Wish you well

I remember feeling the dramatic pinch against my skin the minute the bullet struck me. It felt like a thick nail, surrounded by a fireball, had entered inside of me with no plan of escaping. I remember the cold wisp of air that escaped my lips on impact and the noticeable arch in my back as I began to collapse.

When my back hit the clumps of dirt below I didn't think of where I'd end up after my eyes shut permanently. I didn't think of the bastard that pulled the trigger or that my comrades had yet to find me amidst the destruction. As soon as I was able to form an unblurred picture in my mind, I saw you.

You're 11 years old, worshipping a duck family inhabiting a small pond by our homes. I never quite understood your connection with them, but I understood that was part of why you intrigued me so much. I watch you hand one of the smaller ducks a ration of bread before it scampers away to feast on the treat. You look so delighted.

The moment the duck’s hesitantly approach you, light bulbs underneath your skin cause your face to brighten. You're comfortable here and I find satisfaction in you being able to experience this simple activity. Then you wander backwards, away from the source of your joy. You tuck your legs under you as you sit idly beside me on a bench.

I'm not sure what's making me gravitate towards you, but it doesn't seem to matter once you return my kiss. It's short, soft, almost invisible. You're aware we're in public but shift closer to me anyway. I tense under the touch of your fingers dancing along my open palm. You don't look as petrified as me, as if this is a natural occurrence for us.

I feel the pads of your fingers sliding up my palm, before you curl them between the spaces of my fingers - locking us together eternally. I can't tear my eyes away from the beautiful mix of colour we create.

My vision was blurred again, and I only witnessed specs of grey and black. There was something or someone tugging on my vest, desperate to bring me to safety. Although nothing was visible at the time, I was able to hear the chaos around me. The hollers and explosions that told me I still had a chance to make it out alive. I did not want my last breath to be amongst the many I’d already heard.

We had been apart only a month before I was brought here. The moment I told you I enlisted, you swore that was the last straw for you. I had mentioned when we were 13 that I would fight for our country. When I turned 15 I changed the word country into you. My 15th birthday had brought me closer to you than ever before.

We swore that our bond was untouchable. We promised each endless happiness.

In the end I did what I set out to do, which resulted in me lying helpless amidst tragedy and death. I could almost feel my fingers, but the chill in the air froze them once again. I liked feeling. It reassured me that I was alive.

After I was picked up and slapped several times across the face, the picture of you in my mind disappeared completely. I almost wished I were dying so I could see you again.

The air isn't as warm as it used to be in Lima. On hot afternoons I was able to admire your stunning figure without it feeling unnatural.

Relatives and friends believed our friendship was built solely on sharing common interests and keeping secrets. But we shared so much more than that.

I wish we still did.

But you're not going to be waiting for me as I exit the terminal. I realised that long ago.

The turbulence is unbearable without having you beside me to whisper reassuring words in my ear. I would trade in my medals to have you back, as the shine on them dims in the dark. But with you…the light never left.

We've just touched down. It’s rough but at least we're on land.

As my feet finally hit home soil, I'm taken aback by the rush of satisfaction I feel. Not only knowing that I'm finally home for good, but also knowing the fact I'm in the same city you're in.

I hoist my large duffle bag over my shoulder with ease. You always loved how strong I was, especially for my small frame. Small, laughing bodies sprint passed, reminding me of the time we spoke about having little versions of us running around. I watch as their mother's push passed the crowds of people, frantically calling out their children's name’s.

You were probably contacted when I was shot in battle. If I had to think of you in the position I was in, I would've locked myself away from the outside world.

All I needed was a letter in the hospital, or something that told me you were thinking of me. But nothing ever came, not one single letter. That's how I knew you were moving on.

I'm exiting the terminal now. There are squeals of joy as the people waiting outside notice a loved one arriving. I scan the area for anybody I know, like a family member or old friend.

No one.

And then my eyes peer passed the swarms of people towards someone insanely familiar. My feet pick up pace as I turn the corner to analyze this person.

The paper in my hand drops, along with the pen that makes a bouncing click sound as it hits the tiled floor.

