My OperaThis Christmas: I give you my heart
Monday, December 21, 2009 4:00:25 AM
He held her hands, warmed it with the flame fierily burning in his heart, locked them tightly in his, raised them as high as his chest, and uttered these inarticulate words…
***
In the English department of a university small and quiet, this guy stands out as the greatest scorer, for his name always finds a way, a legal and arduous way, to climb onto top of the list, to remain there securely. To eye him at first sight, one would not think he is a student of such knowledge and achievement, for his face is of a silly type and his frame tiny. The truth says this guy has nothing to be written home about apart from his marks.
Also in this department is this girl whose academic success is not as prosperous but whose inner and outer self puts all others’ to shame. She is born with cute beauty and grows up with killer beauty, which is perfectly exhibited in her round, somewhat heart-shaped face with dark eyes giving out some form of light, luring and inviting, under the nicely designed glasses worn upon her nose which is proportionately sized to her lips which are all but often seen forming a curve, upward and gentle, revealing to a minute extent the glimmering teeth located neatly behind; all of which, combining with dark, long, straight, smooth hair, produce a countenance so intoxicating and heart-melting and thus so hard to resist and which in the context of a moderate body size and height absolutely took away the breath and gave endless impulse to the wildly pounding heart of the guy in the previously paragraph when they first came into eye contact.
There is yet much more to be said for this girl. She has a strong personality, curious and mysterious, not found in any other girls of the densely populated department, and able to cause the wisest man in the world to stop for a moment and wonder after. To put this into full and accurate and satisfactory words would take time and efforts and insights which due to the curiousness and mysteriousness aforementioned have not been gained by the writer of this piece of writing. Thus, to cut long story short, and to say it mildly and frankly, she is the best of all.
Therefore, the guy is even more firmly hooked. And he knows his heart has been beating after hers ever since that very day, the first meeting of the English Club of which they are standing members. And he has mounted bids to visualize it, so that she sees it more clearly, but he has met with failures which are as many as his bids.
But he never minded this (at least that was what he claimed). For the first year at college they did not meet too often, for they were students of different classes. This was a huge hurdle for him: without the advantage of proximity, to get to know a busy person is just pie in the sky. And she is a busy person, as he can tell from the air that surrounds her, an air of hurry and of full hands. One year elapsed without progress.
But since the second year came around, things have changed quite a little bit. The time they spend sitting next to and standing close to and walking along with each other has considerably increased (at least that is what he thinks). And on one occasion, a day out to be precise, the guy had this one chance of his life time to be with the girl all alone.
***
It was a sightseeing tour with some foreign tourists which the members of the English Club aforetold joined as tour guides. They started quite late in the morning, had a look around some of the nicest places in district 1: the Ben Thanh bus station, the City Post Office, the Notre Dam Church, and then proceeded to a cozy restaurant to recharge the batteries, and then pulled our heavy guts into the War Museum, and stayed there for quite 2 hours or so, and then dragged their worn out legs to the bus stops, where the cheapest means of transport would take pleasure in taking them home. It was here that they separated into 2 groups, the guy and the girl and a French lady in 1 group, and others in 1 group. The way things went, the guy rejoiced secretly in his heart.
So, three of them headed away to the Tradition and Culture Museum (let’s call it that name). They arrived at the place, had a quick look around every crook and cranny, then left, and parted at another bus stop, for the French lady had to return to where she was staying, and the couple (let’s call them so) had to make their way home – it was 5 pm at the time.
So, they got on their bus after waiting for more or less 20 minutes. They sat by each other, tired and nervous. Actually, they did more walking that day than they had done the previous 10 years (at least that was what the exhaustion said). They were dead on their feet and dead on their butts, leaning comfortably against the broad bus seats. He sneaked a glance at her. She was viewing something outside the window. He silently withdrew his glance. Her hands were fiddling with themselves. His feet were pointing toward each other, forming an upside-down letter V. Their minds were wandering in a maze of thought, and suddenly found the way out of it when the bus attendant called them to get off.
Stepping off the air-conditioned motion giant, they were again back on their feet, and the exhaustion which lessened slightly during the precious 20 minutes’ sitting now came all back, tempting them to pull to a stop and beckon a taxi. But somehow they kept on trekking, as if they felt not their legs, nor their whole bodies, aching in an attempt to bring them down. Side by side, they kept walking, and just walking, through a crossroad packed with motorbikes and cubs, and another crossroad with a lot of motorbikes and cars, and a roundabout full of people moving in all directions, and through a big black gate leading to where their bikes were awaiting, and nothing was said as they walked along. It was 6:00 pm.
