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CHRISSIE
On the bus, I turn in my seat to face him.
I pull my legs up and under me, and I am sitting sideways on the chair, my head leaning against the backrest.
His legs are stretched out, in front of him and his head is turned to face me.
He continues softly, I have to strain to hear, it is almost as if he is making a wish, “Late at night, I know for certain I will see you again. One day in the future, we will be together.”
He turns his head toward the front again while I continue staring at his profile. I am trying to carve him into my memory, every wrinkle, every line, and every characteristic. My throat feels tight and sore from holding back my tears.
I stare out of the window, past his profile, staring at nothing, yet everything seems so bright. I can see the brightness of the blue sky, the way the sun reflects off the green leaves, every leaf is different, yet growing together on the big branches of the tree. I see the sun glitter off the shiny speckles on the surface of the road, and I feel the wind from the air conditioner against my skin. It is as if my every feeling and emotion is glaringly raw, finely tuned.
“I will never forget you,” he says suddenly.
“Then don’t let me go,” I beg softly. “We could survive this, couldn’t we?” I ask, hopeful.
He smiles down at me and hugs me tightly to him. “In a different life I would make you stay.”
“Make me stay now.”
“Do you think we could convince our parents that love is the greatest of all? That it does not matter what colour our skin is. Could we convince them love is more important than this?”
“Yes, I think if we persevered, we could,” I say this with a hope and the innocence only someone as young as I could have.
He smiles brilliantly. “Maybe you are right. Maybe we can show them we are together, no matter what they say.”
“I think we should do that. Next week we should go on a date, and this time you will pick me up at home. I will invite you in, and then we take it from there. What do you think?”
“A very bold and brave thing to do, but maybe with determination, we can show them the genuineness of us.” I settle into him and I feel his expectation of a life together, as he puts his arm across my shoulder and holds me tightly to his side.
Too soon, we get back to the bus depot. I arranged with my dad that I would get a lift home, but I did not mention it would be Vincent dropping me off. My dad would have a million reasons of why a hormonal black boy should not drop me off this late at night.
We move all the equipment from the bus into a panel van which Dennis and Simon are going to take home with them.
We load my and Vincent’s bags into his car, and then he opens the door for me to get in.
We drive in silence and when we stop in front of my home, I notice all the lights inside the house are off, so I presume my parents have gone to sleep already.
He puts his arms around me and pulls me closer to his chest, and then he kisses me. I want it to never end. I feel my hormones racing through my body, and I kiss him with every feeling in me, every desperate hope I have, every grain of sadness. His lips move in sync with mine.
A little while later, I pull away slowly to catch my breath, and we laugh together sadly.
I glance up at my house just in time to see the curtain in my parents’ room fall back into place, and fear drapes its dark cloak around me. Despondently I say, “I better go, my parents are still awake.”
“Okay,” he says, smiling sadly.
“I’ll speak to you later and always remember, my heart will belong to you until the end of time and I love you immensely, forever,” I say, as I open the door to get out of the car.
He leans into me, and tenderly he puts his hand on my arm. “I love you, Chrissie. Never again will I use those three words again without being painfully reminded of you.”
I take a deep, deep, deep breath and then I get out of his car. I walk toward my house and then I stand on my porch and smile optimistically as I lift my hand to wave goodbye. He looks at me hopelessly, that familiar frown flashing across his handsome face, and then he drives away.
I turn to my front door nervously. I breathe out slowly, the wind pushing out over my lips and opening the door, I instantly see my dad waiting for me just inside the door. I close my eyes briefly, drawing courage.
His neck and his cheeks are a vivid burgundy colour. I know he is livid, and I am scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he saw, scared of his disappointment in me.
“Chrissie!” He says softly and his voice breaks.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, looking at the floor, trying to placate him, hoping against my better judgement he did not see me kissing Vincent.
“What is going on between you and this Vincent?”
“Nothing. Daddy, we are just together in the band.”
“I saw the way he was looking at you on the bus the day you left.”
I want to smile, because someone else can see the way Vincent looks at me, it is not just my imagination, but I do not. “Daddy, there is nothing going on between us, and I don’t know what you are talking about. Can I go to bed now?”
“Nothing?” He hisses through his lips, “You say nothing! Chrissie, but I saw you kissing him?”
