I
thought for a long time he was dead. For a long time, it seemed that way. The
day Tristan went camping with his friends was one of the worst days I could
ever experience, but I knew that he would want me to be happy. He wouldn't want
me to wait forever, so I knew that I didn't want to wait forever because I knew
I'd be unhappy if I did. I didn't think it was wrong.
The
day I met Michael, I knew I loved him just as much as I had loved Tristan. He
was just as handsome, he was just as strong, and he was just as mine.
I
don't feel too wrong about it actually. I think love is love and that it
shouldn't be about waiting. It should be about first sight. Of course, now I'm
left with no love at all. I guess that's fine. I guess I can start over, but I
don't really want to.
It
could have been Tristan. It could have been Michael. It could have been me
that was the problem.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Tristan,
now I want you to stay safe on the trip," I said.
"Okay,
mom!" Tristan told me laughing and I laughed with him thinking we would be
laughing again once he came back and told me all the hilarious things that
happened on that camping trip.
"Tristan,
I'm serious. Stay safe," I said and I wrapped my arms around him to give
him a kiss. We were eighteen fresh out of high school and trying to make our
way through life together.
"Well,
with that memento in mind, I think I'll definitely stay safe," he said. He
was a sweet, charming boy. I loved him very much. He was my high school
sweetheart and so I felt this strong connection between him and I.
His
friends honked the horn of their worn-out car and Tristan looked back with a
smile. He looked back at me and ruffled my hair. "Cherie, I'll be back on
Monday. Don't do anything to crazy."
"What
would I do without you here with me?" I said. He opened the car door and
entered. I watched their car until I could no longer see it. Until the smog
coming out of the engine was no longer visible. Until I could no longer feel
Tristan there with me.
It
was nice having the house to myself for the weekend. I loved having Tristan there,
but it was nice to have some time alone. Tristan was always alone when I first
met him, but I eventually made him break out of his shell. I guess he saw
something in me, because now I'm his little sugarplum fairy. He's very into Tchaikovsky.
"Oh,
Tristan, we never listen to your record of 'The Nutcracker' anymore. I'll tell
you to play it on our phonograph when you come back," I told myself in the
empty room. You never notice how small you are until you stay inside your house
all alone. The silence was a little weird for me, since Tristan was always
playing his piano or violin in the living room, but the silence was so lovely,
because it reminded me of how Tristan and I were able to be together in silence
without feeling weird at all.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It
had been two days and Tristan hadn't been back yet. I waited a little while and
then it was eventually Tuesday. In my mind, I thought, "Well, maybe
something came up."
Tristan's
mom called me. "Has Tristan come back yet? He told me, he'd call me once
he came back."
"No,
he hasn't and I have no idea where he is. I'm so worried Mrs. Levine. He said
he'd be back on Monday and it's Tuesday now. What could have possibly
happened?"
"Don't
be so worried Cherie. Everything will be alright. Let's just pray for Tristan's
safety. I'm going to contact the police," Mrs. Levine said. Thank God, for
Mrs. Levine. I would have never thought to even call the police. I would have
just waited and waited and waited until I finally decided that I couldn't wait
for him anymore and move on.
Mrs.
Levine called the police, but they told her that she couldn't call until it had
been two days of him being missing. We'd have to wait for Wednesday. Why?!
I hate that 48 hour rule. Why?!
I
played Tristan's record of "The Nutcracker" to calm my nerves and I
dance around, pretending that Tristan was holding me in his arms. This made me
feel all the better. Oh, how good it must be to be in someone's arms on such a
cold night. It must warm the hearts of all the lovers in the world to be in
someone's arms. Right now, I'll pretend I'm in someone's arms, but it'll never
match up to the real deal.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wednesday.
Today. The police came with Tristan's mom and they asked me tons of questions
like was he acting weird and were his friends acting weird. Did he seem sad? Did
he seem a little too happy? All these questions were a valid no. He wasn't
troubled in any way at all, so for them to ask me if he seemed strange was
absurd.
He
was obviously missing in the woods, I told them. Mrs. Levine agreed with me, so
the police decided to make a search party and they searched for all four boys,
not just Tristan for a whole month and after a while they said that they
weren't able to find him or any of the other's after looking thoroughly.
Mrs.
