Another Love Story

Chapter VII: Dilemma

I was up at the crack of dawn. That wasn’t very hard, you shouldn’t be impressed. Remember; I had been up all-night reading Declan’s letters. After finishing his last and final letter, I tried to get some shut eye. But this time it wasn’t the events of the night before that kept me awake. It was all of the things Declan had written to me. What was I supposed to do with this information? What was I to do with the locket? A million thoughts were buzzing through my mind and all at the same time. He had written that he would wait for me, no matter how long it took. Was he still waiting for me after four years? That would be insane, right? Did I want him to still be waiting for me? Was he still in love with me? Did I want him to still be in love with me? I should never have read his letters. Crap. I didn’t mean that, I’m glad I did, I had to. But now those letters are driving me mad. I can’t handle not knowing what they mean today. If they still have any implications today. Does everything that Declan wrote in his letters still apply today or has he moved on. And why am I so focussed on this. Yes, he did save me. Does that mean all is forgotten and forgiven? That I can just let go of how I’ve felt the past four years? Does this change how I feel about him? And how do I feel about him? Did I feel the same about him four years ago? Where do I stand on that matter today? This is what I mean when I say that there are about a million thoughts just flying around in my head. Oh god and what about the locket? I love the locket. It’s perfect. Do I wear it? I really want to. But what does it mean if I wear it? Does it have to mean anything? Why am I getting so worked up over this? Declan wrote those letters four years ago. I’ve never talked to him about those letters, hell, I haven’t talked to him since my father died. I didn’t even really talk to him at the hospital last night either. If my mind spewing out thoughts at this pace, I’ll be insane by lunch. 

So instead of having all of these questions and none of the answers, I should go to the source. I should be asking Declan these questions. After all, he is the only one who can give me the answers that I need. What do I do? I can’t just go to his house and ring the doorbell, can I? It’s been four years. I shouldn’t lose time pondering my next move and so I opened my front door with the intention of running down the street to the Knight’s house. I was going to make it up as I go and see how far I got. Then I realised that I was still wearing my pyjamas and it might be better to put some clothes on. I had already opened my front door and before I could even finish that thought; a boy in a black T-shirt caught my eye. It was Declan, he was sitting out on my front porch. Was he expecting me? Or was this just a coincidence? Was he gathering up the courage to knock on my door or did he predict that I would show up at his house and save me the trouble of the walk?

‘Did you read my letters?’ Declan asked without turning around. 

I admitted that I had and inquired how he knew that it had taken until last night to read them. He just coolly said that he knew me and how stubborn I was. And because of the fact that I had completely and utterly ignored him for the past four years, that that had been a dead give-away. I paused, not sure what to say and if I should reply at all. Declan added that he didn’t hold it against me, but that he couldn’t help but mention it. He still hadn’t turned around to face me. I slowly closed my front door and walked over to the front porch. I sat down next to him. He complimented my bright pink pyjamas and as his hazelnut brown eyes met my crystal blue ones, we both smiled. He said that he knew it would be considered a stupid question, but that he felt that he still had to ask. He inquired about how I was doing. And as the snide hormonal teenager inside of me replied with ‘How do you think I’m doing?’. I immediately apologized and added that he didn’t deserve that. Furthermore, I admitted that I hadn’t thanked him for coming to my rescue. And right thereafter, before he could even get one word in, I asked him why he did it. I explained that I hadn’t done anything to deserve his help, on the contrary. He gazed into my eyes, frowned and said that no one deserves to go through what I had gone through. Declan took my hand and said that it wasn’t just the right thing to do, but that he had always been there for me even if I didn’t want or need him to be. 

As I looked back on my life it was as if I could see a compilation of moments where I had needed or wanted help, and there he was. My father’s funeral. I remember crying a lot and after the service I had gone back to my father’s grave to say a few last words in private, and there were flowers. Come to think of it, they were my favourite; white roses. Declan had put them there. When I thought of more recent events, I realised he had always been there. The night of the party at Josh’s house, after the last day of school. I was drunk as could be, but I do remember seeing him at the party when I was giving the performance of a lifetime on Josh’s kitchen table. The opening night at the carnival, the night I turned seventeen, when I was in the Ferris-wheel with Victor, Declan was in the maze keeping an eye on me. And then. Last night. Declan was there, he had always been there. Just in case I needed him. 

‘So basically, you’ve been stalking me for four years’ I blurted out.

