Chapter 11 In Love
The sickness eventually went away, after five days, so I returned to basking in my memories with Magdalena, collecting the notes we wrote to each other and my writings of her.
Sometimes, during class, she’d drop her arm down the side of her chair, and full of excitement, I’d reach over.
The tips of our fingers would touch, and my body would crackle with static electricity, startling me in my own seat.
When she’d take my hand in hers, the warmth would spread, melting away all the tension stiffening my muscles, and I would know I was home.
I especially loved it because she’d sigh and arch her head a little toward me, making it easier for me to smell her hair.
It was as intoxicating as drinking champagne.
In the time we’d known each other, we’d lived so many lifetimes together.
Every day, she’d pull me from my grim reality into her dream worlds, like Earth to its moon, always keeping me afloat and close to her.
As she described her dream worlds, I’d picture them.
In neighboring small clouds full of warm water, close to the sun, we would bathe.
Our fire- and ice-breathing dragons accompanied us as we visited the chocolate waterfalls, and then at night, we’d ride fireflies, going from party to party, always celebrating, eating cookies and cakes and, of course, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
It was never enough, but in the little time we had together during recess, we’d chase each other, or she’d hide from me, and I would have to find her.
Then, after eating, we’d lay on the grass, taking in the feel of the blades and smell of it while holding hands…
It was pure heaven. Like a magical balm to a gash, it truly melted away much of the darkness I’d lived, lessening the ongoing pain.
She didn’t understand how essential she was to my every breath.
How could she? I’d hidden the hell I’d lived and still was enduring at home.
Every day, I’d fall from the heaven that was her arms, her eyes, back down to home, to hell.
But I would do it a million times again.
I’d keep running to her no matter how bad it got at home. She kept me alive.
To soak up every possible minute together, my generous beloved started riding home with me.
The first time we dropped her off, I stayed in the car, staring at her house long after she’d run in.
I wanted to take in the image of the home where she lived such a safe, loving life.
It wasn’t as big and pretentious as my uncle’s mansion, just a nice white house full of love.
Almost every day, I asked her if she’d marry me.
I was obsessed with the idea of us being together forever, but I never dared to dream she’d say yes, because not only was it obvious Magdalena was meant for greatness, it was also what I wanted for her.
She deserved the world, not some abandoned, broken, lost soul like me who was just surviving the life that had been forced upon him.
The proposals had become somewhat of an aoir or a game of teasing and satire between us. Even after three years, the question still had the power to make her blush.
When she asked me how we could marry at our age and without permission, the shock knocked all thoughts out of my mind. That’s the only reason I could fathom why she’d say yes. She said yes.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
She said yes.
My angel said yes?
Our angel.
That day, I’d stayed parked, staring at the home of the girl who’d changed everything in my life.
I scarcely heard what she said after that, and certainly didn’t remember it an hour later as I sat on my bed at home, trying to make sure I had not hallucinated the whole thing.
It took too long for me to realize what the moment really meant; it wasn’t even about tying her to me.
She’d chosen me.
Once I got over the shock, I ran through the house, searching for Mum. I didn’t even greet her because the only thing running through my mind was my angel. “Mum! Mum!” I yelled, running to the back of the house.
I had never disturbed her when she was gardening because I knew how important and healing it was for her. Alarm filled her eyes as she lifted them to me. “Killian! Are you okay?” she asked as she stood from the dirt in front of the rose bushes.
“I need a suit,” I shouted, out of breath.
“Jesus Christ, Killian. All that over a suit? What the—”
“You don’t understand. It’s important, Mum. The most important suit of my life!”
I got closer to her and pulled her hand.
“When—”
“Right now. Come. We need to go find one now.” The excitement wouldn’t allow me to stay still, so after running, I kept jumping around.
“What—why—what in the world is going on—”
“I’ll explain later.” I guided her back toward the house so we could go shopping for what I’d wear to marry the girl of my dreams. “And invitations, we need invitations, at least for the girls. They have to be happy, or else she might change her mind.” My words tumbled out of my mouth at a high speed, almost jumbled.
Seconds later, I wasn’t even sure what I’d voiced.
“Invitations? To where, Killian?”
I looked around and whispered, “I told you; I’ll tell you later.”
Minutes later, she walked down the stairs, changed into a flowy long flowery dress, with her purse and sunglasses. In the car, she pushed a button so the glass would rise between the chauffeur and us while he drove us to the shops.
“Okay, what’s going on?” When I didn’t even turn to respond, she called, “Killian—”
“Mum! Not here, okay? This is very important to me, and I don’t want him to ruin it.”
As she opened the door to the shop, she asked again. “Okay. Tell me. What is going on.”
“Ummm…” Inside the shop, she lowered herself to my height.
“Killian…” Her tone warned me to speak up.
“Mum…” I hesitated, my eyes shifting between hers; if she ruined this for me, I’d never forgive her. “I’m in love.”
Confusion wrinkled her forehead. “I’m going to marry her.”
Her eyes widened, and her lips formed an O. “Have you asked her da for permission to marry her?”
“I will.” It was only half a lie. He wouldn’t understand how necessary it was to me for this to happen so early in our lives.
He didn’t know that each day that passed I was losing more and more control over my destiny.
This helped me feel grounded, like I had something to fight for.
And if I did die soon, at least I would have that magical moment with her.
I did plan to talk to him someday. I would set things straight—tell him the truth, explain my actions, and apologize—and hopefully, he wouldn’t take it personally.
Maybe we’d have another ceremony that would be more in accordance with her culture.
“Who is she?”
“No one you know, Mum.” She tried to hide it, but I saw the relief when her eyes fluttered, and she stood. It was one of the rare moments in which Mum silently acknowledged that no one tied to her husband was any good for us. “What’s her name?”
Again, I hesitated.
“I won’t tell him, Killian. I promise.”
“Magdalena Michaelson.”
“She’s not French?”
I shook my head, and a smile stuck to my lips and hot cheeks. “Her family is from the US.”
Mum hugged me, appearing as relieved as I that she wasn’t tied in any way to Uncle’s business. “I’m so happy for you, Killian. Maybe someday, you both can run… together. America is so big. He—”
“He what, Mum?” The fact that she wouldn’t complete the sentence fired up my fury. I wasn’t an idiot. Uncle was forcing Mum to stay with him somehow, and things had gotten worse for her. I just didn’t know how, and she refused to tell me what was really going on.
“He won’t find you over there.”
I hugged Mum again. “Oh, Mum, I do love you. You’ll come with us.
I would never leave you behind.” I said the last sentence while looking in her eyes and holding her hand, and to my very core, I meant it.
I’d find a way to sneak her out of that hellhole.
“Just like you never left me.” Her embrace was tighter this time.
“My sweet little man. You’re all that matters. Don’t worry about me.” I could hear the tears she held back.
That afternoon, I picked my suit. The women at the shop wouldn’t stop gushing over how “elegant” I looked as they modified it to fit perfectly on my body. I had thought it was too much, but Mum insisted. “If you’re going to wear a suit, then wear it right.”
She sat on a comfortable chair, watching me, drinking tea and eating biscuits one of the ladies had served her. Sometimes, when I would blink over to her, I’d see so many wrinkles on her tired, sad face; other times, she looked as gorgeous and young as ever.