amandamariaa - Tumblr blog

amandamariaa · 3 years ago

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First Love / Late Spring

" 胸がはち切れそうで ( my chest is about to burst ) "

NOW

This is it. I’m dying. All alone on my bathroom floor. My sister will find me laying on these cold tiles that my dog sometimes peed on. Now that I’m thinking about possibly laying on dog piss, I feel sicker.

The metallic smell of my blood and the sweet perfume of daisies is going straight to my nose and it’s disgusting. A wave of nausea washes over me as I bend over the toilet, retching.

God. This sucks and it hurts. Dying sounds like the better option right now. I can feel the petals sticking on the back of my throat. It’s so itchy. I want to shove my hand down my throat so I could pull out these flowers that have been growing in my lungs for god knows how long.

Now, I can’t breathe.

I hate this.

I try to inhale but only a sharp pain runs through my chest. I try taking another deep breath but I can literally feel the stems poking the walls of my lungs.

I retch again and I take a look at my vomit. The ramen I ate this morning, Gatorade, blood, and of course, the white daisy petals. With my blurry vision and rigid jaw, I fish out my phone from my pocket and I search for the right number. Finding it, I call.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

“Oli?”

“Miggy” I close my eyes and attempt another inhale to prevent myself from sobbing. “Please help me”

“Oli are you okay ?” Miguel asked, wariness present in his voice. “What happened?”

“Come over” I croak out. “Now”

“I’ll be there in ten. Stay on the line.” Miguel said but I ended the call anyways. Not wanting for him to hear the awful sounds of vomiting. I bend over again and more petals come out of my lungs. When will this end? I close my eyes and wait for everything to get better.

I don’t know how much time passed but at some point, Miguel got himself in the house and now I can hear his urgent footsteps getting louder. I took a peek and saw his trainers. He didn’t even bother to remove his shoes, what a menace.

“Oh my god,” He whispers, still outside my bathroom. He is probably taking in the sight: my sweat-drenched clothes, disheveled hair, blood splatters, and of course, the flowers in my toilet.

He crouches down and starts rubbing soothing circles on my back.

“You look horrible.” Miguel points out the obvious.

“Tell me something I don’t know” I try to force out a laugh but it only made my lungs hurt more.

“Is that all of it?” He asks, pertaining to the daisies.

“I don’t know. For today, I guess” I say, barely a whisper. My body is aching and I feel lightheaded.

“Since when, Oliver?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

I was now leaning on the bathtub wall. With heavy lids, I finally opened my eyes. “Not sure,” I said. But I was lying. I do know when this got worse:

I was crouching over the toilet in the bathroom airplane and I cough until I was breathless. Something is trapped inside my throat, like bile that refuses to fully rise.

Suddenly, I’m puking. Miles above the ground. It never got this bad.

I never knew that it was that bad.

“I’m going to get water.” He stood up and walked out of my bathroom.

Counting the time that Miguel took water, I try to breathe. Oxygen comes, although difficult, But I’ll take what I can get.

I’ll take what I can get. Ha. Look at where that led me. I’m one vomit away from being 6 ft underground.

When Miguel finally came back he sits down on the (probably) dog pissed-covered floor beside me and hands me the glass of water. I manage to swallow the liquid even if my throat burns but I force it down.

Miguel’s looking at me. He sighs “Who is it?”

Somehow, I felt that he knew already. Maybe he just needs confirmation.

“Isiah,” I say.

“I’m sorry. Will you get surgery?” he asks and I shake my head no.

He didn’t look surprised. Just sad.

I would be too.

THEN

I was 7 when I met him.

It was at the beginning of Spring and a host of daisies were scattered all around the playground. I picked two. One to put behind my ear like how my mom does it, and one to bring home.

I sat down on the swings and then I saw two kids heading towards me. Before I knew it, I was down on the dirt.

“Are you gay?” The bigger bald kid said. “Flowers are for girls only”

“He is gay” the scrawny one added. Tears began to pool in my eyes and my palms started to sting from the fall. I didn’t even know what gay meant.

