AN UNEXPECTED VISITANT

A Few Hours Later

24th March, 20??

(The same day)

An Unexpected Visitant.

Dear Dia,

I had dropped my quill. I was done with writing for today and maybe for a number of days because I will need time to process this latest spring of events… until I wasn't.

Surely you must be wondering what happened to get me out of the emotional rollercoaster, I had been in. Well, it wasn't really about what happened, rather it was who happened. Mmhmm, already, I can sense your eagerness through your pages crisping and creasing to my touch, you want every detail of the tea and can barely hold your excitement.

You know I hardly keep things from you. You are my confidante, my most reliable friend made up of leather and pages. In the vault of your pages, I'm free to deposit my deepest and ugliest secrets. So, why wouldn't I tell you?

You remember Liam Denvers, right? The hot athletic god of St. Nicholas High, the dark haired boy who waltzed his way into my heart without even trying. He's the bitch– Mia Hover's Ex and my dream boyfriend. He's nothing like Dylan Blake, the pompous prick who had dumped me simply because I didn't want anything serious.

Sometimes, you would think people would understand, I mean it's called a fling for a reason. Dylan had been a way to forget the pain, in his touches and kisses I lose myself and think of nothing. Not mom's death, dad's absence or how shitty my life was. In those fleeting moments, it's just the thrill of his skin against mine.

I had met the brown-haired boy two years after mom's death. I had just transited to puberty and was still working my way through the changes, my body was experiencing. I would have understood what was happening if Mrs Tara had explained it in more simpler terms than the goose-chase, she had taught the topic.

As much as I don't want to agree to it, but she wasn't wrong in shielding a few details from us. The parts she left out was supposed to be filled by our parents, for a girl– her mom and for a boy– his dad or probably by elder siblings who had gone through the transition. As of then, I was living with grannys and both of them weren't much experts handling a grieving teenager, talk more of educating her on the A and B's of puberty. Don't get me wrong, they truly cared and loved me but I was a quite a handful, then.

Having no elder siblings and living with grannys, I processed the changes from the knowledge I had from books, movies and school– which wasn't much. The part I didn't truly understand was why I felt some kind of way when I looked at Dylan Blake, the brown-haired boy who sat next to me in class.

It was disorienting that for years I have been going to that school, and several months that I have been sitting with him, I never felt that way. It was like something changed overnight. His gray eyes suddenly became alluring, his smile– so captivating, his gaze– so hinging, his brown hair– so hot, everything about him just became intoxicating.

I would go to school and look forward to sitting with him. Just a few stolen glances at him was enough to make my day and before long I started wondering what will happen if I had more than that. At night, I would dream of his face, the color of his eyes and the way they turned silver in the light. I would make up conversations we never had, how he would ask me out and I would play hard to get until his persistence would win me over.

Thinking about these things gave me flitters in my stomach, it sometimes made my skin tingle and certain parts of my body… tight. I didn't understand it but I longed for him in ways I was still ignorant of.

Unknown to me, he felt the same way but lacked the courage to tell me. Let's say I wasn't exactly the most approachable person then. It was Diane Dallas, the only friend who could still tolerate me and my bitchy-ass attitude following mom's death, I had told her about what I was feeling and she had looked at me like I was crazy when I said:

"It's nothing really, I doubt he feels the same"

She had drawn back, inclined her head to the right and gave me the what-are-you-saying look before she said;

"Girl, you have no idea. That boy is crazy about you"

Then, it was my turn to give her the same look, she gave me. Bottom line, it turned out she was right, Dylan had a crush on me the same way I did for him. It had taken our talk at the cafeteria a few days later, orchestrated by me and Diane of course, for us to get together. That lasted for six months before he wanted more, more that I couldn't give.

I thought he understood that I wasn't ready for anything serious, how could I– when my heart still lay in fragments. When I still hurt. He was my first attempt at happiness after mom's death, my first shot at boys and it seems a bit naive that I would attempt something serious, at the very first time. Maybe that doesn't make sense but I just couldn't, no matter how much I ached for him.

