PART I: THE PROPOSAL

 

Everything is almost set and I am only waiting for her to arrive. It has been five years since she left the country and hearing her voice again was the best sign I could give to myself to finally give in- to finally confess what I have been reserving all my life.

 It is almost seven in the evening. I am patiently waiting in front of the keys, temporarily keeping my shivering hands inside my pockets. The letter. I always bring her last letter with me. It is exactly one hundredth among the letters she has given to me since we were kids. We were best friends. We were so close that people thought we were romantically together. But we actually never got in that position, really. But I have to say, that we were almost lovers. Sigh. It could have been better if I did something to drop almost out of the picture.

This is the last- the one hundredth. If I read it now, it could be the one thousandth time. Shall I read it, then? I still have a couple of minutes before she possibly arrives. It would not be a loss of anything if I try to recall how high her emotions were right before she left me for the States, wouldn’t it?

Cursive, she rarely writes in cursive. The letter was written beautifully. I assumed she prepared for this. I am sure that everything that she wrote in here was important and well thought of. The first time I read this, there were still marks of pen, showing how hard she wrote every single word. Those marks were gone now, but I can still feel the regret and disappointment she felt.

 “Dear James,

 I’m sorry, I had to leave. By the time you are reading this letter, I must have left the country already. Forgive me. You are my bestfriend, I know. But I have decided that from now on, I would have to cut you out in my life. My parents wanted to migrate with my sister in the States and I guess it was just the perfect opportunity to do what I had to. I had to leave. I had to leave before I lose what is left with me. I think I have given too much. I have waited too much. And none of too much is ever right.

Sorry, I did not tell you about it. Just like how I kept what I have been hiding for years, now- the fact that I like you, or can I even call love? When I’m hurting everytime I see you with another girl, even girls you do not prefer, you don’t like? When it crushes my heart everytime people see us as lovers and you end up denying it? I knew we never really got there. But do you know the feeling when I had to shut my mouth and utter a different word instead of saying Hey, yes, I like him. And I’m actually hoping that he likes me, too? Do you know that feeling when I look at you, seemingly unaffected by that chemistry people have been teasing us about? I see you, James. And everytime I do, I see that guarded and reserved guy who doesn’t even appear as someone who would really give his heart to any girl. I was your bestfriend. We basically were each other’s side as we grew. I knew everything about you. But unfortunately when it comes to that, I feel like I have always been shut off. You could have even told me the girl you like, couldn’t you? Maybe if I did, it was easier for me to accept things. Accept that you will never like someone like me. Then I could have stayed, and be happy for you.

It sounds so pathetic now, I know. The Ann writing this letter might not be the Ann that you used to know. Well I was thinking, if you have guarded that side of you, I could at least not disclose how I patiently wait for a confession. I was just happy girl, was I not? I was always the one who lightens up your mood. We were always happy when were together. Simply sitting with backs against each other while watching the stars at night, we were both content. But the thing is that I thought that was enough. I thought caring so much for you was enough for you to realize that I was just waiting. I was uncomplainingly waiting for the past ten years of my life. Since we were in grade five, I knew, you were the man I wanted to marry. I wanted you to be the man that I would see when I walk down that isle, holding a bouquet of yellow tulips. For me, you were perfect and you did not even have to try. I have accepted each of your flaws but I still stayed. But no, I recently just accepted the fact that it can never happen. We can never face the altar together. And I’m okay with that. I have to.

I wrote to you for one last time, not to insinuate anything else. Please, don’t look for me. Don’t call me or anything. Please give me the time and freedom, even it was unintentional for you to lock me in a miserable and curbed situation. I just knew that these hallucinations and hopeless dreams have to be terminated to keep myself from hurting. I just had to rant. Who would I do that to? To you, right? My bestfriend? I needed to say this to you because I promised that I won’t lie to you. I never did, aside from this. And since I have decided to just end everything, I thought this is the least thing I could do. To tell you how much you mean to me.