“Now you’re crying? You’re definitely ga—” Before the bald kid finished his sentence, I felt a presence in front of me. He was now between the two kids and me. I closed my eyes and waited for a kick or a hit to come, but nothing came. Instead, he was shouting at them telling them that “being gay isn’t a bad thing.” His voice was hoarse and a bit deeper than mine.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, still refraining from opening my eyes, I stayed still. Then, he shook my shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?” His voice was softer now. I finally looked up at him and saw the greenest eyes. His face showed obvious concern but I still wasn’t talking. He turned around and ran towards the bush of daisies to pick one. He gave it to me. “Here you go. I beat up the bad guys already” But I knew it was the other way around. He had a small scratch on his cheek and his clothes were covered in dirt. I had no idea why this strange boy with weird hair, and pretty eyes was giving me a flower.

“Take it” His arm was still stretched out towards me. He then sat down and shoved the flower on my chest. “Here. My arm’s getting tired.” I took the flower, dusted my hands, and stuck my chin on my knees.

We were sitting in silence.

I pulled out a flimsy daisy from my pocket and handed it to him.

“Thank you.”

NOW

“This place hasn’t changed at all” Isiah remarks, scanning the playground.

I look around, running my fingers over the rusted bars on the swing set. I recall how this place looked like. As a child, this was my favorite place where I met my favorite person. It held a lot of memories in which some I wanted to forget.

“Yeah” I tighten the scarf around my neck , now covering half of my face so if somehow some petals come out, Isiah wouldn’t see.

It’s been 2 weeks since the vomit fest. Breathing became a really hard chore, my lungs are incapable of intaking the oxygen my body needs. But I breathe, so that’s enough. I constantly go into a coughing fit and my throat stings. I prefer this over being bent over a toilet for half an hour, spitting blood.

“When did you come home?” He asks but he isn’t looking at me, he’s mindlessly staring at the bush of daisies.

“2 months ago.”

“Oh,” His reply is short and bleak. I couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know that I returned from Argentina. Isiah had to hear it from one of our old teammates.

“You should’ve told me” He quietly says.

“Sorry, it slipped my mind.” It didn’t, of course. In fact, it’s the only thing that has been pestering my mind. But I knew better, seeing him would make my condition worse.

“How long has it been since we’ve been here?” Isiah idly kicks the rocks

I pretend that I’m trying to remember as if I don’t spend all the time we spent apart counting the days. “7 years”

I force out a small laugh although it only burned my throat. I try to cough to ease the pain but white petals came out. Not right now, please.

Isiah walks toward the swing and takes his place. Right next to him, I take a similar swing. Sitting next to him felt as familiar as it did all those years ago.

We’re both 26 now. Isiah’s an athletic trainer. Working for the USA’s national volleyball team. I never really knew why he chose to work for volleyball players instead of being one. I remember Miguel mentioning that he carried the guilt of the losing point on our last match as a team. I, on the other hand, am playing for the Argentina team. Doing all the things I love like traveling, playing volleyball, and all the things I hate like being apart from Isiah.

“7 years… Are we really getting that old?”, Isiah chuckles.

“7 years isn’t that long, Isa” I roll my eyes at him. “And, we’re not old”

“Well, I do feel like it.” I do, too. I feel ancient. Moving to Argentina at the age of 19 was overwhelming and lonely. Time moves excruciatingly slow when you’re alone.

I look at the bush of daisies. “Remember when we first met, you beat up those kids,” I say, putting emphasis on the beat. “I do. Those kids were annoying”

“You didn’t actually beat them up, did you? You had that ugly scratch on your cheek, I think. and you were covered in dirt”

Isiah didn’t answer, he only smiles at the memory.

“Isa, always playing the hero. So stubborn and full of pride” I say, half-joking. His pride and stubbornness got us here.

“You were a crybaby” He states.

“I was 7, Isa, and they pushed me” We laugh at that. Then, he finally meets my gaze. We meet each other’s eyes for the first time in 7 years.

Like all the other times that I looked at him, everything fell right into place. He feels so much like home. And I missed this. Missed the feeling of familiarity and safety. That even though everything else seems scary, at least you have this one person beside you.

“I missed you, you know that?” Isiah says, speaking my thoughts.

“I know, Isa. Who wouldn’t” I playfully roll my eyes at him.

“Never really had a best friend back in California”

Of course. A Best friend. That’s where it ends.

I cough into my scarf again, petals fall from my mouth. “Me too.”

He looks away. And starts kicking the rocks again. I take him all in. A lot has changed. His skin got tanner and he looks buffer. His eyes were still as green as I remember it when I first saw his eyes at this very same park when I was 7.

I look at him with longing because this is the only thing I know. The only thing the universe allowed me to do. Because fate isn’t always kind to us.