I know I'm a stone cold bitch for using him to feel the void I was feeling. And yes, there's no excuse for playing with his emotions but I was hurt too. That shit hurt, so much that I almost called him back to accept his condition for us to be a thing. It had taken myriad of courage to see him everyday and pretend that I still don't long for him, nights of tears to do the right thing and never call him back.

Doing the right thing can sometimes feel so wrong that you wonder if it's even the right to do like in the poem I had come across in a copy of St. Nicholas High's 'The Column'. I have no idea who wrote it but the words were exactly as I felt then and I must share it here, maybe one day I will know the Bard behind it.

"They say it's good

To do the right thing

They never say how

Much it hurts

How searing the pain can be

How enveloping the agony is

How strong the shame hits

How teary the eyes can get

When the choice is to be made

And how wrong the right seems"

The above lines had been printed in a column of the school's paper 'The Column' and I had loved it that I copied it also, too bad I didn't get who was behind such great words. These words reflect exactly how it felt then but I had to keep going, had to repress my emotions because it was the right thing to do. I would never had given it my all if I had agreed and I cared enough not to hurt him like that, so I allowed him to dump me.

This entry is already taking much of the past and barely enough of the present. Perhaps one day, I will write more on me and Dylan Blake but for now, let me tell you, Dia about my unexpected visitant.

I was still grieving, still held her letter to my heart, still had tears flowing down my cheeks when I noticed it through the glass panel on the door. The way the nurses giggled behind their clipboards as they hurried on. The cheers and buzz I could hear faintly from the lobby. The sudden appearance of the janitor in the halls and the way he swept across my view with new found enthusiasm and a smile spread across his aging face as opposed to his usual scowl.

My tears froze at this recent developments which I seem to be the only one still in the dark. I was about to walk to the door when I heard a knock and without waiting for a response, dad popped his head in. I barely acknowledged him as he walked in, scrambling as I was to get up and go see what had everyone so wound up, he must be mistaken if he came to tell me rather than allow me to go see for myself. That was what I thought until I heard him clear his throat.

Forced to look at him, I noticed the door was still open and he made no attempt to come any further. He had this weird expression on his face, as if he was trying to tell me something without words. But I wasn't in the mood for any of his games as I practically yelled "WHAT?!!!" when he still made no attempt to tell me what he was doing standing at the door like that with that weird-ass expression on his face.

He had winced at my outburst but he remained mute. Thinking that he was there to help me pack without knowing how to ask, I said;

"Sorry for my outburst… but dad this really isn't the time for standing mute and expecting me to grip whatever you want to tell me through (I had to spread my arms to emphasize my frustration) some wacko expression"

Still trying to do something about the messy state of my hair and robe, I heard it. That voice I would have recognized anywhere even if I was dreaming. That baritone that sends electric tingles crawling all over my skin. The voice owner, metamorphosed like a shadow from Dad's behind and the clothes I was holding dropped in a splatter around my feet.

This person had a grin tugging at his lips as if he was having a hard time trying not to laugh as he raised his hand in a wave and said,

"Hey, Mace"

Moments passed as I just stared unable to believe my eyes, too shocked to utter a word. Then like rousing from a dream, my eyes blinking too fast, I managed;

"Um, hi… hey… What are you doing here?"

While muttering 'shit, shit, shitty shit' under my breath. Stepping away from dad's behind, Liam (Yeah Dia, you heard me right, it was Liam-fucking-Denvers) stood with that devilish smirk that brands his reputation, on one hand, he held a bouquet of hypoallergenic flowers– daffodils, carnations and peonies, arrayed in a simple yet delicate arrangement. On the other hand, he held the box of muffins, he had just collected from the nurse beside him. From the look on the nurse's face, she wasn't exactly happy that he had taken it back.

Of course, it was him, in this quaint little town where everyone knew each other, Liam was a celebrity especially after running that quarterback sneak that brought the winning touchdown for the 'Dodgers' last year.

