Drowning

The love should have been imminent from day one. As children, they were the best of friends; inseparable in all they did. As teenagers, they denied a budding romance, retaining only a platonic, but caring relationship. This continued as they reached adulthood.

But then she deferred.

One humid summer night, he had unknowingly forced her to acknowledge what truly bound them to one another.

He was sitting on the couch opposite hers, but they were so close, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. His voice rang clearly through her drunken fog. What he said may have only been brought on by the liquor, but she found herself enthralled nonetheless.

"It's so bad out there. Death everywhere. There have been so many times when I could've died. You don't even know."

Though he spoke to the crowd in general, he looked directly into her eyes as he spoke; she sat, positively spellbound. Oh, how she longed to reach for him, to hold him and never let go.

The woeful tale continued, illustrating horrible dangers that no one present could ever have imagined. The cruel truth of warfare was something her fragile minds could not wrap around. The more he spoke of his near-death experiences, the more she wished to gather him into her arms.

She smiled then. In her own way, she had held him.

They were outside, having migrated for a breath of fresh air. Smoke clung to the air around them, filling her nostrils. The boys were enjoying those miniature cigars and talking of cars. She only had ears to hear; her tongue was held captive, now that her system was so thoroughly saturated with alcohol.

In all honesty, she was growing tired at that point. Yet, she forced herself to stay coherent. Only for him.

While she listened to the sound of his voice, she began to hum quietly to herself. Swaying to the rhythm of her pointless tune, it wasn't long before she had fallen against him. He did not falter in his besotted rambling, even though her cheek was pressed resolutely between his shoulder blades.

Since no one moved to set her straight again, she remained as she was. She basked in the glow of him, reveled in the warmth of his skin through his shirt. If only he would turn and hold her. A smile flitted across her lips. She could hear him breathing. It was nothing short of pure, simple beauty.

They needed more nights like this.

Pieces had fallen through the holes in her memory by now, but there was one other thing he said that she could recall.

"He's my brother and I do love him.. But if it wasn't for me, he wouldn't be in this. He didn't join the war because he wants to be a hero.. He just doesn't want me to have the spotlight, to have more recognition than him. It's always been like that.."

The honesty of the night and the realization that she could have lost him at any time–that is what aroused the cognizance of her heart. Yes, she loved him. Looking back, she wondered how she could have overlooked it. There was no clearer path than the one now laying before her.

Yet, despite this discernment, the love she felt remained buried and unspoken.

Too soon, he was leaving again for combat. She hugged him with tears in her eyes, but still she could say nothing. As she waved her final goodbyes, she regretted her timidity in leaps and bounds. Oh, if only her tongue would not have failed her. So he flew back across the seas, unaware of her affection for him.

The months passed in their dramatic ways. The blazing warmth gave way to colorful leaves, blown about by wild winds. Then they were pushed aside by the glittery snowbanks of winter; but they soon yielded to the newness of spring. The softest of seasons.

"He's home."

That was the call she received. She had floated on thick, dreamy clouds that sweet vernal day as she readied herself. Great pains to curl the tendrils of her brunette hair. Meticulous detail in choosing her most perfect clothing. Everything done so delicately, so patiently.


The time that followed his return was but a blur. She spent the days reliving her memories, revisiting places they had shared before.

She could have drowned in the love for a young man she had known all her life.

And then, only one last moment before they were forced to part again.

With great care, she tucked a note into the breast pocket of his shirt, brushed a feather-light kiss against his pale cheek and, fighting through a crowd, fled. As she turned from him, the twinkle of a single tear coursed down her cheek.

Eyes followed her as she ran, long hair whipping violently about a face covered by her slim, pale hands. Sobs, initially caught by her throat, tore free as she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

The note, this is what it said:

"I love you. I always have and always will. If only you could have known."

They buried the fallen soldier the next day.