‘Well, if you want to look at it in a creepy and awkward way, then yes.’ Declan replied.

We both giggled. I knew that he wasn’t stalking me, he just couldn’t help but want to keep me safe. How could that be creepy? It’s probably the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. In those four years Declan had been there for me, even when I didn’t want him around. I started to realise that Declan hadn’t let go of my hand. As I looked down at our hands with fingers intertwined, I didn’t feel panicked or uncomfortable. I simply noticed how well my hand seemed to fit into his. Declan put our intertwined hands against his chest, and I could feel his heart pounding. As he pulled me closer, he whispered the words: ‘My heart beats only for you, you know that right?’, and I knew that he was telling the truth. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. I smiled and asked where that left us. Declan let go of my hand and then he asked if he could hug me. Can you believe that. He knew I was in a fragile state after what had happened in the woods. So, he asked for my permission! How considerate. I didn’t answer, I just put my arms around his waist and my let my head rest on his chest. I think we might have sat there like that for ten minutes. Then Declan started to let go, cleared his throat and announced that he had missed me. That he just wanted to be a part of my life again. He added that he hoped that we could pick up where we had left off four years ago. So, he very officially asked if he could be a part of my life again. He suggested that we got to know each other again and go from there. I told him that I liked that plan, kissed him on the cheek, got up and headed back inside the house. Before I could close the door Declan asked, very timidly, if I had also opened the present. I told him that I had and that it was indeed the perfect gift. I ran back outside and kissed him on the other cheek. As I said thank you, I could see that Declan’s cheeks had flushed. I looked him right in his hazelnut brown eyes, smiled and ran back inside. 

As I closed the door for a second time, I saw Declan head towards his house. After only a few steps, he turned around and asked if I needed a ride to school. He quickly explained that it was his understanding that being friends meant that you help each other out. Like with a ride to school. I smiled, nodded yes and shouted that I wanted a bright pink helmet or that there was no way in hell that I would get on his motorcycle. Declan grinned as if he had something up his sleeve, turned back around and headed home. I let the door fall into the lock and I turned around only to find my mother standing there. From the expression on her face, I could tell that she had overheard parts of the conversation I had had with Declan, but that she also had some questions. Or at least that is what the expression on her face said. ‘Spill it’, is al she said. She handed me a hot coco and we plopped down in the couch, and I told her about Declan’s letters that I had read the night before. About the perfect gift he had gotten me for my thirteenth birthday. And about the conversation we had had on the front porch that morning. As the conversation progressed, I couldn’t help but notice that with every word I said, I felt more at ease. It’s weird, but it’s like I started to feel more like myself again. As if there had been a part of me that I had closed down after my father’s death and now it was starting to open up again. It wasn’t like an old wound that is torn open and will leave a nasty scar. No, it was more as if that wound had finally started to heel. I felt a sense of relief that only grew with every word that came out of my mouth, as if a weight was being lifted. My mother could feel it. She said that it had been a long time since she had seen me genuinely happy. That I lit up when I talked about Declan, that I used to lite up like that all the time when I was a child, but that after the accident that was one of the many things that changed. 

I retreated into my room, originally to straighten out my thoughts but in a matter of minutes, my light went out and I was sound asleep. Remember that I had stayed up all night to read Declan’s letters because I had nightmares about the last night of the carnival, and who wouldn’t. I didn’t have any nightmares this time around, the whole Declan thing didn’t seem to keep me awake either. It was already lunch time when my little brother Brad woke me up. As I sat at the lunch table playing with my food instead of eating it, I started to feel the thoughts stream in. They have a way of creeping up on you when you least expect it. Once they started pouring in, they didn’t seem to stop. So many things to figure out. 

The last couple of days had been so eventful and basically traumatizing at times, it all seemed so surreal. What had happened with Victor, it felt so unreal even though I had the battle wounds to prove it had happened. The letters from Declan, that just came across as mental, something that might happen in books and movies, but not in real life. At least not in mine. I wasn’t really sure where to go from here. For me, that’s unusually because I always seem to have things figured out, I always have a plan. And just in case the first plan failed, I always had a backup. I felt lost but wasn’t really that worried. I would even dare to say that I liked being in the dark. Figuratively speaking, obviously. Maybe, rather than dwell on these things, I should let go and see what happens. Trying to control every little thing in my life hasn’t worked out all that well. It was worth a try, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s a rhetorical question, seeing that all possible answers to that particular questions have already happened to me.