I am still your bestifriend, James. And I will always be. But I can’t promise that I could be right beside you from now on. My heart has been deprived to beat freely, too much. And I know I won’t be able to manage the sight of you again. It just hurts so badly and I don’t know how to cure it. But if ever our paths have to cross once again, please let me hear that voice. Talk. Let me hear that sweet voice you have everytime you sing, again. That sweet voice you have everytime you call my name not like everyone does. Ann, that is music to my ears, I can even hear you right now.

Now I’m afraid I have to end this letter. Farewell, my bestfriend. And I know you would feel different now when I say this. But James, I love you. And I always will.

 Yours,

 Ann”

A pretty long and emotional letter, she wrote- a farewell that crushed my heart for the past five years. But now, it feels different. Hearing her voice, telling me that she was coming back, suddenly gave this letter a different meaning. By it, I felt hope.

“She’s here!” the waiter called.

 All the lights in the restaurant I hired for the night were off except from a dim one, a few inches above the keys of the piano. The place is decorated with yellow and white tulips, her favorites. At the center of the room was a table for two, a dinner that I asked my sister to especially prepare. I knew she will like it. I know she will like it.

 “Thank you,” I hear her voice now. That jovial and endearing voice she used for everybody. I have never met anyone who disliked her. She was everyone’s dear. And everyone has always been a friend to her.

I start playing the piano, knowing that she has started walking toward me as well. My hands are still trembling. But I know I can manage this. I have waited for whole my life and have been delayed for five years. I cannot miss this chance to say those three words with a too.

A drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.

She wants to hear my voice when we meet again, according to her letter. And I know this would be the perfect song to sing for her. Our favorite song. Probably, our theme song.

I don't wanna waste the weekend,
If you don't love me, pretend
A few more hours, then it's time to go.
And as my train rolls down the East coast,
I wonder how you keep warm.
It's too late to cry, too broken to move on.

Finally, I saw her face again. The lights start to illuminate and her face begins glowing. She still looks the same. But tonight, she is incredibly prettier. I wonder if she likes what she is hearing now.

Still I can't let you be,
Most nights I hardly sleep.
Don't take what you don't need, from me.
Just a drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.

This song, the most important in my life, was the one I used to teasingly sing to her. She loves it everytime. Even I lie and tell that it is never going to be for her.

“I still want a guy to sing that song for me, whether you like it or not. It is okay if I don’t hear it. But as long as he’s thinking about me the whole time, it would be amazing,” she said once.

Misplaced trust and old friends,
Never counting the regrets,
By the grace of God, I do not rest at all.
and New England as the leaves change;
The last excuse that I'll claim,
I was a boy who loved a woman like a little girl.

I wish I could have just told her that the song was for her all along. That behind those silly and stupid jokes were sincere truths.

Still I can't let you be,
Most nights I hardly sleep,
Don't take what you don't need, from me.
A drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my

Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no
Heaven doesn't seem far away.
Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no
Heaven doesn't seem far away.

She’s stuck in front of the piano now. Looking at me with her red lips, smiling like a three year old delighted to see a man playing the set of keys. And with that, I take all the past a mere bygone. No more second thoughts. I am speaking after the last line.

It's just a drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.
You are my heaven

The song has concluded and the smile never left her lovely face. “That was great, James. You still sing beautifully, I did not even expect,” she praises me. I stand from the bench and took an extraordinary piece of yellow tulip. Slowly, I take a closer view, a closer position with respect to her.

 “For the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and known,” I offer the flower, returning that good- looking smile she gave me.

“Sweet! Thank you,” she replies gratefully.

The night passes but we’re not even done discussing what happened to her half a year after leaving. She has a lot of stories to tell- stories that I am not part of. But it is getting late and I know, if I don’t do it now, I might lose the courage again.

 “Ann,” I stand, politely and temporarily, if it is even possible, changing the topic of our conversation over a bottle of champagne.

The music starts playing- an instrumental of what I just played and sang earlier. I ask for her hands which I know she would generously give to me. Oh the soft hands I used to touch without malice! Just like a baby’s, hers are ones you would die to hold on forever.

“Can I have this dance?” I ask, giving her a look that would not make her say no.

“You always get me with that, James Reid,” she chuckles charmingly, standing up from the tiffany chair.

