Ten years ago, my parents were working abroad, so I boarded at the girls' high school. On Sundays, all the students and teachers went home. I was the only one in this big empty school except for a janitor. The usually lively school was instantly cold.
I was afraid of being alone, so on Sundays, I usually wandered the streets until I was tired and went back to sleep in the dormitory. This day, as usual, I was wandering around the street when it suddenly started raining. My language teacher Charles suddenly appeared and asked me with a smile: " Sara, walking in the rain!"
I smiled at him in confusion and tried to walk away, but he took off his jacket and put it over our heads to protect us from the rain, which involuntarily reminded me of my father.
When I was little, no matter where I was, as long as it was raining, my dad would hold me in his arms and block the rain for me with his body and clothes. When I grew up, he would take off his coat and put it over our heads, walking side-by-side and taking me home.
My mind went back in time, and I felt that I was not with my teacher, but with my father. My feet couldn't help but follow him, but he was walking back not to school, but his home. In his house, I met Charles' wife and his son Luis, Charles' wife is an elementary school teacher, surnamed Sean, Luis and I are also first-year students, but we are not the same school classmates.
I don't know if it's because I'm less likely to visit, or if it's just my nature. Charles and his wife were very nice, but Luis was a bit arrogant and directed at me, but I never cared, because I was just a visitor in their house.
However, when Mr. Sean found out that my parents were out of town, he put me up in their house. Every Sunday, Mr. Sean would ask Luis to pick me up and bring me to their house, and Mr. Sean would cook me good food every time. When I first started, I thought Luis was targeting me because of this. Then I realized that he thought I was being formal at their house because I was acting out, but as time went on and we got to know each other better, I relaxed.
I slowly stopped being formal, and my relationship with Luis slowly improved, and then we went to high school together. We started with a basic friendship and slowly rose to love. After graduating from high school, we both agreed to get married after graduation.
But in my junior year, I received a blood-red wedding invitation handed to me by his own hands. The first time I saw him, I was surprised to find that he was Luis.
When we met, he smiled and handed me a blood-red wedding invitation, I reached out and took it, and I saw that the bride and groom on the wedding invitation were Luis and Nicole. The wedding invitation slipped from my hands, I stared into his eyes, how I wish he could tell me that it was just someone with the same name as him.
He smiled and told me that he met a girl he liked in college, the girl's name was Nicole, and they were in love, and the reason they couldn't wait to graduate to get married was that Nicole was pregnant. I do not want to shed tears in front of him, I want to proudly say to him: wish you two forever together, to grow old.
The company's main business is to provide a wide range of products and services to its customers. Not only did he know my dormitory, he even seemed to be familiar with it as if he had been here a thousand times before, carrying me to my bed and settling in before leaving.
I was sick for a month, and I saw Luis all the time, and he sat by my bedside and kept telling me, "I'm sorry, Sara, I was too young when I met you, I didn't know any better, I just mistook my love for love. Now that I've met a woman I truly love, I realize that I only like you, not love. I'm sorry, forget about me ......"
For a whole month, I lost more than ten pounds. A month later, I resumed my original life, but I have always loved to smile, and from that day onwards never really smiled.
After graduation, I thought for a long time, about the result I still put my resume to the high school where I studied with Luis, not for any, I just hope that I can be close to taking care of my teacher and teacher mother. After all, they had helped me when I was at my most helpless, and they had always been true to me.
And because I couldn't let go of Luis even though he no longer loved me, I still loved him and I just wanted to know if he was doing well.
After I returned to my alma mater to teach, I didn't dare to see Charles' father because I was afraid, I was afraid to see Luis and his wife, and I didn't dare to face them.
Ten days ago, I accidentally learned from a teacher at my alma mater who taught me and Luis that Luis had died two years ago, in August of the year I was a junior in college. The teacher said that the day he died was the day he came to my university to deliver my wedding invitation.
When I thought of that day, my heart hurt like a million swords through my heart, and my tears seemed to flow unstoppably. I frantically grabbed everyone who passed by me and I kept asking them if Luis was dead ......
I couldn't believe that the day of his death would be the day of my wedding invitation. I finally collapsed to the ground, my eyes could see everything as usual, but I couldn't see anything. My ears can hear as usual, but I can't hear a sound. My senses are still there, but I can't hear anything.
My mind was like a short circuit, a blank, just when I thought I was dead. My ears kept hearing Luis' words, he kept saying to me: "Sara, wake up. I need you, wake up, I'm the only son my parents have left. If you don't help me take care of my parents now that I'm dead, how will my parents live in the future? I'm begging you, you can't do this anymore, get your act together. Sara, you have to help me take care of my parents ......
I reached out and tried to grab them, but I couldn't get anything. I woke up with tears streaming down my face and realized it was my mother's hands. My mother's hands in my impression are round and dexterous. But now I have not seen my mother for a few years, she is older than the past dozens of years, a woman in her forties, in the prime of life, at this time looks like an old woman of 60, 70 years old.
I was in tears, Luis' death was a very heavy blow to me, but not to my teacher and my mother.
About the Creator
Claderova
Different youth, the same confusion. However, youth will grow and confusion will dissipate. After the night, the sun rises as usual!
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
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