THEN

I knew exactly when it happened. When I realized that I was going to be a big cliché and fall in love with my best friend.

I was 14 and like everything that revolves around Isiah, it happened during Spring.

My friends, Miguel, Ivan, Isiah, and I, were taking a break from biking at the park. I sat on the swing and the three of them were sitting on the ground. The day was warmer than usual so we were all sweating and the sun was burning our skin. “It’s so hot,” Ivan said, raising his water bottle to his lips.

“Who said it was a great idea to go riding today?” Miguel asked all of us and Isiah looked at me.

“I didn’t know it would get this hot” I raised my hands in defense and they all groaned.

Miguel wiped his sweat-drenched face with his shirt and said, “Give me some of your water.” His hands were stretched towards Ivan.

Ivan, then, took a swig of his water, gurgled it, spat it back into the bottle, and splashed it at Miguel.

“You’re disgusting!” Miguel shouted and stood up. It was indeed, gross and unhygienic. They chased each other around the park.

My gaze turned to Isiah. His head was thrown back in laughter and his hands were on his stomach. As if his friends chasing each other was the funniest thing in the world. But my eyes lingered too long and he suddenly glowed too brightly for my eyes.

I didn’t realize how long I was staring at him until he looked back at me. At that very moment, I felt like we were suspended in time.

The movies weren’t wrong when they say that the rest of the world gets blurry when you finally see the person you love. It was like our friends weren’t shouting and chasing each other, like the kids on the slide weren’t laughing too loud, like dogs weren’t barking just a few feet away from us.

Isiah looked at me. He gave me a small smile.

Just like that, time stopped and I was doomed.

He threw a rock in my direction. “Oi, what are you looking at”

You. I wanted to say. When did you become so beautiful?

Instead, I pinched my nose. “You’re smelly, Isa”

“Well, that’s what happens when you sweat. You look like a wet dog”

“That’s mean” I fake pouted. I didn’t even realize that Ivan and Miguel were now sitting on the ground again, sweatier than before.

The three of them were lost in a conversation about something that didn’t interest me. I took one last glance at Isiah. His brows were furrowed, sweat dripping on his forehead, and my heartbeat too fast.

I thought that my crush on Isiah would fade away like every other guy I liked.

But it didn’t because 2 years after that, I was helping Isiah bake cookies for his girlfriend and it hurts like hell.

I was aggressively stirring the batter while he preheated the oven. “Do you think she’ll like this?” He asks, sitting on the counter.

I stopped stirring and took a deep breath. “Of course, Isa. I’ll throw this at her if she doesn’t” I’ll still throw this at her if she did

“Stop you’re being mean” He threw a single chocolate chip at me. “You know I really like her, Oli”

Of course, I knew. He talked about her non-stop. I didn’t even know why I was so jealous of her. I knew that Isiah was straight so girlfriend or no girlfriend, I wouldn’t stand a chance. “I know. That’s why I’m helping you bake these”

And I would do anything for you. You want my bones? Take it I don’t need them. You want my heart? It’s already yours, Isa.

Their relationship ended a few months after that. She broke up with him because Isiah was “too busy” with volleyball. I’d be lying if I said that I was upset over their break-up. I mean, I was sad for him though because that’s what you’re supposed to feel when you’re best friend is going through a break-up. And that’s what I was—his best friend, nothing more.

He was still clueless about my feelings, though and I liked to keep it that way. I don’t want to risk what we had for something that was out of my reach. And besides, he was straight.

Isiah was in the center of my axis. I was always gravitating towards him and everything that reminded me of him. I wonder if I knew him more than I knew himself.

There were times that I thought that maybe, we were possible. Sometimes, our hugs would last a little longer, or he would lean his head on my shoulder or fall asleep on my lap. Or when he mindlessly played with my hands and stroke my hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. In instances like these, I like to pretend that we could do this every day like it could become a routine but I knew better than to get my hopes up on something simply unattainable.

Volleyball was a big part of Isiah and I. On the court, we were unstoppable. We were a duo that nobody would bother to mess around with. We were each other’s rock.

He doesn’t know this, but I was advised to stop playing volleyball when I broke my knee. I debated on it but I didn’t want to lose the time I spend with Isiah when we were ourselves the most. All he knew about the knee was I needed to rest for a while, nothing serious.