I had watched that match, he was indeed exceptional. I don't really like watching boys slam into each other for an hour or more. But for him, I had gone, cheering as loud as I could from the bleacher, hoping, praying and wishing he would notice me. His eyes had been on the cheerleading squad particularly on Mia Hover, the head cheerleader and his girlfriend. I should have been there wearing those proud red and black colors of St. Nicholas High cheerleading squad and the Dodgers official cheer team but the lowlife had denied my admittance based on my-stepping-on-her incident. According to her, I was a disaster waiting to happen.

Now this same boy was standing in front of me, he was wearing a blue Nike hoodie, black cargo shorts and retro-inspired kicks completed the look. And I wondered what I did to deserve this sheer luck. Perhaps I shouldn't be quick to conclude, he might have missed the ward number he came here for.

He had been about to answer my question when I blurted out an attempt at a joke to reduce the awkwardness in the room;

"You do know this isn't a classic Bridgerton tale neither are we in 19th century London where you can call upon a lady after her intro to the ton"

Amazingly, he had laughed at that, rich deep sound filling the room with it's vibration. Then he said;

"Is the lady in question demanding my leave because she had had her fair share of callers?"

I was a bit taken by his response cause I never expected him to tag along and there was no way in hell I would be the one to ruin it. So with a smile tugging on my lips and switching to the role proper by placing my hands behind me, I replied;

"Perhaps my Lord would like to explain what took him so long or was he not charmed by my looks?"

"Oh you wound me, my lady. As for your question, for a debutante making her first appearance, you sure left an impression, I was merely bidding my time so I won't appear too desperate… you know that's not really a good look on a gent of noble birth like me"

He had said, while cupping his chest with his right hand as dad had taken the muffins, placed it on the desk where other gifts lay and gently withdrew from the room but not after I shot him the why-didn't-you-say-anything-look and him responding with the I-tried kinda look.

"Surely you know time waits for no man so does a lady who wishes to raise a family, so I ask, Lord Liam, what if another had captured my heart while you dally?" I said with the gentle flair of a well brought up lady.

Gesturing him to come sit beside me by the bed, I sat with my hands heaped on top of each other, looking as innocent as newly birthed baby. I took the flowers he offered as he sat down and I heard him say,

"Of that, I had no doubt. A fair lady like you captures the heart of young broods like me with just a glance. I just hope my lady would weigh her options before walking down the aisle, after all I deserve a chance, don't I– with these looks and all"

Tipping my head to the side in genuine surprise of the weight of his compliment whether false or not, I said;

" Oh you flatter me, my Lord but don't get ahead of yourself. It takes more than good looks and charm to win the heart of a lady"

Feigning impaired by my words, he replied;

"True words my lady, but surely you know charm and good looks matter, and of that I seem to be blessed. Besides I trust my lady to know when the best presents himself"

Perhaps it was the pride in his tone or the words but I decided that our small joke had exceeded it's limit and must therefore be contained as I tossed the dutiful host act away and inquired why he was really there.

Even now as I recollect, his response had been totally unexpected. After shrugging his disappointment that I had cut away the fun, he took a deep breath and explained;

"On the day of your birthday, I had taken back my shift at Jerry's place after years of stepping away to focus on football and other things. I had been there when your stepmom came to finish the payment for your cake, she had been nice to me and I doubt she intentionally tried to kill you– not that you don't already know. (Pause, I still wonder how he knew) I had been minding my business, taking orders and doing my job when I heard a few customers discussing you. Don't act surprised, by now you should know that our town is small and everyone is always in up in each other's asses ( I had smiled as he used that language). After all isn't that place one of your favorite hangouts. I heard them talk about your mom's death, your dad's constant absence, how you had relocated to this town after your dad married Felicia, your stepmom and…"

As if really looking at me for the first time, he made an observation;

" Wait, have you been crying?"

He had made an attempt to touch my cheeks but my stupid reflex had made me flinch away. Trying not to state the obvious, I said;

"It's nothing, do continue"

It was already too late, he had seen the teary letter resting on top of you, Dia on the desk. He had asked if he could, gesturing to the letter and without much deliberation, I had given it to him.

