(she)
it's been a week. a week of you driving us across the continent, a week of us playing hide and seek and never finding each other, a week of me reading your books, wearing your sunglasses, learning new french words that you use often, and you finding new ones that i won't understand. we only took one picture, because the minute you unlocked your phone thousands of notifications popped up and we decided to keep it off for the rest of the trip.
it's been a week since we met,
and two days since we kissed.
we never got around to talking about it,
and perhaps i like it better that way.
perhaps i am so terrified of what you have to say, that perhaps i won't ever bring it up.
is it better to not know?
it certainly is easier.
yesterday we watched a baseball game together and i found out you knew a lot about greeks but nothing about sports.
we had just witnessed a girl on her father's shoulders, jumping at the sight of the white ball being thrown outside the field, and catching it.
our eyes wide open as she was in the air and in our minds the question everybody else was probably thinking too, who will catch her?
the dad seemed to realise the same thing at the same time because he jumped in record time and miraculously stopped the incident.
she had caught the ball, and he had caught her.
i turned to look at you and i could see the panic in your eyes, and i enjoyed it a little.
you looked back at me and leaned in, screaming, trying to be louder than the crowd, you explained that you didn't think you'd see something like that, ever. your face lit up and you added that your father was never the type of parent to bring his kid to a baseball match, but he would read you lots of books before you went to sleep.
> i'm a sophisticated boy.
> you're a sophisticated man.
a soft smile formed on your lips, a smile of humility. did you not believe my words?
> tell me a story.
> a story?
> yes, a myth. you know, greeks and all.
> right, right.
...
orpheus and eurydice.
orpheus, son of apollo, spent his early years dedicating to music and poetry, mastering the lyre and garnering audiences from all around the world. it was at one such gathering that his eyes fell on a wood nymph. eurydice. something inexplicable tugged the hearts of the two and they fell dearly in love, unable to spend a single moment apart, their marriage was blessed soon after. however, a man named aristaeus desired eurydice for his own. as the newly wed were headed home, aristaeus was in the bushes, waiting for their arrival and planning to kill orpheus. he made his move but the lovers were fast and started running through the forest. on and on they ran and suddenly, orpheus felt eurydice stumble and fall, her hand slipping from his grasp. he turned around and realised eurydice had stepped on a nest of snakes and had been bitten by a deadly viper. she died in his a-
SCORE!!!
we were interrupted by cheers and screams and waves as a player started crying on the ground.
i looked at him attentively, around twenty years old, dirty blond hair, small eyes, a mix of sweat and tears on his face, i could tell he had been doing this for a long time.
i imagined him at 8, in the junior team, hearing the coach telling his parents that he has a "special talent", and will accomplish "great things", and i saw him at 12, up all night, out of breath, training in his room, and i almost felt the energy being drained out of me as if i were him right then, at 12, but also i felt it come back the minute he got the trick right.
he was passionate, i could tell.
he had been doing this for a long time, and he also wasn't used to losing. i could tell.
i wished i were him.
the game was over soon after and as we were trying to reach the exit i saw you stumbling and kneeling in the middle of the crowd.
i waited next to you as you got back up and saw a mischievous smile form on your face, similar to the one i imagined you would make as a child whilst stealing candy.
you put your hand on my waist and started walking me away from the field, i looked at you in confusion but your poker face was out and i knew too well to try and crack it, so i let your hand be on my waist, our feet walk at the same pace, and our faces look right in front of us.
as if we knew where we were going.
we sat on a bench under a yellowish light, and that's when you revealed a small round object in your hand: the ball from the game.
the little girl must've dropped it, and as attentive as you are, you were the only one to notice. i was shocked:
> are you out of your mind?
> carpe diem. seize the moment.
we stared at it for a while, a bit dirty from the field but beautiful nonetheless.
you handed it to me.
> a "i don't have pockets" gift?
> a "never forget me" gift.
it happens to me that i think things but decide not to say them, and this was no exception.
> what happened after? when eurydice passed?
you were silent for a bit, remembering, until your eyes lit up and you spoke again.
after the death of his beloved wife, orpheus changed, living in grief. then, he had an idea: he entered the underworld, played his lyre and sang out to king hades and queen persephone that eurydice was returned to him. the voice of orpheus was so moving that hades promised him eurydice would follow him to the upper world. however, he warned orpheus that for no reason must he look back while his wife was still in the dark, for that would undo the granted wish. he should wait for eurydice to get into the light before he looked at her. the lovers began their journey out of the underworld, joyful that they would once again be reunited. the closer the exit, the harder it was for orpheus to not turn around, his heart beating faster and faster, the moment he stepped on the world of the living he turned his head to hug his wife, but eurydice was still in the dark, she hadn't seen the sun. she was drowned back to the dark world of the dead. she was gone forever. orpheus could never move on from his love and lived the rest of his life alone, in despair. that is until he died, brutally murdered by a group of irate women he had rejected. story says he didn't try to fight them, and his soul descended down to hades where he was finally reunited with his eurydice.
we stop for a minute and look around, hearing steps. it's an old woman with her dog, she's gone just as fast and we turn to each other instead. but you're silent, and it feels heavy.
it feels like grief.
> is everything alright?
> it is, sorry. it's not a happy story.
> based on what i know i'd say most of greek myths aren't.
your eyes soften a bit and i can tell what i said felt nice. i also realise how pretty your eyes are.
i always thought you were attractive but i now find myself taking a moment, enjoying you.
your eyes are brown like chocolate and they make me want to eat you, in a strange way.
they're also deep and very emotional, differently from usual.
i fall in them without a care in the world.
and then i look again and realise your eyes are also delusional. they hope i let them fall in me as well.
and so i stand up, and i leave, and you follow me without letting a word out, and we walk back to the hotel in completely aware silence, and you take the couch without even asking, and i go to the bed, and as i'm falling asleep i think to myself:
"i would love you so much if i could."
even then, i say nothing.