He took care of me for 2 weeks. He bought me the medicine I needed, drove me everywhere, and even cooked ramen for me when my mom and sister weren’t home. His ramen didn’t taste like ramen but I always told him that it was good because the smile I would get after was rewarding.

We were sitting on the swings and I was massaging my knee when he said,

“Are you sure you could still play?” The concern is evident in his voice.

“Yes, Isa. Now stop asking because it’s getting annoying” I rolled my eyes at him

“Are you sure you’re not doing this for me?”

I was about to laugh but I looked at him, He was serious.

“You’re so conceited. Get over yourself, Isa” I now let out my laugh. Not at him, but at me. On how much I’m willing to sacrifice just to spend more time with him.

That the only direction I was willing to walk on was whatever path lead to Isiah.

NOW

“Hey” Isiah swings sidewards, bumping into my swing.

“mm?”

“Remember that knee injury you had?” He asks me.

“Yeah. It was pretty bad. You kept feeding me ramen” I finally find an excuse to laugh so the bitter petals that deposited on my mouth would fall into my scarf.

“You were lying, weren’t you? At that level of injury, you’d have to quit playing so your knee could get better and heal properly”

I freeze. I sometimes forget that he’s an athletic trainer and he knows this type of stuff.

“You know I couldn’t give up volleyball, Isa” and losing volleyball would mean that I’d lose you, too.

“You’re stupid, Oli” He mumbles.

“You gave me daisies, though” I smile at the memory of him giving me a bouquet of daisies the first day I practiced with an injured knee.

“Really? I don’t remember” He says. I pretend that his forgetting didn’t sting.

“Been what,? 9 years ago? Everything’s so blurry now” Isiah adds.

A lot of things 10 years ago were blurry for me but Isiah isn’t one of them.

He remained clear in my memory. Everything about him was vivid.

We were quiet for a while until I break the silence with a nasty cough. It went on for a solid minute, my coughing. It got so bad that I had to stand up and walk away from swings, away from Isiah.

I was coughing into my scarf and a whole flower came out of my mouth. And it was covered with my spit and blood.

“Hey, you okay?” Isiah put his hands on my back and rubbed it soothingly the way he always does. He then hands me a bottle of water. “Here. Are you catching a cold?” he asks.

I was trying my best to turn away from him so he won’t be able to see my face and the blood-splattered scarf.

“Yeah, I need to let this out. Don’t come near me if you don’t want to get infected” My voice was hoarse and my throat burned again. Isiah backs away from me and I pretended to cough some more as I readjusted my scarf so the blood won’t show.

After that horrible coughing fit, I walk back to the swings and act like I wasn’t just about to vomit the same flowers he forgot he gave me all over the park.

“You okay now?” He asks. I nod in response, throat too sore to form a coherent sentence.

We were quiet again. But the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Nothing is ever uncomfortable with Isiah. His mere presence radiates comfort.

“You still kept that scarf?” Isiah asked looking at the gray one I was wearing.

“Of course, Isa. It is so cold in Argentina” I roll my eyes at him and he lets out a loud laugh. The laugh that was reserved for me.

“It’s funny though” He’s catching his breath, now. “That was the last time we sat on these swings, remember?”

“I remember, Isa. How could I forget”

God knows I’ve tried

THEN

The locker room was silent.

The only sound you’d here was the quiet sobs of my teammates. We just lost the Miyagi prefectures preliminary and we weren’t going to compete for the nationals.

I was sitting on the bench, massaging my knee.

Isiah came up to me, “You okay, captain?”

But I wanted to ask him the same thing because his eyes were red and his nose was covered in snot.

“Wipe your nose, Isa” I chuckled and threw him a clean towel. I hated seeing him cry over a game wherein I hit the losing point.

He sat beside me and covered his face with his head. He cried harder. “My spike was horrible, Oli. I’m sorry. Your set was perfect but maybe I miscalculated and hit it too hard and—”

He was rambling and I was aching for him. I can’t allow him to carry the weight of my mistake.

“It wasn’t your fault. Losing’s inevitable, Isa. Don’t blame yourself” I patted his back.

“Now you won’t be able to beat Toshi and we won’t be playing anymore”

“It’s fine. I can beat him when we play at the Olympics” I smiled at him but God, I have never wanted to kiss him as much as I wanted to right at that moment.

A week after that match, I was starting to get offers from prestigious schools here in Japan but what appealed to me the most was the Argentina Men’s Volleyball Team coach offering to train me there.