“What?” I try to act innocent, hitting a humorous look to lighten up the mood and yes, to relieve myself from tension as well.

She pinches my cheeks, just like the way she used to everytime I act like a kid. There were only a few moments that I use a pout to get something from her, and this only has to be the fifth.

She elegantly put her arms, wrapped with a lacy low- profile gloves, around my shoulder. I remember the junior prom when we went on as dates. She was also wearing her hair up, tied neatly. I know she infrequently does that. But it was one of the moments I did not have to courage to praise her. I was not able to tell her that she looks even more beautiful that way.

“Tonight should be different and special and honest,” I utter in the middle of the dance. She doesn’t let go, but I can see from her face that she is quite confused.

“I have to bring up the letter, Ann,” I start. Suddenly, she steps back, seemingly feeling a bit of discomfort about what I am next to say. But I won’t stop. I have to say everything before I start stuttering and miss this one chance.

“Oh, that was-” “Please, let me talk first. Listen,” I cut her off, much more determined than what I expected myself to be.

“I love you. I know saying that is the most ridiculous way to start a confession but I can’t help it right now. I have always loved you, Ann. And I do not even know how to answer that letter to explain myself. But you have to know that the feeling was mutual all along. I was just taken aback because I thought what we have was enough. I thought I already had that sense of security that you will never belong to someone else because you were already with me. I got too comfortable that I took formality for granted. I was too composed that I did not even ask if you were feeling the same way. I was hoping you were, but I was scared too. I was scared that things may change after I confess. I was terrified about the fact that when I say that I was feeling something more than friendship, I might completely lose you. So I stepped back. I dropped all the courage that I could have had, kept them inside and plainly cherished what we have. But then again I forgot that you are capable of getting tired, too. I accidentally took your feelings for granted. And unfortunately, I only have realized that when you left. When you wrote that letter to me,” I stop. The way her eyes move the whole time bothers me. Is she too surprised?<

“I’m sorry, James but that was a long time ago,” she breaks. I just said almost everything that I could and that would just be her only reply? Well, it is not something that someone line me would like to hear, at this moment.

“But Ann, I know what you meant with that last line. You love me, and I love you too,” I say. I admit, I am panicking, now. I don’t want accept it, but it seems like she is refusing me.

“I love you, Ann. I have always loved you,” trying to get away with her possible refusal, I take the small box from my pocket and desperately open it.<

“I know I was reserved for the past years. And even though we lost our communication, I was hoping that you would come back. And I promised to myself that when that day happens, I would to ask this to you,” I say.

“James,” she calls with an uninviting tone. But I do not mind. I have to ask what I want to. Now.

“Ann Li, will you marry me?” I ask, gently uncovering her right hand. I look at her, smiling desperately and agitatedly waiting for a reply but she doesn’t. I wonder why but she doesn’t seem to be getting or even liking the whole situation, until I get to let her wear the ring.

“It fits perfectly, Ann,” I beamed, happy about how the ring looks great on her. She let me wear it to her. It should be a sign of acceptance.

“James,” she speaks again. This time, however, while uncovering her left hand. Why again?

“James, I can’t marry you,” she takes the ring from her left then my hand, to return it to me.

“I can’t,” she says again, tightly holding her hands against mine. I look down in dismay. I honestly did not see it coming. I thought she loves me? That she will always do? But why is she telling me now that she can’t?

Something shines in the middle of the candle lit dinner. A wedding ring? It is almost a shout inside my mind that my brain could explode. My Ann is married? I ask myself as I try to confirm it. Abruptly, I take her hands, not believing what I am actually staring at. But then again, I am not dreaming. I know what her can’t meant. She is indeed married.

“I am married to Andrew. I met him in New York four years ago,” she says hesitantly now. She might have not perceived the dinner as something that would cater a supposed romantic night that she is throwing each of her words carefully now.

“But you said you love me, didn’t you?” I ask, trying to contain myself.

“Yes, I do. I did love you the way you think now. But James, I am married. With another man. I cannot marry you, you know that,” she explains.