However, they had a change of course, and decided to see their friends, who belonged to the 2nd group, before going home. And out the black big gate they went. He was on her right. Their legs moved slowly, as if to keep them together for just a longer bit. And the guy, holding his breath and mustering all his might, lifted his left hand up a bit, maneuvered it a bit leftward, carefully and gently put it into her right hand, locked it there, where it was locked really tight. No words came out. They allowed warmth from the ‘impact zone’ to build up and spread to every part of the bodies, to the hearts, and the minds. And it felt great, too great for words. But it was short, too short for any words of his. But that was enough. They met their friends, farewelled, and went their separate ways.
Ever since, the guy had been near top of the world. And he flung himself into back into hard work. Time wore on. And this day arrived, when he had another nice chance to show off his affections.
It was the VN Women’s Day, and it was not until the very day before that that it struck him that the following day would be a special day and that he had better be preparing something for her. And he made this: an acrostic of her blog’s name: JUNE N: Jolly, Unreachable, Non-boastful, Enthusiastic, Nice-looking. It did not take good hours to finish that work of art. Actually, the guy made the last modifications to this stuff at 11:30 am, and at 2:00 pm he would give it to her.
So, he rode to school, parked his bike, and trotted upstairs. He sent an SMS message with butterflies in his stomach as he was fearing the worst: that she would not reply. 42 seconds later, a reply came in. 3 minutes after that, the long-expected figure appeared. She gave him a smile. He smiled back, summoning all courage to step closer to her. He felt himself trembling in some part of his body (but which part he knew not). He rested his schoolbag on a perch next to an old wall, opened it, unskillfully, and took out the present. He tried to keep his smile on, for he did not know what else he could do.
He whispered to her: “Here’s your present!”
She held it. Her eyes ran down and through it. Her smile grew more lovely and attractive. Her voice filled with joy. Her eyes glittered with pleasure. Her breath drew hard. She spoke with a loss for words. Her hands turned the thing over and over.
She loved it. He knew it.
And she loved him. He also knew it.
For it was in this moment, that he found out she loved him.
For she said to him: “Je’ taime”.
For that meant “I love you”.
For she said that with happiness.
That was it. The guy was brought to top of the world. And ever since, he kept smiling and chuckling and giggling like a man completely out of his mind.
***
And ever since, he has been seeking chances to get closer to her, to know her more, to love her more. But the way things turned out left a big question mark in his brain.
He has asked her to go out with him several times, to have a drink with him several times, but all of his suggestions were poured water on. She was always busy, which seemed rather strange to him. What could a girl be doing all day on Sunday? And what could a girl be doing all day every single Sunday? This perplexed the guy. He could not make it out. In his mind, there is only thought that lingers: that she would jump at any of his invitations, whatever it might be, as she say did “Je’ taime” to him.
And things went on that way until now, when Christmas is coming so close.
And he asked her to be with him on the day, and she offered him a shaking head. And he left with a heavy heart. And he tried to figure out what message she was trying to convey. And he thought long and hard on this. And he could come up with only 2 ideas: either she was putting him through the test, or either she did no want to go with him. And he was much despaired by the latter.
And now he is here, inside the old magnificent church, praying and hearing, either his words or God’s words. He is alone. He is lonely. He takes refuge in the house of the Lord. He seeks peace in the palms of the Almighty. He would not dream of her thinking of him at the moment. He would not dream of him ever holding her hands again. He would not dream of them ever being together. He has fallen from cloud nine to the bottom of hell. The more he meditates upon their relationship, the more he descends into distress. For the second theory seems more likely. For if it was a test, how could the test be so hard?
And he stays there at the front pew, firm on his knees.
And after a long while, he departs the place. But the moment he passes the huge gate of the church, he sees her, the person who stole and broke his heart, standing staring him in the face. They are both taken aback, as it is with the least hint of hope that they expect to see each other in such a situation. Neither parted their lips. They stand stuck to the post for almost 2 minutes. And the guy steps forward. And he does what God wants to him to do.