Could I really do it? Would I really be able to move half the world away while Isiah was still here?

I found myself hiding the offer from him. I didn’t know why, it’s not like he would stop me (even if I wanted him to). In fact, he would encourage me to leave. He’d drag me to the airport himself. He always wanted the best for me.

And somehow, being away from Isiah could be the best for me and my poor heart. Maybe I’d meet a new guy there, forget Isiah, and finally get over the love that was never given to me in the first place.

Maybe he’d realize that I’ve been the one all along or he’d miss me enough that he’d fly all the way to Argentina.

Maybe in my absence, even on the other side of the world, he’d quietly give me the kind of love that I’ve been longing for.

I ignored all the maybes in my head and for once, choose myself.

So I email the coach and I tell him that I’m flying to Argentina after graduation.

Isiah and I were sobering up on the swings. We were coming home from the graduation’s after-party and I still haven’t told him that I was moving to Argentina. I decide, in my drunken state of mind, that I’d tell him.

“Isa, I have something to tell you” I kicked his feet with my own.

“What?” He mumbled. “You’re gay? I know Oli”

I rolled my eyes at him, “I know that you know Isa, we’ve had this gay talk multiple times already”

“But you’ve never asked me if I was gay,” He said. I looked at him but his eyes were closed and he was swaying on his swing.

“Well, I’m sorry are you gay?” I let out a small laugh and went along with it, not really taking him seriously because he was obviously recovering from drinking too many beers.

“I think I am, Isa, or maybe what’s that called? Bilingual? Bi something?” My heart stopped, and then, with a hitch, doubled in rate.

“It’s bisexual, stupid” Could Isiah be wanting to confess to me? Could this be the way so I would never have to tell him my feelings because he’s going to tell his first?

“Yeah that. I think I’m that” He was still mumbling his words.

“How could you think that, Isa?” I was slowly talking to him now, I was making sure that he knew what I was saying.

He stood up from the swing and stumbled in front of me. He was now taller and was staring down at me.

“Can I kiss you, Oli?” Isiah asked. “I just want to test it out”

I was too stunned to speak. All I wanted from this night was a farewell talk from Isiah, not a drunken experiment kiss.

“Uhh” The opportunity presented itself so why was I still thinking about it? Because I was leaving the next day and this kiss could probably be the best or worst thing that could happen to me.

But, I was always incapable of any rational thought when it came to Isiah. I falter for him.

“Sure” I nodded. He leaned down and kissed me.

It was short, it was soft, and it was the biggest mistake of my life.

Isiah sat back down on the swings and was quiet for a while. Tears were starting to form in my eyes and I wanted the night to end already.

“Hmm.” Isiah was deep in thought. “You know, I tried imagining that I was kissing Dominic. He’s been bugging my mind for weeks now”

Ouch.

I could hear my heartbreaking.

“Well,” He stretched his legs, “That’s it. I’m straight as a ruler”

My stomach dropped down, down, down. Into the pile of organs that Isiah managed to break in the span of 20 minutes.

“Oh” I looked up so the tears won’t fall. I sniffed.

“Thanks, Oli. No hard feelings right?” I could feel his gaze on me.

I swallowed. Hard. And scratched my eyes so I could wipe my tears.

“Yeah” I force out a laugh “My gaydar wasn’t really sensing you” I joked because this is the only way I could stop myself from completely breaking down.

We were quiet again. Isiah was now humming a random tune to fill in the silence.

“I’m moving to Argentina” I broke the silence with the confession I wanted to talk about in the first place.

“I know,” he says nonchalantly

“You know?!” I said a little too loud.

“Saw it on your laptop, Oli”

“And you’re okay with me leaving?” This time, I didn’t hide my crying and just let my tears flow in hopes that they could seep into the cracks of my broken heart and make it whole again.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it, Oliver?”

“I don’t know? Because we can’t even spend 3 weeks apart and now moving to Argentina which is like, across the globe?” I said a matter of factly.

“Well, if you’re so worried about me why didn’t you tell me in the first place? You didn’t even bother to ask me for my opinion” Isiah looked at me, his own pool of tears was forming in his eyes.

“Would it change anything if I told you?” Please say it would. Tell me that you need me to stay.

