The Choice Of Us

Hearing From His Side

LUIS

Arched brows

High cheekbones

Slender jaw

I had the pleasure of studying English Literature abroad and despite being equipped mentally with numerous words to describe beauty, I always found myself tongue-tied anytime I saw her. The words wound up a jumbled mess in my head when hidden away in the secrecy of my thoughts of her.

She had a fiery spirit that intrigued me exceeding all I thought I knew about her. And deep down I wish I had returned a lot sooner like what Rita suggested to apologize. . .

Many things have happened in my life; I had skeletons that oftentimes howled in my closet to remind me they weren't dead. However, for as long as I could- I'll push them down and ignore it all. But when an unexpected message surfaced, I grew fearful. It was bad enough Tiana hadn't been fond of me because of what happened to her brother, but if she knew. . . Even as I stood in the space of her living-room watching her in a peaceful slumber, I didn't have it in me to finish that sentence. I detested the fact that so much pain had been brought upon her.

She was a sweet soul, didn't turn me away when I showed up on her doorstep at a late hour a bit tipsy and in a state where my rational side had less control than it usually had. Instead of telling me to go to hell she ushered me inside and held me. Her sweet coconut scent had somehow managed to acquaint itself with the fabric of my shirt and I was far from upset about it as a grin stretched across my lips.

I knew all along the initial plan had been to make little contact but the more I saw of her, the more I found myself craving. It drove me to be impulsive, pushing her buttons but I never knew I'd grow to enjoy seeing her angry- but I did.

And yet your own blood inflicted pain on her

That little voice in my head ruined my mood and I eventually stopped staring at her. Choosing to move around and try to find anything to occupy my time or else I'd go back to silently praising her features. I'm sure after my little episode last night; she's deemed me a nut job. The last thing I'd want was to confirm her suspicions by having her wake up and find me looking at her like some weirdo.

Taking in the spacious apartment, it was modest but elegant and I immediately felt comfortable in the place whose very designs and colours gave a clue into the person she was. There were a few photos on the walls of her family, bringing a smile on my face at a particular picture of her as a child. Feeling triumphant at seeing her as a child but slightly disappointed at how adorable she looked in her pig tails as opposed to the embarrassing one of me picking my nose.

Aunt Jeane really took too much pleasure in embarrassing me.

A pleasant floral smell was in the air as I stumbled upon her desk littered with law journals that my eyes passed over.

What did make me surprised was the sight of my manuscript open sitting on her table. Given the amount of highlighting done I could only assume she was taking her duty to critique my work seriously.

Lifting the manuscript to take a closer look another stack of pages fell out from the manuscript. Taking a quick look behind my shoulders to ensure she hadn't woken up, I placed my manuscript on the side and picked up the papers joined together. The minute my eyes landed on the words, my hands as if holding a mind of their own moved to the first page that read Tim's Poetry Book.

Grabbing the chair, I took a seat flipping through the pages, fascinated, curious to learn more about him. The thing about going through an author's work that I've come to find was that you're almost given a glimpse into what goes on in their minds. You learn about what kind of childhood they had without them saying it; learn about their perspective on certain subjects of love or sex- even power.