There you are. Your golden hair is falling passed your shoulders in waves. Your endless creamy legs flexing as you shuffle between your right and left foot. Your hands, god I miss those hands. I can barely make out the chipped blue nail polish, but I know it's there, because you never left the house without polish on. I imagine your hands to be soft, even after all of this time.

Your smile grows wide as if you're seeing someone after so long. I almost think you're looking directly at me and when I touch you I'll wake up on the battle field again.

But you don't see me. You're watching the entrance intently and I wonder how you didn't see me walking through. Maybe you didn't recognize me, or you just chose to ignore the fact that I'm standing so close to you now, staring. Hoping.

Everybody is occupied while I stand frozen between the bodies of excited people. I urge myself to walk up to you and greet you. But then your smile widens and your arms slowly spread wide as if inviting someone into them.

And you are.

There she is, some girl that I have never seen in my life. She leaps into your arms as though claiming you as her prize. You secure your arms around her back and I watch you inhale the scent of her hair, just like you used to do mine.

I'm still stagnant, staring at the interaction you two are sharing. When you pull back from each other, she grabs your cheeks and kisses you forcefully on the lips. The lips that used to belong to me.

I'm starting to think you didn't hear of my injury. Because right now you appear animatedly happy. I remember having a splinter at the age of 13 and you rushing by my side crying.

I couldn't imagine a bullet to the gut would have made you this happy. So maybe you never heard of my near death experience and you never will. I was planning to visit you now that I'm back for good, but seeing you happy with another person makes me reconsider immediately.

I would've only asked for you forgiveness, nothing more. I would not have asked for friendship again, because that would have killed me as much you.

It would be selfish of me to expect things from you now, 4 years later.

If you can move on, then so can I. But I can't help but plead in the back of my mind that you still think of me. And when she does something you compare it to the way I did it. Because nothing would mean more to me than to know you were at least thinking of me while I was laying on dirt unmoving, with little to no chance of surviving.

I wish you all the best and I realise I'm not even close to it. But you know I tried, I really did try for you.

We were so close to having everything we ever wanted and now I guess you've gone and found it without me.

The girl showers your face in kisses, adoring every part of you. You seem so loved and comfortable with her. A smile spreads on my face, for the simple fact that you're happy.

I would never tell you I almost died on duty, I would never give you this letter that had me up all night figuring out the perfect way to tell you I still care. You will never know I'll love you for the rest of my life, because I ruined my chance 4 years ago.

I bend down to pick up the letter and pen that slid from my grasp and offer you and your girl one more empty look. Then I force my feet to walk my body towards the exit and when I pass a rubbish bin, I scrunch the letter into a tattered ball and throw it in.

As much as I want to believe you still reside next door to me, it's a long shot. You've grown up, you've found someone to provide for you. As the cab pulls up outside my old home, I don't pay mind to my house. My eyes instantly find your place.

But it isn't yours anymore, there are different people inhabiting it now. Kids are giggling and chasing each other in the garden, while their parents drink coffee on the front stoop. I pay the cab driver and head towards my front door.

I don't know how many months it had been since I saw you in the airport. I've lost track of time, dates, reasons to fight.

My wound had never been entirely dealt with at the hospital. It became infected last week and my first thought isn't to contact a doctor, it's to lock myself away from real life and drift away from the world slowly and peacefully.

I'm clenching my palm against my ribs, while slowly trudging towards the living room. The roar of an engine halts my movement and I carefully change directions.

Opening the door, I observe the mail man slipping an envelope into the rusting letter box. He turns to me, waves and then rides off. I slowly lift the hand that isn't occupied over my wound and wave back. It takes me a few deep breaths to make it down my front porch steps, but I eventually make it to my letter box.

I pull out the envelope and stare acutely at the name of the sender. My expression doesn't change however, I'm too weak to express the shock and nervousness that's itching to be shown. I wander back inside and sit myself on the edge of my recliner.

The sting felt on my ribs as I bend my waist to sit down is excruciating. But I endure the pain, because I have felt a lot worse in the past.