(A few moments ago he made this prayer: “Lord, if I met her here in this very place at this very moment, I would do what I have long wanted to do, and would say what I have long wanted to say, that I love her, and I want to be closer to her, and that I want her to be mine. I would hold her by the hands, and embrace her with my arms, and kiss her with all affection that is surging inside. I would do it. For I can bear it no longer my Lord. Let me either win. Or lose…”).
***
He strides herward, directing his glance focusly at her. He was a foot before her. He looked her in the eyes, not intensely, but lovingly. He held her hands, warmed it with the flame fierily burning in his heart, locked them tightly in his, raised them as high as his chest, and uttered these inarticulate words:
“Please, just listen. I have to tell you something, something that I have long wanted you to know. Tonight is a really special night, for this has been the first time my prayers are granted. And I prayed to have you here, right here, right now. And He heard me, and somehow finds a way to lead you to me. I do not know, and thus cannot say for now, if this is for good, or for ill”, he loosened his grab a bit.
“Ever since I met you - and it’s been quite a long time now, isn’t it – your name has claimed its stand in here, yes, right here”, he moves her hands to his heart.
“Do you feel it beating so hard? For it’s trying to beat after yours. It’s yearning to learn your tune, your rhythm of heart. And it has been doing that for quite some time. I am not really sure if I am playing my cards right in telling you this, but this is the time, my love, to get everything off my chest. When you smile, do you know it lifts me up so high? When you say ‘no’, do you know it tears me down so hard?” his eyes glisten under the dim light from the top of the bell tower.
“I simply want to be close to you, to know you more. I know there are a lot of them who are much better than me, who love you even more than me. I know I am not a nice guy, my words are blunt and rude, and my sensitiveness to others’ feelings is nothing to speak of. I know except the high marks I have nothing to score over others. But why don’t you give me the chance? You said that, but why don’t you do that?” one droplet escapes.
“I have been thinking a lot. I don’t know if you are testing me or if you simply don’t like me at all. Maybe after all of this, you will never want to see me again. But I don’t care. Whatever it is that may come to pass, I am to tell you this” he tightens his clutch on her hands.
“This Christmas: I give you my heart. Je’ taime. I love you”, said he firmly, unregrettably.
And upon her lips he lays his kiss, sweet and sincere...
***
To be continued...
***
In the English department of a university small and quiet, this guy stands out as the greatest scorer, for his name always finds a way, a legal and arduous way, to climb onto top of the list, to remain there securely. To eye him at first sight, one would not think he is a student of such knowledge and achievement, for his face is of a silly type and his frame tiny. The truth says this guy has nothing to be written home about apart from his marks.
Also in this department is this girl whose academic success is not as prosperous but whose inner and outer self puts all others’ to shame. She is born with cute beauty and grows up with killer beauty, which is perfectly exhibited in her round, somewhat heart-shaped face with dark eyes giving out some form of light, luring and inviting, under the nicely designed glasses worn upon her nose which is proportionately sized to her lips which are all but often seen forming a curve, upward and gentle, revealing to a minute extent the glimmering teeth located neatly behind; all of which, combining with dark, long, straight, smooth hair, produce a countenance so intoxicating and heart-melting and thus so hard to resist and which in the context of a moderate body size and height absolutely took away the breath and gave endless impulse to the wildly pounding heart of the guy in the previously paragraph when they first came into eye contact.
There is yet much more to be said for this girl. She has a strong personality, curious and mysterious, not found in any other girls of the densely populated department, and able to cause the wisest man in the world to stop for a moment and wonder after. To put this into full and accurate and satisfactory words would take time and efforts and insights which due to the curiousness and mysteriousness aforementioned have not been gained by the writer of this piece of writing. Thus, to cut long story short, and to say it mildly and frankly, she is the best of all.
Therefore, the guy is even more firmly hooked. And he knows his heart has been beating after hers ever since that very day, the first meeting of the English Club of which they are standing members. And he has mounted bids to visualize it, so that she sees it more clearly, but he has met with failures which are as many as his bids.
But he never minded this (at least that was what he claimed). For the first year at college they did not meet too often, for they were students of different classes. This was a huge hurdle for him: without the advantage of proximity, to get to know a busy person is just pie in the sky. And she is a busy person, as he can tell from the air that surrounds her, an air of hurry and of full hands. One year elapsed without progress.
