Silver Lining

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Now elderly, while suffering from Dementia, he tries to remember his adolescence. He can only remember his first and only love, as he lays on his death bed.

Submitted: November 02, 2015

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Submitted: November 02, 2015

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I’m writing this while I wait for my Chemotherapy.

I can remember her, so vividly.

Her smile, her voice, the tear in her eyes. The way she stopped me from doing what I used to do. The way she made me realize that there is beauty in this world, that there is love, that there is a silver lining.

Let me start off by saying, she was that kind of girl where the last thing you would think about was leaving her or just having sex with her. She was beautiful and perfect, not just on the outside but on the inside as well. Sounds cheesy, right? But she was more than just a female, because she had a view on politics, religion and today’s society. She had the most perfect taste in music as she listened to Leonard Cohen and The Smiths, occasionally, John Cale.

Yes, she was one of those nostalgist girls that prefered old over new, because she believed old had more meaning than new. She was that kind of girl that would just look at you or hug you, time would stop for a second and from that moment on, you knew everything was going to be okay, you were going to be alright. She was the kind of girl that would stop all the anger and the pain. She was that kind of girl that would forever hold a place in your heart.

Her name, was Sandy.

I can remember the first day I met her, so perfectly. I was invited to a hall called “The Sombrero”, for a Quinceañera. I was sitting down at my table, wanting to leave. Then, I laid eyes on her, dancing with her friend, to "Pintame" by Elvis Crespo. She danced two stepped. Two bounces on her right foot, then on her left. Her brunette hair swayed side to side with every bounce. She wore a tight white dress, that ended just before her knees. She looked amazing on the outside. Her friend leaned in and whispered something to her. Then she turned and looked right at me. The beauty I saw in her eyes, was unbelievable. I felt embarrassed as she walked towards me. She asked me if I wanted to dance but I came up with a bogus excuse that my legs hurting from weight lifting. She didn’t take no for an answer, as she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dance floor. Truth is, I never knew how to dance. But in this moment, with her, it came to me as if I was meant for it. I began swaying my hips to the rhythm of “Intentalo”. We never left the dance floor until it was time for her to leave. We sat at a table near the exit as she called her parents. Truth be told, I had severe issues before I met her. I lifted up my sleeves on my button up shirt and she noticed my scars. She turned away from me for a second, then looked back at me with a tear in her eyes and told me:

“I know you’re hurt. I can see it in your eyes. I understand.”

She gently touched my scar-filled wrist, then gave me a kiss on the cheek, and a long, tight hug. From that moment on, that little gesture, made me feel safe, made me feel understood, made me feel like I was finally going to be okay. She grabbed my phone and I didn’t mind. She took a few pictures and typed for a few seconds, until she gave it back. She told me her parents were outside. I walked her out, hugged her and she whispered into my ear, “check your phone." So, I did. There she was, three separate pictures of her: one as my lock screen, one as my home screen and one as her contact. I texted her that whole night, eventually getting a call from her at midnight. We talked about what school we went to, what grade we were in, what city we were from, etc. I suddenly realized, I knew nothing about her, except for her name, but I was madly in love with her. Turns out, she lives a couple cities over, she’s one year older than me, and she's ranked second in her class. Impressive, right? Before we both fell asleep on the phone, she sang “Suzanne” by Leonard Cohen, in a perfect half asleep voice, soft as can be, making the song more beautiful than it already was. With almost closed eyes, I turned my head to the clock on my nightstand, which read 5 AM.

This went on for several months. We only met once more at a Barnes and Noble to drink coffee and talk about current books. We talked about how a few books were completely overrated and how John Green emphasizes the theme of loneliness and silver linings. Our own interpretation, of course.

“Paper Towns, for example,” she said, “ends with Margo not being with Quentin, but Quentin still finding a way to cope with that loss and feel as if, what was taken from him was just as good as it was from the time it was given to him.”

This was her first hint. I think that statement was a hint that things wouldn’t turn out the way I dreamt or felt it would be. These hints I saw throughout the course of a few months. She took her time replying, she hardly called, she slowly distanced herself. I knew what was going to happen, and I dreaded it. Eventually, one day, she left. Without a text or a trace, nothing was said. Days passed with me constantly checking my phone, waiting for her response and it never came. This is when I knew things weren’t always what they seemed to be or what they seemed like they were going to be. Just like Margo and Quentin from Paper Towns, just like Inman and Ada from Cold Mountain. Loneliness hit hard as I came to the realization that, if she ever felt the way I felt for her, she would have never left. There was never a perfect girl. There was never a lovey dovey ending, where the two lovers ride into the sunset. Eventually, just as Quentin, I felt as if, what was taken from me was just as good as it was from the time it was given to me.

After a while, I suffered from depression and spent most of my time locked up in my room. I remember peering outside of my window, to see her, outside, smiling, waving at me. Sometimes, I would see her drinking coffee and discussing books, the way we did, but with someone else. This was just my imagination. Sometimes though, to this day, I can hear her, singing "Suzanne", in a perfect half asleep voice, making the song even more beautiful than it already was.

Getting older, I was diagnosed with Lung Cancer at a late stage. After a few Chemotherapy sessions, I felt confused and began forgetting small things. I was then, diagnosed with dementia. I can’t remember the faces of my brothers or the faces of my parents, but I can remember her. The exact moment I met her, the music that played and everything that happened after. I remember how it was honestly, the best and worst thing that ever happened to me. Sometimes, in the hospital, I catch myself dancing to the music that played the night I met her, that now constantly plays in my head. Sometimes, I see her, in front of me, in her tight white dress, dancing with me. Two bounces on her right foot, then on her left. Sometimes, I catch myself smiling as I remember her, as perfect as she once was. I just hope, wherever she is now, whatever she’s doing now, I hope she’s happy because she deserves it and I hope she found her silver lining as Quentin and I did.

Let me end off by saying, she was that kind of girl where the last thing you would think about was leaving her or just having sex with her. She was beautiful and perfect, not just on the outside but on the inside as well. Sounds cheesy, right? But she was more than just a female, because she had a view on politics, religion and today’s society. She had the most perfect taste in music as she listened to Leonard Cohen and The Smiths, occasionally, John Cale.

Yes, she was one of those nostalgist girls that prefered old over new, because she believed old had more meaning than new. She was that kind of girl that would just look at you or hug you, time would stop for a second and from that moment on, you knew everything was going to be okay, you were going to be alright. She was the kind of girl that would stop all the anger and the pain. She was that kind of girl that would forever hold a place in your heart.

Her name, was Sandy.

I loved you and I will always love you.


© Copyright 2018 Erick Inzunza. All rights reserved.

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