I struggle for a lungful of air.
“Yes!” He continues, “I saw you, you were kissing a black boy, and how many times have I told you it is not supposed to be this way.” He breathes in deeply. “How many times have I told you... I do not want to see you with him again! Did you hear me?”
I feel rebellion pushing up from the pit of my stomach. I want to lash out at him. I want to tell him how stupid he is, how ignorant that he can even see a difference between Vincent and me. I want to ask him if he could not see we are not that different from each other, but I do not. I look at the floor and I say nothing.
He hesitates. “You must obviously really like him, to be able to kiss him and I feel sorry for you because you know of course you will never really be happy. You will always live with the disapproval of all those people who also share your life. Surely, you cannot live in the illusion it will only be the two of you forever because at some point you are going to have to invite other people into your lives. What about your children should you – God forbid – have any?”
Still I say nothing.
“Come on, Chrissie. This is the real world here, not fantasy, not movies – this is how it is.”
I shake my head in agreement. I feel a tear running down my cheek, but I do not lift my hand to wipe it away because then he will know I am crying.
“Go to bed,” he says suddenly. “Just the sight of you repulses me at this moment. We put you in this school and we saw a bright future for you. You are so clever, and now you want to throw everything away by having a fling with a black boy. Go away, before I do something to you, I will regret.”
I turn around and I walk up the stairs to my room.
I close my bedroom door behind me softly and then I sit down on the floor, my back leaning against the door.
I do not have any strength in my legs, not enough to carry me to my bed. I used it all up just walking up the stairs. I push my head in between my pulled-up knees and I cry softly.
Much later, my phone vibrates, and the message is from Vincent: Forever.
I smile and hug the phone tightly to my chest as I fall asleep there where I am sitting. I feel incalculably heart broken.
Through many sleepless nights and many silent tears, I know I will never forget the way he used to smile when he saw me walking to him and the way he said my name. The way he always held me so tenderly as if I could break, even the way my heart sped up painfully when he was near, the way he used to send shock waves through my body every time we touched.
The way I feel the emotion I have for him in the pit of my stomach, like a million tiny fireflies, making me feel excited, yet, nervous all at the same time.
How he sauntered to me, his sexy smile only for me. His green, brooding eyes would look for me when he walked into a room and then focusing on me, only me. I will miss Vincent; I will miss our late afternoons together.
I remember in the beginning how I never noticed him, probably because my mind blocked him out as just another black boy, but how when I did notice him—I could never un-notice him again. How after that day, no matter where I looked his eyes were the eyes, my eyes would meet, a smile automatically spreading across my face, my heart instantaneously feeling a gravitational pull towards him.
I send Vincent a text message: “I am sorry I cannot see you anymore. Even if we decide to stand up now and face everyone, in the distant future, we might end up hating each other for what we caused to each other and our parents – the guilt and the blame would eat slowly at our relationship. To be honest, although I love you, as I don’t think I will ever love another, in the deepest, darkest corners of my heart I doubt our relationship will work at this particular moment in time.”
He replied: “Maybe in a different future when everyone around us lets go of the past, maybe then we could be together. I do not think we are old enough to survive the storm. The hurricane and aftermath of this will drive us apart, but my love for you will always be my weakness.”
Weeks later, I receive a copy of the début CD in the post and smile sadly when I read the little note inside. He did not sign his name; all it says is: ‘I wonder where you are now, and it feels like I haven’t seen you for so long. I miss you so. I give my heart only to you, but sadly, that's all I can give.’
I listen to our song, The Great Divide, repeatedly until I can hear it in my dreams as I sleep.
I will always remember how my feelings for him were so apprehensive in the beginning, innocent and full of hope, but how different they are now, how different it is now, how painful and shockingly aware of the prideful, meanness of the entire human race I am.
The sun will keep setting and it will always rise again. My heart will continue beating the same rhythm, even after I heard it breaking. I will be okay, never the same, but okay.
Sometime in the future, I might sit and wonder whatever happened to him, on those days when he haunts me, when memories flood back. Maybe in the distant future, in another life, we will pass each other and smile politely, even stop and say hello, but then walk on, this love ancient history. We might think back and for a moment, with a heart-breaking smile remember this innocent love, but then we will return to the way life has become, this moment just fading into the past, a memory.