“No, Oliver, it won’t. Why does it matter, though? Will stopping you from moving to Argentina change your decision ?” he asked and well, I wanted to say yes but instead, I stayed quiet. “I know it won’t and I won’t be the person to stop you from going pro and possibly playing for a national team”

My heart swelled at that. Of course, he wouldn’t stop me but how do you tell a person that the reason you’re moving away is so you could get over this silly high school crush?

“My issue is, you told everyone but me. That’s not very best friend of you” He wiped his nose.

“Well, kissing isn’t really best friend of you, either” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I wanted to take it back.

He looked at me, a frown on his face “You consented to that, Oli.”

“I know”

“Then what’s your problem?”

I wanted to die. Right there, right then. I prayed to every god up there that the world would swallow me and I’d disappear from the face of this planet.

“Nothing. I didn’t know why I said that” I was avoiding his gaze. I feared that if I look at him, I’d have a meltdown.

Isiah suddenly asked, “Do you like me, Oliver?” My heart stopped beating for the nth time that night.

I wiped my snot with the back of my hand and took a deep breath. You’ve been doing this for years, why break the mask now?

I forced out the loudest laugh I could muster. My hands were on my stomach and I pretend to wipe a tear. “Always so conceited, Isa. You’re delusional”

He rolled his eyes at me and I let my fake laugh die down.

“I’ll miss you, Oliver. And I love you, you know that”

I know, Isiah and that’s why I’m leaving.

I chose whatever path lead me the farthest from Isiah.

NOW

“That was messed up” Isiah chuckles “I really kissed you to see if I was gay?”

“Yeah. You’re an idiot” The laugh I let out is weak as I nod in agreement.

“At least you got the scarf” he said

“It’s the lamest joke ever, Isa. You laughed about your own joke for 3 days straight when we were Skyping”

“How is it not funny to gift you a scarf when moving to a really hot country” He laughs at the memory. It’s such a corny joke but I’d tolerate it if it meant hearing Isiah’s laugh.

“When’d you move to California?” It’s my turn to ask questions.

Hearing about Isiah in California from another person wasn’t the most pleasant feeling. It was on a facetime call with Miguel. He was in California with his girlfriend and he briefly mentioned Isiah:

“-- and Isiah and I went for drinks at the bay”

“Isiah’s in California?”

“Yeah. You didn’t know? He lives near th—oh. He didn’t tell you?”

“No” “I’m sorry, Oli” “It’s fine, forget about it.”

I didn’t forget about it. I felt betrayed and hurt. Moving to California was a big milestone for Isiah, and I wasn’t there to witness it. And maybe not telling him that I was back in Japan was a kind of revenge. Because, yes. I am petty.

“Like, Spring of 2017” He takes a swig of his now warm can of beer I gave him earlier.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d care”, he says.

“You know I would, Isa” concern washes over my face as I look at him. His brows are furrowed and he’s scrunching his nose. A mannerism I noticed he did when he was feeling uncomfortable.

“So how was California?” I try to lighten the conversation but I know how this would end either way.

“It was okay, I guess. A lot hotter” He let out a quiet laugh “I lived near the beach”

“You hate beaches” I genuinely laugh, which obviously led to me spitting petals on my scarf.

“I do. We always stayed there, though”

“No fair. I never got to visit the beaches in Argentina. Never had time” I frown

“I went there once”

My head shoots up at him. This is new information to me. “Argentina?”

“Yeah. Your city. The team trained there for a week or two” He brings his canned beer to his mouth again and takes a sip.

Oh. He went to my city and didn’t tell me. No big deal.

“When?” My voice is quiet. Or maybe it wasn’t. I can’t really hear anything besides my beat-up heartbreaking.

“3 years ago” That wasn’t a long time ago.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I fiddle with my fingers and take all the breaths that my daisy-filled lungs could inhale. I will not cry in front of Isiah.

“I kind of figured that you were busy training. That you didn’t have time” Faster than intended, I say, “You know I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always be making time for you”

But right now, time is what I don’t have enough of.

“Besides, we weren’t really talking”, he says.

“You weren’t talking to me, Isiah”

“I know” he looks down to his feet.

“okay”

“I’m sorry, Isa” he’s sniffling now. “It’s fine”

He looks at me, tears in his eyes, and said, “I’m really sorry, Isiah” “I know. It’s fine”

It’s fine because I was left with no other choice but to be fine with it.

He looks back at the bushes, “I’m sorry”, he says. For the final time.

“shut up”

It’s quiet again.