I unseal the letter, dropping the envelope lazily beside me. The paper is folded into three sections and I begin to dread what's written inside.

As soon as I flatten the letter out I recognize your hand writing. You're so neat, with your letters curved perfectly and excellently spaced to make everything clear. The fingers holding the letter tremble and I realise that I'll need to read this as fast as I can.

Although I fear of what you'll say, I need to know.

Dearest Lucy,

My girl. My only love. I saw you that day at the airport. I hoped to approach you after my girlfriend returned from business overseas. I hoped to introduce you both, but you seemed anxious. I wouldn't force her into your life, knowing how much history we have, but I did want you to see how much joy she brings to my life.

I do not mean to be harsh or inconsiderate. I'm just simply informing you that I'm doing well. I sincerely hope you are as well.

After you left I watched you drop a piece of paper into a rubbish bin. It seemed unimportant so at first I simply ignored the nagging feeling in my chest, urging me to retrieve it. But I couldn’t.

I tucked the paper into my coat pocket until I returned home. When I was alone in the garden, I decided to open up the tattered paper and read it. I was thinking at first that it was completely blank and unimportant, because you did indeed throw it away. But when I read the first sentence my blood refused to pump through my veins.

My heart felt heavy, knowing you were hurt and there was nothing I could do. It hurt even more I was finding this out months after it originally happened. I remember you always telling me things first, even before your family.

You rushed into my house one day, somehow knowing nobody was home but myself. I heard your hurried footsteps reach my door and when I opened it I saw you clutching your underwear. You seemed pale and horrified for some reason. And when you removed your hands I saw why.

I had gotten my period a year after you, and you were also the first one I told. We shared a lot of firsts together didn't we? But as time goes on and I move on with someone new, it feels like you and I happened a life time ago.

In saying that, do not ever think I will never love you until the day I leave this earth. Of course I care about you and thought about you every single day you were away. After a while I couldn't worry anymore, I had to force myself to let go.

You're in my heart always. We were friends before we were lovers, so don't think that I won't give up on contacting you. Now that I know you're home for good, maybe we could go out for a milkshake sometime?

I understand if you need time to process everything that's changed in my life. I really do hope you're happy though and that you find someone because you deserve the best as well Lucy. I relive the day at the pond every single night before I fall asleep. I kissed you back because I wanted too. I kissed you back because I loved you. I had fallen for you the day of your 10th birthday, the day we officially became best friends.

The look on your face when I gave you your present. It wasn't even the best gift you were given, but the look in your eyes told me you appreciated it because it was me that was giving it to you. And when you hugged me, whispering a cheerful 'thanks' in my ear, I knew. I knew we were going to be together, or connected in someway, forever.

Please write me back or call me. I have the same number. I hope to hear from you again because it took me all the strength I had not to hold you in the airport that day. But I'm content with my life now, I'm happy, just like you want me to be.

Don't forget that I care, I always will.

Love your dearest, Samantha.

The ink begins to smudge because of the tears I let fall onto it. I don't care. I'm too weak to send back a letter or treasure this one. So I leave it on my lap as my breathing evens out. My arms rest beside me, the letter being held between two fingers. My chest is rising slower than normal, because the infection is taking control.

I'm dying. But it's not a bad thing, now.

All I had to know was that you still care, you always did. Even when I left you.

My lids are heavy and the pain isn't so much as a slight throbbing. The sound of the doorbell ringing causes concern in my chest. I curse under my breath, but remain still. I can't move at this point, and if I did, I would only fall to the floor.

The ringing stops and I pray silently hoping that whoever is there has left. Then the handle on the front door turns with an audible rattle. I try to swallow but fail. This is it.

The weight is too much now, my body is shutting down and I refuse to fight it. I know everything I need to know.

I'm finally happy just like you are.

When there is a slither of light I'm still able to see, I fight just a little bit. Because that light is you. You're the source of the door opening and the feather light footsteps down across the floor towards me. You're the voice that cries out my name as I drift into a permanent sleep.