own; they moved so fluidly over the piano keys when I played for you. You inspired me, you were my muse. We spent days immersed in music. I used to play the old grand piano at my house and you used to come and sing. Music bound us together; made my love for you all the more stronger. Music filled my silences just as your voice did . I prayed that you could feel what I wanted to tell you through the music we shared. If I told you, I love you , would you listen ? You were perfect and I was less than that. I did not deserve you; but for some reason I couldn’t bear to let you go, call me selfish, but I wanted you to know about the love I bore for you, so on your every Birthday, Valentines day, Christmas, and New year’s I wrote songs, for you; declaring my love for you, in many ways that my silences couldn’t convey. But at the last moments I used to chicken out; the feelings of inadequacy creeping in my mind. I never ever gave you those songs, keeping those scarps of paper in a old wooden box. My mom used to encourage me to tell you, but I was too coward to do so. Especially when you told me you had a boyfriend, I lost my chances of being with you. But still I hoped that you listened to my silences, listened to each note of the music I played, just for you, confessing my love to you a thousand times over and over. I still wrote the songs for you, but I never gave them to you, choosing to keep my emotions locked up, just like those songs. You went through a string of boyfriends and heartbreaks, and each time, my heart told me to give you that box , to confess my hopeless love; but I always knew I was not the one for you ; why would you love me? When you deserved to be loved like the angel you were.
It was the day before you were leaving for college, it was raining heavily and in my misery I was playing a sad piece on my piano. I did not have the heart to see you, and bid goodbye; so there I was wallowing in grief, mind recollecting all of my memories of you. As soon as I finished, I heard sniffles coming from behind. There you were all red eyed and crying, suddenly I was struck by deja vu.
“Why did you not come to see me?” You asked.
I shrugged and mouthed sorry.
I did not know why you were crying, I never liked to see you cry ; especially because of me. I had to ask you; why you were crying.
I took up my sketch pad and pen; ready to write my questions, normally we communicated using sign language; but I was too afraid of your answers so I had to stall for time; but I was not expecting what you did next, you slapped the book out of my hands, and turned me towards you. I realised you were holding something; something familiar in your hands.
Who had given it to you ? My mind was whirring, I was afraid, that this was the end of our friendship; this was it, you would never ever reciprocriate. I realised in the midst of this, you were saying something to me; bracing for the worst, already the tears were gathering around my eyes.
“Why didn’t you ever give me this? So many songs, so many memories, if your mom hadn’t given it to me, I would have never known.” You said tearfully. I was ready to stop you from breaking our friendship. To plead for you to stay with me, I was not expecting the paper suddenly thrust in my hands.
“Just read it.”
You said to me. Beyond confused and afraid, I opened it to be greeted by your scratchy scrawl.
‘You know, you are a big idiot; a big goofy idiot. Why couldn’t you give those confessions to me earlier. So many years of wasted time….’
I glimpsed back at you, what was this? You urged me to keep reading.
‘So many years of keeping your feelings for me locked up, couldn’t you see, couldn’t you feel, couldn’t you hear? My voice, my music, calling your name; every single time I sang for you. Couldn’t you read my silence, can’t you tell how irreversibly and irrevocably I have fallen for you and here I was thinking that you couldn’t ever listen my whispered I love you too.’
I was gobsmacked, was this for real? I looked at you with so much doubt, but seeing your fullblown smile, those green eyes reflecting so much love and warmth, my doubts began to evaporate, the first touch of your lips to mine, I was yours and you were mine, the silence between us ringing with the melody of love.