He’s grieving for the time we wasted,

I’m grieving for love that time didn’t give a chance to.

THEN

The way we drifted apart wasn’t abrupt.

When I moved to the other side of the world and Isiah stayed in Japan for college, all that was left of us was the ghost of what we used to be.

It started with one missed call:

“Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. The number you have dialed is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you’ve finished recording you may hang up, or press one for more options” “Isiah, it’s Oliver. Obviously. Where are you? The funniest thing happened with our coach today. And they’re talking about recruiting that ginger middle blocker? How crazy is that? Break his limbs for me, respectfully. Anyways, call when you’re available, and please change your voicemail. It is too long. Toodles !”

“Hey Oli, sorry I wasn’t able to return your call the other day. I’ve been busy with school”

“It’s fine so remember when I told you tha—”

“Oli, I’m really sorry but it’s like past midnight here and we have finals tomorrow. Can I call you after the exams?”

“Oh. Yeah okay.”

Then it turned into a text left unread:

Sept 12, 2014, 11:10 am

Me: Hey! We haven’t skyped in forever! Let me know when ure avail. Miss ur ugly face xx

Sept 17, 2014, 12:00 am

Isiah: sorry wasn’t able to reply ;(( busy. Miss ure uglier face!

Isiah: Here’s a picture of a cat to make up for it

Isiah: ( 1 image attached )

Sept 17, 2014, 4:03 pm

Me: aw that’s fine. Cute cat :P

October 30, 2014, 1:27 am

Me: Happy Halloween Isa. Remember when we dressed up as Teletubbies? Haha fun times. Miss u

December 25, 2014, 12:00 am

Me: Merry Christmas Isiah! Miss u

January 1, 2015, 12:01 am

Isiah: Happy Holidays Oli. Miss u

January 1, 2015, 12:03 am

Me: Miss u. did u get a new year’s kiss?

July 20, 2015, 5:43 pm

Isiah: HBD Oli xx

July 20, 2015, 5:50 pm

Me: Thanks x

Until the days became busier and I only got to see glimpses of his life from the rare Instagram posts of his friends.

I got used to the silence, eventually. Because that’s what I always had to do, to get used to it,

As our lives moved on, my feelings for him stayed. Matter of fact, his absence gave my heart a chance to feel more deeply for him.

I didn’t know when it started but at first, I thought it was just a sore throat from drinking too many margaritas but then I coughed.

And coughed.

Coughing and coughing until my eyes watered and I couldn’t breathe.

I spat what I thought was phlegm in the toilet but before flushing it, I took a quick glance and saw blood. Taking a closer look, it wasn’t phlegm, it was a whole flower.

And it was a daisy.

I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and search up “Puking flowers”

He clicked the first website that he saw.

Hanahaki Disease is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

The victim's lungs get filled with flowers and roots grow in their respiratory system. They choke on their own blood and petals and can lead to death.

the flowers can be surgically removed, but the victim will not remember the other party after surgery.

It was a cosmic joke, really. I wonder if whoever was up there was performing some kind of sick mockery. The universe was letting me choose if I’d die or if I’d rather forget Isiah.

That night, my thumbs hovered over his call button too long. Apart of me wanted to call and tell him, Love me, I’M DYING.

But I didn’t want a love that grew out of pity.

So I silently cried. Cried for my mom, cried for my sister.

Cried for Isiah, cried for me. For us.

With a friendship that had a fire burning so fiercely and so bright, the flame within us died down with a quiet flicker.

NOW

“I’m glad you agreed to our meet up despite the everything,” Isiah says

“I’ll never pass up the opportunity to see your ugly face” I kick dirt towards him

We look at each other and like all of those other times, it feels as if we’re suspended in time. Like everything is right in the world. Even it isn’t, even if it will never be.

We were rocking back and forth on the swings. It was always like that with Isiah, constantly rocking back and forth on his axis.

“Are you sure about this, Isa?” I ask, “…marriage is like, a really big decision”

Isiah smiles. A smile that was reserved only for her. “Yeah, I am. It’s been 4 years, you know? I feel like I’m ready”

“I know you’re ready. I’m happy for you, Isiah” I smile at him.

I truly wish I was a better person so I could genuinely say that I’m happy for him. That I’m over the moon that he’s getting married. But I’m terrible. And petty. And jealous. And I want him so bad.

So, so, bad.

“You’ll be the best man, okay? You’re the only one worthy of the title” He said.

