Owen

12 - Shards of Broken Glass

12 - Shards of Broken Glass

"Why are you going to these lengths just to make Owen happy, Anthony?" I ask, as the boy tries to curl the ends of my hair with one of my Mom's hair-styling contraptions. 

"Because I've done so much wrong in the past, Amy," Anthony says, sighing, as the ends curl a little bit before flattening again. "I mean, I've been so frustrated at myself, my sexuality, Owen's immediate rejection, that I've started to think that him hating me and me hating him back is the only possible resolution. The little 'gangster acts' that I've set up distracted me from the pain, so I clung to them, selfish person I was. But then ... someone made me realize that unrequited love didn't have just that one ending."

"Who?" I ask, as the bangs I've grown to hate over the days flop beautifully to cover a portion of my forehead.

He smiles, his eyes focused solely on styling my hair, but I'm sure his mind is elsewhere. "I don't know if he should tell you, or I should, but you'll know in time. It's hard to speak for another person."

"Yet you're speaking for Owen right now by encouraging me to confess," I say, a small smile tugging at my lips. 

"Well, I guess I can speak for him a little," he says, noticing my smile and smiling back. "he cares for you a lot, that much I can say. And he swears he's going to protect you no matter what."

"He? Protect me?" I repeat, making him nod. "My Dad? He married my Mom..?"

"Oh, Amy. Something tells me that there's no end to your naivety."

***

Under the branches of the acacia tree, where our names are carved several years ago, I wait, wearing a knee-length, loose, frilly dress, my hair done in an elegant plait, my toes curled in nervousness as I await Ed and Owen. My mind drifts to Anthony and I's conversation earlier, as he explains what I'm supposed to do.

"Just say what you're feeling, Amy," he had said. "Be true to your heart. I might have fucked up my chance, but that's most probably because he just does not swing that way and might just like me as a friend." He laughs a little, a quick bitter one, before continuing. "Oh how it pains me to say that. But now that history has repeated itself, and he's once again pushing someone else who likes him away, I want the future to change. I don't want you or him to hate each other, especially now that I think your feelings are mutual."

"Amy, go out there and make him happy. Pick up his shards for me," he then added, before pulling me into a quick hug. "Because I can never do it myself. I just have to watch from afar."

I look at him now, sitting by himself on the swings, looking too big for the metal thing as he swings back and forth slowly, his eyes downcast. The boy who has made Owen's high school life hell because he himself is hurting inside. This boy who's now pushing himself to his limits to make Owen happy. Anthony, who has now realized the meaning of love. And letting go.

I sigh, twiddling with my bangs. "People," I whisper. "Twisted, crazy, with their own little kind of reasoning for the way they live their life and make their decisions. Life, a great big mess because of all these people crammed together in this small planet, forcing everyone to build relationships and wars, love and hate, happiness and despair."

"That's kind of a spot on description of life you have there, City Girl."

Turning towards the tree, I see him leaning against it, wearing his all-too familiar scrunched blue polo, his hands inside his pockets, his head bowing down, his face not showing. I look back at the swings and two people wave - one big and bulky, one eating something out of a bag. I smile softly, thanking them subliminally.