❝Brown hair that is nurtured in its tresses,
the chocolate brown eyes that keeps me searching for answers,
every smile you send my way stresses
every question of mine that is left unanswered.❞
Love,
Adam Thomas Beaulieu
-+-
Sometimes faci...
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-+- dinner & dance -+-
Falling into despair,
We were both lost in our own beasts.
We were helpless, thinking
How could anyone ever love
Broken souls like ours?
Facing a fear seemed like facing your death. But worse than that was the woman who stood in front me.
"Belle, I picked this one and this one. Which one is it going to be?" My mother, who was intent on making my date night perfect, stood like Queen Nerferiti, a few inches taller than me and full of attitude.
It was the night I agreed to go out with Adam to a dinner and dance he had planned. As soon as I got home and set my notepad on the table, my mother couldn't help but pry through my conversation with Adam. From "It's because I believe in you Adam" to "I'd call it a date," she went ballistic and dragged me to my room. It wasn't long before it became a mess. It was as if a hurricane had swept through it and things were everywhere. Simply put, that was my mother when she was on her feet.
That one.
My mother glared at me. "How am I supposed to know which one you chose?"
Because you know which one I'd wear.
"Fine." Pulling a dress off of a hanger, she laid the dress out onto the bed. It was a pale yellow dress that was of aesthetic quality and a daring creation. Deep pleats pinned up to one side of my hip while the rest of the gown evenly fell right to my knees. With a simply woven set of wedges, I was all set and ready for the night.
I walked down the stairs and sat in a couch. Gazing over our family pictures, the clock ticked by. Every second felt like a minute and I impatiently tapped my foot. A recursion of thoughts ran through my mind like on a treadmill. What if he forgot? What if this was a game he was playing? What if, above all, something had happened to him?
I was never prepared to fall in love with Adam and seeing him stand at the doorway as my mother had opened the door. My heart stopped and time froze. I stumbled to stand on my own two feet, but he was standing right next to me. We communicated with emotions and a language spoken with our eyes.
His appearance was no match to mine. A dark navy blue blazer contrasted with his white button up shirt that was fit to his build. His brown shoes moved around as he stood uncomfortably, almost shy. A sly smile crept onto my face realizing the effect I had on him. I took his elbow and waved at my mother.