I watched as his eyes travelled the width and length of mom's letter. The way they almost shone with tears after he was done, the way his Adam's apple blobbed as he swallowed time and time again as he read. The way a furrow wrinkled on his forehead as he dipped in thought amidst reading the letter.

After he was done, he handed the letter, stood up, paced a bit while sniffing back the tears I knew clouded those obsidian depths, in a masculine manner that felt like he was just sniffing. When he had successfully pushed back the tears (though I was quite taken by the sight, how and why he has displayed such emotion cause it had been my mom and he didn't even know her, so what's with the tears) he came back to the bed and asked me to tell him about her.

At first, I was reluctant but he had kept pressing until I told him. Summing up my mom and the life she had lived took longer than I thought. In fact, I hadn't even finished when dad opened the door again to tell me it was time to leave. Liam had listened with rapt attention like a guy in a trance. He kept his eyes on me the whole time not interrupting just listening and offering comfort as much as he could with his eyes..

Unfortunately, he had to return to his shift at Jerry's place and I had to start packing. Suddenly taking a break from memory lane, I noticed that the box of chocolate muffins (my favorite especially if it's from Jerry's place) had reduced to crumbs, we had eaten them as I talked about mom. I hadn't even realized how hungry my previous outbreak had left me.

After dad had left, I stopped speaking and he said;

"From the bits I have heard and read in her letter, your mom sure was an amazing woman, one I would have loved to meet and she loved you more than you could comprehend, taking time to draft you a letter in her dying moments is merely a nadir of her love for you. It's more than what most people have (why does this feel like a hint at something now as I recall our discussion) and you should cherish it. I doubt she would want you to cry so please don't do so again, rather honor her by making the most out of your life and the things she taught you. Starting with this your new age, once again happy birthday, Annabel Mace, even though it's belated now."

Thank you, was all I could say after he was done because my heart had suddenly tightened at his words and a small wave of relief perked at my insides. Talking about mom had really helped to dispense the pain and hurt her letter brought. And I owed it to this dark-haired boy sitting beside me.

After that he rose, smiled deeply at me then added,

"Glad I could help and if I'm to be honest, that was the main reason why I came… to help in anyway possible. I don't know but somehow I knew your hospitalization would be a trigger for memories you had wished to bury"

When he saw that my expression and cocked head screamed disbelief, he went on;

"I don't expect you to understand or believe me but perhaps one day after we must've become friends, you will"

A bit taken by his words, I said;

"I appreciate your optimism but I doubt that would be possible, the events of my birthday had turned me into a pariah… and don't you think it would be weird for the most popular boy in school to be seen with the likes of me"

He had shaked his head in disapproval before adding,

"You hardly seem like the kind that would allow such to define her or take the stigma of being the school's pariah. I'm certain you will find your way around it. I must excuse myself now from you, my lady but here's to hoping you would consider my request"

He raised my right hand to his lips before I could protest and brushed a kiss. A kiss so soft and tender like the fluff of a feather.

As he made his way to the door, I stayed transfixed unable to get the feel of his lips and shallow breath on my skin, out of my mind. Almost out of the ward, I found my voice and I joked;

"I am indeed swoon by your kindness, my Lord but by your request you mean which exactly friendship or marriage?"

In an instant, that his famous smirk was back, a foot in the hall and one hand still holding the door handle, he turned, looked at me a bit uncomfortably I must add before he said;

"Lady Mace, allow me to let you in on a secret, the best of marriages starts with friendship, so why don't we start there. Once again, it's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He winked (he fucking winked, Dia what do you think that means) and with the soft latch of the door, he was gone.

I had hurriedly packed my things to meet dad in the lobby silently praying I could get another glance at this my unexpected visitant but when I arrived at the lobby, only the giggles and whispers of the nurses behind the counter was proof he had been there.

I'm at home now writing to you, Dia. It had all felt like a dream and this is my way of reassuring myself that it had been real. I must go now, dad's calling me to come downstairs for a family dinner. I guess we will see how that will turn out…

Bye for now, Dia.