But since the second year came around, things have changed quite a little bit. The time they spend sitting next to and standing close to and walking along with each other has considerably increased (at least that is what he thinks). And on one occasion, a day out to be precise, the guy had this one chance of his life time to be with the girl all alone.
***
It was a sightseeing tour with some foreign tourists which the members of the English Club aforetold joined as tour guides. They started quite late in the morning, had a look around some of the nicest places in district 1: the Ben Thanh bus station, the City Post Office, the Notre Dam Church, and then proceeded to a cozy restaurant to recharge the batteries, and then pulled our heavy guts into the War Museum, and stayed there for quite 2 hours or so, and then dragged their worn out legs to the bus stops, where the cheapest means of transport would take pleasure in taking them home. It was here that they separated into 2 groups, the guy and the girl and a French lady in 1 group, and others in 1 group. The way things went, the guy rejoiced secretly in his heart.
So, three of them headed away to the Tradition and Culture Museum (let’s call it that name). They arrived at the place, had a quick look around every crook and cranny, then left, and parted at another bus stop, for the French lady had to return to where she was staying, and the couple (let’s call them so) had to make their way home – it was 5 pm at the time.
So, they got on their bus after waiting for more or less 20 minutes. They sat by each other, tired and nervous. Actually, they did more walking that day than they had done the previous 10 years (at least that was what the exhaustion said). They were dead on their feet and dead on their butts, leaning comfortably against the broad bus seats. He sneaked a glance at her. She was viewing something outside the window. He silently withdrew his glance. Her hands were fiddling with themselves. His feet were pointing toward each other, forming an upside-down letter V. Their minds were wandering in a maze of thought, and suddenly found the way out of it when the bus attendant called them to get off.
Stepping off the air-conditioned motion giant, they were again back on their feet, and the exhaustion which lessened slightly during the precious 20 minutes’ sitting now came all back, tempting them to pull to a stop and beckon a taxi. But somehow they kept on trekking, as if they felt not their legs, nor their whole bodies, aching in an attempt to bring them down. Side by side, they kept walking, and just walking, through a crossroad packed with motorbikes and cubs, and another crossroad with a lot of motorbikes and cars, and a roundabout full of people moving in all directions, and through a big black gate leading to where their bikes were awaiting, and nothing was said as they walked along. It was 6:00 pm.
However, they had a change of course, and decided to see their friends, who belonged to the 2nd group, before going home. And out the black big gate they went. He was on her right. Their legs moved slowly, as if to keep them together for just a longer bit. And the guy, holding his breath and mustering all his might, lifted his left hand up a bit, maneuvered it a bit leftward, carefully and gently put it into her right hand, locked it there, where it was locked really tight. No words came out. They allowed warmth from the ‘impact zone’ to build up and spread to every part of the bodies, to the hearts, and the minds. And it felt great, too great for words. But it was short, too short for any words of his. But that was enough. They met their friends, farewelled, and went their separate ways.
Ever since, the guy had been near top of the world. And he flung himself into back into hard work. Time wore on. And this day arrived, when he had another nice chance to show off his affections.
It was the VN Women’s Day, and it was not until the very day before that that it struck him that the following day would be a special day and that he had better be preparing something for her. And he made this: an acrostic of her blog’s name: JUNE N: Jolly, Unreachable, Non-boastful, Enthusiastic, Nice-looking. It did not take good hours to finish that work of art. Actually, the guy made the last modifications to this stuff at 11:30 am, and at 2:00 pm he would give it to her.
So, he rode to school, parked his bike, and trotted upstairs. He sent an SMS message with butterflies in his stomach as he was fearing the worst: that she would not reply. 42 seconds later, a reply came in. 3 minutes after that, the long-expected figure appeared. She gave him a smile. He smiled back, summoning all courage to step closer to her. He felt himself trembling in some part of his body (but which part he knew not). He rested his schoolbag on a perch next to an old wall, opened it, unskillfully, and took out the present. He tried to keep his smile on, for he did not know what else he could do.
He whispered to her: “Here’s your present!”
She held it. Her eyes ran down and through it. Her smile grew more lovely and attractive. Her voice filled with joy. Her eyes glittered with pleasure. Her breath drew hard. She spoke with a loss for words. Her hands turned the thing over and over.
She loved it. He knew it.
