Spectrum

Shocking Yellow

Before you read this, i want to say that I have another surprise, towards the end.

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Thinking of Chris

Such a tragic ending. Such a shock to see how things ended, how things never did truly begin. I stare blankly, not quite realizing the sheer weight of the words in my hands. I've reread them numerous times-each time making feeling even more numb- but I still do not understand.

How can he have died? He was the strongest person I've known. He was the most generous person I've known. He was the most amazing person I've known. Why is fate so cruel? When he came back, we were going to be married. It was going to be a small, modest wedding on the beach, where we'd look into each others eyes-me tearing up at the love that his held- and say out vows before being bound together for the rest of our lives.

We were going to live until we were old and had grandchildren, and we'd tease each other about how cliche we had turned out- two kids growing up together, with our families rooting for our marriage, and finally ending up together when we were both out of high school.

Except we weren't. Only me. High school ended and he told me that he wanted to serve our country. "When I come back, everything will be perfect. We'll have things in place- you won't have to work, our retirements will be paid for and things will be perfect." He had added that after I had begun to cry. He had kissed my cheeks and then held them in his hands.

That day, we had gone stargazing and slept under the stars. Two days later, he came to my doorstep, it had been pouring rain and it was two a.m., but he still ran ten blocks to see me. I went to the door and my eyes had widened in surprise, when he had immediately knelt down before me, holding my left hand in his.

"Rosie Gwen Darson, I have known you since our parents first introduced us, when we were four years old. I still remember feeling different around you than any other girls. Even now, I had never felt anything remotely similar to the way I feel for you.

"I want to grow old with you. I want to feel the joy of having our children grow up and leave home. I want to learn every one of your strange habits and want to be the reason you wake up with a smile on your face.

"All in all, I just wanted to ask if you would be willing to deal with my impromptu ideas and irrational behaviors for the rest of your life. Would you do me the honor of saying you'd be Rosie Gwen Thompson?" I had choked out my answer, sobbing, and he wrapped his arms around me.

Sliding on the ring, he said to me, "We'll have the wedding when I'm back." As I think of these things, I come to the bitter realization. Christopher Kingsley Thompson is gone. My Chris was gone. My fiancé. My friend. I sink down, onto the kitchen floor, and begin to weep. Silent tears turn into gut racking sobs. Holding my stomach, I wrap my arms around myself for what may be hours. Finally, sleep overcomes me and I am given a dreamless night.

It's week later and I have created a system- a routine. I wake up in a lonely bed, wrapped up in Chris's clothing. I make breakfast and think of the ridiculous conversations we'd had there. Then, I'd go to work, pretending that I am still human inside, with a functioning heart and hopeful soul. Lastly, I'd come home, eat a silent dinner, and prepare for another lonely night.

It was exactly a week later that his parent had made the funeral and a week later that I had broke down once again. I had spoken a speech- a short one, since our secrets and memories are meant to stay with us- and we read off the will. I was left with everything.

All of his money- all that compensated for his time in the military- , all of his prized collectables, and all of his estate, which he apparently gained from the military. A single tear fell from my eye as everyone else gave me looks of pity. Finally, we buried him.

Our families left an hour after his friends and the others had already gone, but I stayed there. Even when he was alive, Chris knew that when I had something to say to him, I'd say it to him and him only. As I sat on the ground, criss-crossed like a child, I stared at his grave, looking at it as if he were looking back at me.

"Chris," I started," You are the biggest idiot I've ever known. Why did you have to be the hero? Why did you have to try to make things perfect? Why did you have to leave me? I'm a mess without you, Chris. A mess. You promised me that you'd come back in one piece, and I know you were always one for loopholes, but this is not the time!

"Chris, I love you! I have since I was a naive little ten year old girl, and I never stopped. We were meant to grow old together. We were meant to stand by each other. We were meant to watch our children grow up from a bump to an adult." By this point, I am sobbing again.

"Why did you have to leave? I had so much to tell you! I finally got the promotion we needed! Your mom and dad canceled their divorce! I even had started making wedding plans- nothing serious, just ideas of what I wanted and so on." I stood up, and brushed the tears away.

"I wanted to save this until you came back, until you had the chance to see the glowing plus sign for yourself, but Chris, you were going to be a father. I'm seven months pregnant and you were going to have two beautiful twins. Now Mia and Samuel will never be able to see you in person. I love you so much, Chris, but it would be so much easier for me to hate you instead." I walk away from his grave with my eyes downcast.

Right before I reach my car, I bump into someone. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he says, looking into my eyes. His are an entrancing and honest brown. The man is about my age- around nineteen years old- and almost as handsome as Chris.

Before I get into the car, he grabs my hand... Sparks. Slight, dulled sparks, but sparks nonetheless. I had only ever felt those with Chris. I look back at the man and he rubs the back if his neck nervously. "I...uh.I know what you're going through. My girlfriend just died, last year, of cancer. This is probably a little strange for you, but here."

He writes his number onto a sheet of paper and hand it to me, closing my hand around it. "Grace always said to live and move on... Anyways, Call me if you want to have coffee, some time. I think it will take your mid off things. How's that sound?" "Well..."

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So how's that for a cliffhanger? I want you to decide what she should say or what she should do. I'm not really going base a whole story off of it, but it does make a pretty good debate.

Luv ya, my hopeless romantics

~Camzies

(Your fellow hopeless romantic)