“Meet me at our spot under the pear tree tonight”
I carefully fold the handwritten letter up and hide it in my pillow case. If my parents found out about Izzy, I could lose everything as well as bring shame on my family. We used to be close friends growing up, but after her father’s scandal their entire family were shamed. Honestly I didn’t mind, she and I would meet up often by the pear tree. It started as friends but over the years, friends started to grow into something more. I loved her… I do love her. Ever since her father shamed her family we would meet to talk about ways we could escape, but there always seem to be things making it feel impossible.
I did what I always do: have dinner, clean up and then wait until l knew everyone was asleep before sneaking out of the kitchen door, and onto the path that leads into the small hills that gather just a few minutes away from my house. My heart is beating uncontrollably, echoing in my ears. And my breath so heavy It feels hard to carry, as if there’s a weight in my stomach. I have a feeling this will be the last time I see her because of how distant she seemed when we last sat together.
The last hill seems to have grown since the last time I was here; either that or I’ve become impatient to see her every time we leave one another. Then I finally see a glowing silhouette, her long blue dress hugging her in the breeze. The closer I get the closer I can see her face in the moonlight, her deep brown eyes, blonde hair that drapes over her shoulder, and a smile that could make the strongest person weak. I wouldn’t think it’s possible for someone to become more beautiful in just a week, but she seems to constantly prove me wrong. We lean against the tree and begin talking. She gives me a cup of her homemade cider and I notice the bracelet I gave her for her birthday 5 years ago, sparkle in the moonlight. I recognise it by the tiny butterfly that dangles just over the side of her wrist.
She lays her hand on my cheek as I take my first sip. Instantly I start to feel groggy.
“You know I don’t drink often. Why did you make this batch so strong?” I question jokingly.
She just smiles and takes a sip from her own glass.
Looking at her brings me such peace. This woman who, in both body and soul, were hand crafted by the gods themselves.
As the grogginess continues and the weakness settles into my body, I slowly start to realise what’s happening. I lie my head down on a patch of grass and she joins me; in this moment she’s all I can see. Her warm skin presses against mine. I can’t tell if it’s the drink that is making my heart race, or the touch of her silk-like skin brushing gently against my fingertips. Even though I feel sick, her eyes bring me a form of peace.
She lays her head on my chest as she whispers her confessions of her love to me. I stroke her hair while her breathing slows along with mine. In this moment all I can do is shed a tear, not because I’m scared or sad - actually it’s quite the opposite. I came tonight dreading this being our last night together. The last time I would; hear her honeyed voice, catch her contagious giggle and drown in those soulful eyes. Instead it became the start of eternity together. Body to body, hand in hand, forever, underneath the pear tree.