“But what about me? I waited, Ann. I held on to the words that you said. To the feelings that you confessed,” I argue. It is hard to talk now since I know my voice is about to break. But I want to know the reason. I can’t just give up.

“I did not write anything about coming back, James. I even said I could not manage to see you again,” she tried to make me understand her side, I know. But I just simply can’t.

“You did not. I know. But that was how the letter meant to me. You gave your wish, didn’t you? You wanted me to sing that song to you again. Just like how you want the man who loves you to sing it. And you have to know. I swear, the moment I have learned the song, I have always thought about you. That song was for you, Ann,” I reply, a shot that might fix things.

“But James, people change. I wanted to move on, I told you. And that is what happened. It was difficult but I tried. And I made it. Why do you have to do and say all these things to me right now?” she asks.

“Because I have kept them all inside for years!” I give my chest a hard pat.

“And it was hard. To keep it all when I could have told you everything. And that was what I regret the most, that I was not able to tell you when I had all the chance,” I know, in no time, my voice will break.

“Don’t you think I don’t know the feeling? I have written everything in that piece of paper, James. I was deeply hurt and suppressed too. That is why it was written. And that was also to end everything, even those we never had.”

Yes. It is hard to end what we never had. When we are a just a centimeter close to having it.

“You’re the one who told me not to come after you,” I explain

“Don’t you dare take my words against me, now, James. You understand where I was coming from. I never thought you felt the same way. And I was so determined of cutting you out,” she raised her voice, a seldom case during a conversation.

“I am sorry. But please, Ann. I’m begging you. Leave him and come with me. Marry me, Ann. Marry me,” I finally let it all out. Even if I don’t want her to see my crying, I have to. I should not hold myself and not show her what I truly feel.

“It’s too late, James. Ten years before I left, those ten years were enough. We both have had enough. And this missed opportunity just shows that we are not destined to be together,” she tries to let go of my hands.

“ destiny, I love you! Isn’t that enough?” I shouted, losing my control now. Why is hearing it’s too late such a noise in my ears. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to admit it. Because what I only have is hope. And my heart is not ready to be rejected. Especially that I am sure this love is not unrequited- even if she says she has moved on.

“We have loved each other for ten years, James. Was it enough? Did we end up together?” she asks.

But I know what she is talking about. And sadly, I can’t oppose that. Those ten years that I am taking against her right now has been put on a waste. Love is not enough. It will only be if at least one accepts and brings it to words. And that is not what I did.

“I thought I was the only one loving. I thought it was only just me, caring for you so much that I would do anything. You did not have the guts to say anything, James,” she is getting emotional as well, but guarded, this time. I try to get in, but I can’t. She has completely protected herself from me, reading her speaking eyes.

“I know. It was my fault but can’t you give me another chance? Don’t I deserve another chance to prove to you that I am no longer someone who shuts people off?” I try, asking her though I know I am losing now.

“Like I said, it is too late. I cannot leave Andrew. We have tied our vows,” she says, walking toward the table again to get her bag. She opens it and takes a card. An invitation.

“I did not come back because of the letter, James. I came back because I wanted you to be there at my wedding. Because you are still important to me. You’re my bestfriend, aren’t you? You missed it in the States, with the lawyer. So Andrew and I are doing again it on church here,” she gives it to me while wiping her tears.

“I know I am hurting you right now. Trust me, it took years for me to move on, too. But this is what we both have to face. We can’t be together and I’m sorry,” she says right before walking away.

“Ann!” I call for her one last time. A line from her letter, telling me how she loves to hear me call her name, flashes right before me as she turns back with a sad smile. She is keeping it, but I know, there is something she isn’t telling me. It is not hallucination. But I know, I believe, I swear, and I hope… that this is just a show. She still loves me.

“Tell me you love him more than you love me and I’ll come to the wedding,” I challenge her.

Along with the smile she maintains is a tear I am sure dropped from her eyes. “It is going to be on Sunday. I know you are coming and will sing for me,” she replies, leaving me dumbfounded, heartbroken and lost.

 

TO BE CONTINUED....

 

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Song feature: A Drop in the Ocean by Ron Pope