birdcage | ongoing

thirty-one| what's best

July 1991
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Harry didn't have plenty of experience when it came to gift-giving. Nor could he confidently say that he knew what sort of gifts girls liked. A lot of them liked money, just as his mother did. But he felt that handing Bethany an envelope of cash on their first date would send the wrong message. Unlike the people who paid him for his time, he didn't want to make her feel like a commodity.

So, on his way to the cinema, he stopped by a flower shop and purchased a bouquet of pink roses, hoping that she would appreciate the sentiment and see it as a token of his dedication to her. Throughout the previous night, she was all he dreamt about. They started casually rendezvousing a week after school ended and things took their course—she didn't judge him for the home he lived in or the type of life he had, and to him, that meant more than everything in the world.

However, they weren't official yet. On this date, he would finally ask her if she wanted to be his girlfriend. It took him a week to figure out how he planned on doing it, but he was ready. For once in his life, he was making a choice out of his own free will.

The cinema was a block away and they were supposed to meet at the entrance. His mind pieced together her appearance, wondering what she might have been wearing. He had always adored the dresses she donned whenever they met. Sometimes they were blue, sometimes pink, sometimes yellow. His heart raced just thinking of how beautiful she looked no matter the time of the day. It was such a stupid and naive thought to have, but it reminded him that deep inside, he was still just a kid who wanted to do kid things. Have a girlfriend, kiss her, hug her, call he beautiful. Everything he had seen in those movies his mother watched on television.

"Harry!"

His reverie shattered; his attention pulled by the very girl to who his mind ran off to. Bethany. He was right; she was wearing a dress this evening, a casual black slip dress. But with sneakers. It was an odd combination that most girls didn't opt for, but Bethany was her own person, and it didn't look all that bad to him. Perhaps he could have put in some more effort into his attire now that he saw hers. He rubbed one of his clammy hands on his blue jeans before adjusting his plain white tee. Maybe I'm too casual.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting," he said, apologetically smiling. "I had to get you a present."

"Present?" Her lips split into a dazzling grin. "I'm excited, Harry. What kind of present?"

He held out the bouquet toward her, his cheeks tinged the same colour as the flowers. "It's not much, but they're beautiful, like you."

There was a glow in her eyes that warmed Harry's heart. "They are beautiful. I love them." She accepted the bouquet and lifted it to her nose, inhaling their sweet scent. "Thank you, Harry. This is wonderful."

"It was no big deal." He massaged the nape of his neck, chuckling softly. He didn't show how nervous she made him feel and how much he wished he could have kissed her right there and then. But he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. With Bethany, he had to take things slow and let the feelings blossom on their own. "I'm glad you like them. I can always get you more if you want. On every date, I can get you roses."

Bethany stepped closer, nothing but the bouquet separating them as she looked up at him with tenderness. "How about you get me a single rose each time? I'll get you one too. We can make it our little tradition and we'll see how many we can gather."

"I hope we'll be gathering them for a long time," he told her, hoping that she had caught on to what he was trying to say. He clasped her right hand and their intertwined fingers hung between them, much like the unspoken question did.