You are the illness I will never cure. You are the poem I will never write. You are the thought I will never finish. You are the text I will never read. - Maria Elena.
In between he saw her images reaching out for him - she was running, laughing like a vibrant happy child, and the next moment, she was crying out his name, the voice was shrieking and terrifying. She was engulfed within the thick white fog and she tried to reach out his hand, calling his name for help. He couldn't find her. "Mary! Mary!" he shouted repeatedly. He heard something faintly, "Goodbye Francis. I always love you". He was panicked, sweating, heart beating faster and tried to reach her,"No, don't leave me!" He saw her image, falling at the edge of the cliff...
Toby startled and woke up from his nightmare. He was sweating and felt a little bit shortness of breath. Then he felt relieved, it was just a bad dream. He reached out his phone, it was 5 am in the morning and the house was very quiet. He went to bed very early before, avoiding interaction with the guests. And now he was the only one woke up that early cold morning.
He jumped out from his bed, put on his sweatshirts and picked up his phone. He walked quietly through the hallway of the second floor and the stairs. He peek at the living room, no one was around and there was leftover of food and drinks on the table. His mom probably too tired to clean everything.
He walked toward the kitchen which looked a bit tidied. Only the kitchen island was a bit messed up with glasses, plates and towels. Toby felt guilty, he should help his mom. But he felt it was too cold to do that now.
He searched his favorite mug, picked a tea sachet from the shelf - as usual his favorite breakfast tea - and filled it with hot water from the water dispenser and put two cubes of sugar. He opened the fridge, looking for full cream milk but it was already empty. Oh I should get it yesterday. Someone must finish this last night.
He sat on the stool and looked outside the window. All he can see was darkness in the cold winter and snow rimmed on the window panels. His mind drifted to the happy moment he shared with her in Scarborough Bluff to the cold night when he cried miserably in the car. It was mixed emotions that he wouldn't able to erase.
"Toby? You're very early," a soft spoken female voice break the silence. He turned to his right and smiled at her.
"Grandma, you're early," his grandmother nodded and smiled.
"Yes, my routine. It is hard to sleep very much when I'm getting older. Could you get me the teacup from the shelf?"
"Sure. You want me to make you some tea?" Toby picked up the teacup and his grandmother answered, "As usual Toby, you know how I like it"
"You're rather quiet last night. I always thought you're a chatter" Grandmother added. Toby didn't respond, he kept doing his task - making tea. He was feeling miserable last night but he guessed his grandmother could sense it.
"Grandma, we don't have the cream or milk. I can't do the way you like it," Toby said.
"That's OK, my dear. You can't satisfy everyone all the time. You must satisfy what is in your heart first," Toby passed the prepared tea to his grandmother. He was rather a bit puzzled with her remarks. But her grandmother just smiled. She sat next to him in the kitchen.
"I don't understand..."
"You don't have to. You will understand. That's how I understand about love and life. But you must willing to share with the person," His grandmother said calmly while sipping her tea in between. He paused, trying to arrange words in his mind so that it didn't sound like he was having the trouble right there.
"Grandma, how... if this person did not want to be with the person loved her.... Should he left her? .... and be with another woman?" Toby asked, a bit stammered, still staring to the window. He was afraid to pour his heart to his own grandmother, or anyone. Even to the girl. He tried last time, but he sensed rejection and unwillingness. He felt such a coward.
"That's the tricky part, Toby. If you want to be with her, you must be patient. Patience is the essence in love,"
How did she know it is me? I didn't tell her anything...yet
Toby was trying to avoid to be the center of their conversation. Did his mother told anything to her? Did she told their little chit-chat in his trailer? Toby remained quite as a mouse. Carefully tried not to pay much attention.
"Oh Toby. You're silly child. I'm decades older than you. You don't have to pretend." Grandmother smiled at him and caressed his blond curls. He nodded but tried not to have eye contact with her.
"You can tell me anything. You can trust me. Toby, you're always my favorite grandchild. And I won't tell your mother. I promised." She whispered to him. Toby looked at her, trying to get her reassurance. She looked very calm and confident. But still he felt a bit reluctant to share with her. She must sensed he wasn't very much close to his mother.
"I don't know what to tell you, Grandma. I feel I'm losing all the words right now."
"I tell you what Toby - You can always find me when you are ready to share with me" She hugged him from his side. She added, "Believe me, everyone has their own struggles in love"
Toby nodded. His cup was almost emptied.
"Come, watch movies with me," Grandmother suddenly gave a suggestion.
"Right now? It's 5 am in the morning." Toby was surprised.
"Who cares! Everyone in this house is still asleep. You and me - grandma and grandkid time," She laughed heartily. Toby smiled and agreed.
They went to sit in the living room. Toby scrolled in the menu, searching for a movie.
"There. We watch this. I love this movie," Toby stopped at 1970 Love Story. A story about a wealthy Harvard University law student Oliver Barrett IV (Ryan O'Neal) meets Jenny Cavilleri (Ali MacGraw), a middle-class girl who is studying music at Radcliffe College, it's love at first sight.
Like a small kid, he put his head on his grandmother's lap, watching together with her. He couldn't remember whether he had watched it before or not. The story was a simple tragic love story. He wasn't moved at first part of the movie. But by the end, he couldn't hold on his tears.
Love means never have to say you are sorry
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