Levine started trembling and she fell to her knees. I helped her back up and
took her back home and I sat with her for a while just staring blankly at the
wall. She started sobbing and I couldn't help but cry with her. We held each
other tightly, because we knew that our beloved Tristan was gone forever. We
were fast to accept that, but it was hard to accept.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We
had a little funeral for Tristan and about twenty people came. We didn't dress
in black though, we all dressed in white because that was Tristan's favorite
color. We wanted his spirit to live on in our hearts. Wearing black would just
be. . .horrendous.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I
thought after the funeral that I would never want to be with anyone anymore. I
thought like that for a long time. I kept the house though. I didn't want to
give it to anyone. Since, I couldn't support myself without a job, I went and
applied for a job as an assistant. One of those assistant's that grabs the
coffee for their boss. It just so happens that my boss is a misanthrope. He's
so unsociable that he won't ask for anything. Instead, he'll type it out, print
it out, and hand it to me. I always try to make small talk with him, but he
never opens his mouth. Not even to cough! It's so weird.
His
name is Michael Glover and he looks like he never looks in the mirror. His hair
is always a mess and he's always wearing mismatched socks. It's strange, but
somehow it fits him.
He
started talking to me after the first week. I guess he eventually cracked,
because I have to sit in his room just staring at him and I think it annoyed
and creeped him out. He refers to me as Ms. Launcelot and always says, I should
call you Ms. Servant instead since Launcelot means servant. . .Or so he told
me.
"Mr.
Glover, do you need me to do anything for you?" I asked him at the end of
the day. I always do this, because a happy boss makes a happy employee.
"Yes,
Ms. Launcelot could you please try not to talk to me anymore," he said.
"I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not sure that I'll reply in a way that
would say that I actually care that you're talking. Do you know what I mean? I
don't really like socializing with people."
"Yes,
I've noticed, Mr. Glover, but can't we talk. It's not like anyone else really
cares," I told him. "Do you think they care and that's why you're
saying this or what?"
"No,
Ms. Launcelot, just don't talk to me," he said.
"But
why? I like you," I said. At the time I hadn't meant that I liked him like
I was interested in him, but I liked him as a person, because there was
something about his quirkiness that soothed my heart strings.
"You
like me?" he said befuddled. It was obvious he wasn't told this much in
his life. A small smile was on his face, but it slowly went away.
"Yes,
Mr. Glover, you're a very nice guy," I said.
"Well,
Ms. Launcelot that's kind of you to say. You can go home now," he said
beckoning me out with his hand.
"That
was weird," I told myself as I drove him listening to Mozart. I decided to
ditch Tchaikovsky or else I'd just keep dwelling on Tristan's death and that
wouldn't do me any good at all.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This
morning on the list Michael had printed out for me this morning it said: Let's
go have lunch together Ms. Launcelot. If you wish to that is.
"Mr.
Glover, I'm flattered," I said. "Of course, I'll go eat lunch with
you."
He
didn't reply, just looked at me and then back at his work. I was sure that
Michael must have had a hard time in life when it came to the topic of love. It
was written all over his face. His cute, baby doll face.
As
I kept looking at his face, I realized that he must like me and it just swirled
in my head and all the feelings I had for Tristan came back, but they weren't
for Tristan anymore they were for. . .Michael.
No,
I couldn't be thinking about someone else like that. That was impossible. It
had only been a week and some days after Tristan's death so should I really be
feeling that way about someone else. It's love though, isn't it?
Shouldn't I do what my heart feels?
This
was quite the predicament, but I decided that I'd go to lunch with him, because
we'd have to talk and whatever Michael had to say probably wasn't interesting
in the least.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
During
lunch he took me to Olive Garden. That was in between fancy restaurant and
fast-food diner I guess, but it was sweet of him.
"Thanks
for inviting me to lunch again, Mr. Glover," I said.
"Call
me Michael, Cherie," he said and when the name Cherie came off his lips it
was like honey. So sweet. So nice. I just wanted him to repeat it again.
"Well,
thank you Michael," I said.
As
we ate our lunch we talked and surprisingly he was very interesting. He told me
about all the things he went through in life and how hard it was for him to get
to where he was today and that even I could do it. I haven't had much
motivation since even before Tristan's death so this was really nice of him.