And she loved him. He also knew it.
For it was in this moment, that he found out she loved him.
For she said to him: “Je’ taime”.
For that meant “I love you”.
For she said that with happiness.
That was it. The guy was brought to top of the world. And ever since, he kept smiling and chuckling and giggling like a man completely out of his mind.
***
And ever since, he has been seeking chances to get closer to her, to know her more, to love her more. But the way things turned out left a big question mark in his brain.
He has asked her to go out with him several times, to have a drink with him several times, but all of his suggestions were poured water on. She was always busy, which seemed rather strange to him. What could a girl be doing all day on Sunday? And what could a girl be doing all day every single Sunday? This perplexed the guy. He could not make it out. In his mind, there is only thought that lingers: that she would jump at any of his invitations, whatever it might be, as she say did “Je’ taime” to him.
And things went on that way until now, when Christmas is coming so close.
And he asked her to be with him on the day, and she offered him a shaking head. And he left with a heavy heart. And he tried to figure out what message she was trying to convey. And he thought long and hard on this. And he could come up with only 2 ideas: either she was putting him through the test, or either she did no want to go with him. And he was much despaired by the latter.
And now he is here, inside the old magnificent church, praying and hearing, either his words or God’s words. He is alone. He is lonely. He takes refuge in the house of the Lord. He seeks peace in the palms of the Almighty. He would not dream of her thinking of him at the moment. He would not dream of him ever holding her hands again. He would not dream of them ever being together. He has fallen from cloud nine to the bottom of hell. The more he meditates upon their relationship, the more he descends into distress. For the second theory seems more likely. For if it was a test, how could the test be so hard?
And he stays there at the front pew, firm on his knees.
And after a long while, he departs the place. But the moment he passes the huge gate of the church, he sees her, the person who stole and broke his heart, standing staring him in the face. They are both taken aback, as it is with the least hint of hope that they expect to see each other in such a situation. Neither parted their lips. They stand stuck to the post for almost 2 minutes. And the guy steps forward. And he does what God wants to him to do.
(A few moments ago he made this prayer: “Lord, if I met her here in this very place at this very moment, I would do what I have long wanted to do, and would say what I have long wanted to say, that I love her, and I want to be closer to her, and that I want her to be mine. I would hold her by the hands, and embrace her with my arms, and kiss her with all affection that is surging inside. I would do it. For I can bear it no longer my Lord. Let me either win. Or lose…”).
***
He strides herward, directing his glance focusly at her. He was a foot before her. He looked her in the eyes, not intensely, but lovingly. He held her hands, warmed it with the flame fierily burning in his heart, locked them tightly in his, raised them as high as his chest, and uttered these inarticulate words:
“Please, just listen. I have to tell you something, something that I have long wanted you to know. Tonight is a really special night, for this has been the first time my prayers are granted. And I prayed to have you here, right here, right now. And He heard me, and somehow finds a way to lead you to me. I do not know, and thus cannot say for now, if this is for good, or for ill”, he loosened his grab a bit.
“Ever since I met you - and it’s been quite a long time now, isn’t it – your name has claimed its stand in here, yes, right here”, he moves her hands to his heart.
“Do you feel it beating so hard? For it’s trying to beat after yours. It’s yearning to learn your tune, your rhythm of heart. And it has been doing that for quite some time. I am not really sure if I am playing my cards right in telling you this, but this is the time, my love, to get everything off my chest. When you smile, do you know it lifts me up so high? When you say ‘no’, do you know it tears me down so hard?” his eyes glisten under the dim light from the top of the bell tower.
“I simply want to be close to you, to know you more. I know there are a lot of them who are much better than me, who love you even more than me. I know I am not a nice guy, my words are blunt and rude, and my sensitiveness to others’ feelings is nothing to speak of. I know except the high marks I have nothing to score over others. But why don’t you give me the chance? You said that, but why don’t you do that?” one droplet escapes.
“I have been thinking a lot. I don’t know if you are testing me or if you simply don’t like me at all. Maybe after all of this, you will never want to see me again. But I don’t care. Whatever it is that may come to pass, I am to tell you this” he tightens his clutch on her hands.
“This Christmas: I give you my heart. Je’ taime. I love you”, said he firmly, unregrettably.
And upon her lips he lays his kiss, sweet and sincere...
***
To be continued...