“I’ll take note of that, Isa”

Best man. Best friend. That’s what I am. That’s where I need to draw the line.

I cough again, petals coming out of my mouth.

“It’s getting dark, Oli. and I think your cold is catching up on you” Isiah stood up.

“Yeah. Okay,” I stand but I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to leave him. Leave us.

“Are you getting cold?” He was rubbing the sides of my arms, attempting to give me warmth.

“Can I get a hug, Isa?” My voice quivers and my eyes water.

“You big crybaby.” He engulfed me with his warmth. Although I was a few inches taller than him, being in his arms made me feel small. I wanted to stay here. Right, where I am right now.

“Don’t worry, Oli. You won’t lose me again”

But you’ll lose me and I am so sorry, Isa.

We walk to his car. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” Isiah asks.

“I need to pick up a few stuff” I lie. I didn’t want to spend any more time with him.

“I can drive you there” he insists.

“It’s fine” I push him toward the driver’s seat, “Go on then,” I close the door, “go home to your future wife”

Isiah started the engine and rolled down his window, “You sure? You were coughing really bad a while ago” “Isa get out of my face or I’ll cough on you” I roll my eyes.

“Okay. Just, text me when you get home” He rolled up his windows and looked at me.

He gives me a small smile and drives off with half of my wayward heart.

Isiah is now walking towards me, a bouquet in one hand, and a child’s hand on the other.

“Hey, Oli” he sits in front of me. “This is my daughter, Oliver” He smiles at his daughter, a new smile reserved only for her.

“Say hi to your uncle” He gently bumps his feet on her own tiny ones.

She waves at me. You have your father’s green eyes, thank the heavens. She’s tan like Isa and blonde like her mother.

“I named her after you.” He crouches down and puts the bouquet of daisies on my tombstone.

“You’d love her, Oli. She’s sassy. I think she got it from her mom. She’s stubborn, Oli. So, so stubborn like her dad” Isiah pinches her cheek, and she giggles.

“I miss you” He whispers.

He wiped my tombstone and traced over the carved letters:

Oliver Cole Cooper

1995-2021

Hanahaki Disease

a captain, a brother, a friend

A lover. I want to add. A lover who was never given a chance.

I look at Isiah and his daughter walking away. I think of time passing.

Time passing, the world turning, people growing, love persevering, and love failing.

Epilogue

Oliver's POV

I was rummaging through my dad’s junk box where he puts his little trinkets, letters, and

pictures. We were doing this stupid project where I needed to make a type of autobiography for our chosen parent. And since my mom was out of town for the week, I was left with my dad’s unorganized box.

Taking what I think is relevant, I reach the bottom of the pile and see an envelope. I take a closer look and noticed that it was still sealed.

I ran downstairs where I found my dad in the kitchen, “Hey, dad, What’s this?” I lift up the envelope. He takes a quick glance.

“Oh. Those are film pictures from you Uncle Miguel. Never got to open that”

“Can I open it?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

I tore the envelope and saw 5 pictures.

The first one was just my dad standing in front of a swing set.

The second one was my Uncle Miguel and Uncle Ivan with their tongues out.

The third one was just a shot of my dad’s old high school.

The fourth one was a very old picture, I assume. It was the four of them, Uncle Oliver included. They were all huddled together, laughing. I take a look at the back to see if there was a date. “March 3, 2013.” Dad might have been in his last year of high school, then.

The last one was another old picture, but it was just Uncle Oliver and my dad. Dad’s arm was draped over Uncle Oliver’s shoulder, his head thrown back to laughter. Uncle Oliver was just staring at my Dad.

I flip the picture over and see a smudged but still readable note.

Isiah,

I hope this never sees the light of day but I needed to put my thoughts somewhere or I’d explode. I’m in my death bed, I think. Hanahaki Disease isn’t as pretty as it sounds. You’d think that vomiting flowers would be a treat, but it isn’t. It hurts and it, unfortunately, kills you.

There were a lot of times where I looked at you and thought to myself, “I am so lucky to be in love with this person right now” but am i really, though ? Maybe loving you was a blessing and a curse

I’m glad that you finally found the right person I desperately tried to be.

I’m sorry for being selfish, I just can’t afford forgetting the best years of my life

Hopefully, fate is on our side in the next lifetime.

I love you, Isiah, I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.

Oliver

#creative writing #peta3 #12gratitude #Spotify

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