"Cherie,
would you consider me as your significant other? You don't have to reply now,
but please tell me by the end of the week. In fact, that's your. . .ASSIGNMENT!"
he said with a chuckle at the end.
"Yes,"
I said.
"Huh?"
he said his chuckle stopping. "I said you had until the end of the week
you know. Are you sure you just said the right thing?"
"Of
course I said the right thing. I never think twice about love," I said.
"LOVE?!"
he yelled at me.
"Yes,
love. I love you," I said.
"You're
very, umm, well, candid," Michael said with a smirk on his face.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael
and I quickly fell in love, made love, and told our love to the whole universe.
It was very quick. It was much quicker than the relationship I had with
Tristan. Everything was fast about it and I was used to more of a slow pace,
but this sudden speed in my life was so invigorating that I could just not get
away from it. Michael was pulling me into this fast paced lifestyle of his that
was so absolutely perfect. I wanted my life to stay this way.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael
and I were very far into our relationship now. It had been four years already
and I had this utter feeling in my stomach that he was going to ask me to marry
him.
I
got ready for it and everything, because he asked me to meet him somewhere
special. As I walked into the store to get my dress, I noticed someone from the
corner of my eye. It looked oddly like Tristan, which was weird, because
Tristan had such a unique look about him that no one else could possess.
"Tristan?"
I muttered underneath my breath. It couldn't be.
"Cherie!
Cherie!" he yelled. He looked as fine as the day he had left.
"Tristan?!
Where were you all this time? We. . .We thought you were dead! Do you know how
much pain you've caused us?" I asked him.
"I'm
fine, I just. . .My friends and I were all sort of planning this. I thought
that by the time I came back home I'd be rich, but I lost everything. You
understand, don't you?"
And
I did. I did understand, because he was Tristan and Tristan was my other half.
Just like Michael. Who was the true other half then? "I do."
"Then
you'll take me back yes," he said.
"What?"
I asked.
"You'll
marry me," he said.
"NO!"
I yelled far louder than I expected. "Tristan, I. . .I just can't." I
couldn't bring myself to tell him I had moved on and that I was with someone
else now. That was probably my main problem right there.
"Why
not?" he asked so distraught.
"You
just wouldn't understand," I said running off until I could feel that
Tristan was no longer there.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When
I went to the place with Michael, sure enough he proposed to me. I was so
"shocked" and I of course said yes to him.
"Cherie,
who is this?!" Tristan yelled coming out from behind one of the seats. The
whole restaurant had seen Michael's proposal, but to think that Tristan was
there was mind-blowing. It is so strange how things seem to all connect to each
other in the end. Tristan came back and he ended up going to the same exact
place I was going.
"Tristan,
this is Michael. My new boyfriend. Or I guess now he's my fiancé," I explained to him.
"So when I left you just
moved on even after you thought I was dead. We were supposed to spend our whole
life together, Cherie! You promised!" Tristan said.
"Cherie, is this
true?" Michael asked.
"Michael. . .Yes, but
that's all in the past!" I said.
"All in the past? You loved
me, you told me every day that you loved me and now it's all in the past! How
fake is that! I can't believe I could ever fall in love with someone like
you!" Tristan yelled.
"Cherie. . .I. . .I thought
you were different," Michael said. "I don't think we should marry
anymore."
"What? But Michael, I
really do love you!" I pleaded.
"You really loved me
once, too!" Tristan said.
"What a twist! I thought
you were a really great girl, but you're just another phony amongst the rest of
them," Michael said walking away.
Tristan and I stared at each
other and my eyes asked him if he would take me back, but he simply walked
away.
Everyone was clapping and
laughing and cheering for Michael and Tristan and I was alone with everyone who
was against me at this moment. I felt like dying right there, because my love
was just so deep into these two men that I didn't face the fact that love is a
fragile thing. They always say that hate is a strong word, but love
is even stronger. It's something that takes a lot of thought. You can hate as
many people as you want without it ever affecting your life, but loving people
is a different story. It's hard to choose who you can love these days and my
problem was that I wanted to love everyone.
Now I'm left with no one. I'm
left on my own with no one to hug or kiss or have or call mine. I only have me
and I guess. . .
I guess that's what I deserved
all along.
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