I stayed still outside as I was facing the door of an antique store while staring at a vintage welcome sign. The leaves from the trees above were the only ones that move around me- nobody's here. It was just me and nature in front of this shop and under the morning sky. I sighed deeply and felt a few weights was relieved upon my chest.
I wonder what's behind that door that makes me have these weird feelings. I started to walk near the door then I heard the chime of bells as I opened it. Inside, I saw an old lady on a counter along with two other old people checking out on old kinds of stuff.
As soon as I knew, I was walking through the store on a narrow walking aisle with table displayed on both sides. I was amazed to see the old paintings in elaborately carved frames hanging on the walls, the collectible plates, antique wood cabinets, glittering crystal chandeliers and lamps dangling overhead, and other stuff that makes it look so aesthetic in a vintage way.
I was in the middle of admiring the exotic wood jewelries when my eyes came across a sunlight glimmering off silver and crystal things. I came over there and grabbed the silver necklace with a little moon shaped pendant.
My head started to ache as a flashback played in my mind.
"Riley, why are you giving me this? It's so thoughtful of you but really, I should be the one who's giving you gifts," an innocent looking boy said as he took the box of necklace that I was trying to give him. He seemed to be at the age of eighteen.
"It's just because I love you, Vincent. And I want you to remember that so you always have to wear it," I answered.
It was me. The girl was supposed to be me, but who the hell is Vincent?
I snapped back in reality when I heard a chord ringing out as a customer tests an old guitar. I remained curious of what just happened until I turned my gaze on a piccolo flute. It was just near the necklace earlier and I immediately grabbed it right before I felt that ache in my head again, then a flashback appeared.
"Riley, want me to play you a song?"
I just nodded at him while giving him a smile like there's no tomorrow. I've always loved to hear Vincent play every melody of love songs that we cherish.
He started playing the tunes of the song called Moon River- which is actually perfect for the ambiance as we sit on a bench by the shore. I watched him play as the afternoon wind was blowing his hair, with his eyes closed as if he really wanted to feel every melody that is enough for me to feel the emotions.
I snapped back again but this time, my eyes were teary- I still don't know why. I was breathing so fast as if I was running out of air, but really, it felt like fear. What is happening to me?
"Oh, will you look at that splendid old painting," I heard a customer said then my head turned to where the sound was coming from. It was just also near me, an oil painting of a landscape in a wooden frame. My tears automatically fell down from my eyes as soon as I saw it. Then a flashback haunted me.
"Vincent, this... this painting is for you. As you can see, it's a landscape of a place where we used to hang out." I was just looking at Vincent with my pleading eyes when I said those words.
"Is the painting okay?" I asked.
"Are you kidding me? It's the most perfect painting I've ever seen. Riley, I'm so proud of you!" His face was full of joy and I couldn't help but to hug him so tightly.
"Young lady, are you okay?" I suddenly stopped crying when I noticed the old man waving his hands in front of my face. He also seemed to be a customer here.
"You have been staring at me while I'm holding this book for quite a while, and now you're crying. You want it that bad, eh?"
I was about to tell him otherwise for the reason that it didn't happen because of that book, but the old man handed it to me and I had no words to say. He just went to a display of gilded mirrors worn with age or partly de-silvered. I placed the book back to where it was lying and spent a few more minutes in admiring the store before I decided to go home.
It was a cold night when I fell asleep and dreamed of a dream that soon made me realize that it wasn't just a dream. It was also flashbacks of the moments I had before, the moments I shouldn't be forgetting but why on earth did it fade away in my mind?
I woke up crying so hard as I remembered Vincent, my lover. The man I started to love when we were eighteen, the man I spent moments with for almost five years, the man who made me feel that I wasn't alone despite having no one beside me, who made me realize that not all men are like my abusive father, who gave me love even there's nothing left for him, the man of a great solace.
I remember each bearing moment and emotions worth remembering; how we used to have simple dates by the shore, when he used to play melodies for me with his piccolo flute, when he taught me how paint. Those moments felt like calm waves and relaxing wind of summer.
My heart was shattered into pieces wondering why this all happened. And all those things from the antique store, it was all Vincent's. How did it went there?
As fast as I could, I tried to get to the antique store to at least reminisce more and ask questions to the counter lady about the things. But it was all too late. I went there just to see police cars and firetrucks with unwanted noises.
The antique store was there, but couldn't be recognized. It was burning with such intensity. I watched as fire engulfed it from all sides. The flames burned deep red and amber, almost livid purple as I saw various firefighters trying to put out the fire. They said it all began about an hour ago, when some men broke in, couldn't get what they wanted so they started a fire.
Because of this horrible sight, my knees started to get weak and I couldn't move.
No. No, it can't be.
I remember it all- the day when my abusive father was drunk and started to hit me. The day when my father was planning to rape me-No, why would my he do it to his own daughter?
Vincent was there. He tried to stop my father without knowing that my wicked father would have a gun. I saw it with my own eyes, how the blood trickled down his body from his head- No, my Vincent can't die. He shouldn't die. He's not going to leave me.
I blankly stared at all the things that were happening. It all seem to be a nightmare- I wish it was just a nightmare. My mind couldn't bear absorbing it all. It was horrible. Everything was horrible. I wished I wasn't even born.
That day was the worst day of my life. I hoped that the gun shot I heard was just from the outside. I hoped the dying body that fell from the floor was just another person. I hoped the fire that my father started was just a mere hallucination. I hoped that it was all a dream, but in the back of my mind- I strongly hoped I never had a father like him.
I wish I could turn back time because maybe, maybe I could get things right again. Maybe I could get away from those dreadful memories- but no, it was all too late. Everything seem to be planned to ruin my life as it ruin myself.
This is not real, this shouldn't be real.
I lost the only person that gave me hope in life. The only person who made me realize that love still exist. His life was taken away by the person who also took my hope away from the beginning. Those painful memories are books with chapters that are deep and horrible.
It's all hard to accept and I couldn't find a right way to live while I carry this burden of memories. I am sorry, Vincent. I am deeply sorry for forgetting you.
