For The Valentines..

I know it's a little belated. But..

Some people know that I like to write short stories. Some of them've read a story or two; while some have even received them as gifts =)

Well, since I know that some of you might not have gotten over V'day yet (though I think it's quite a commercial holiday now), I've decided to write a short love story to commemorate the event. Also, because I haven't posted any of my stories on my blog before.

Here you go.. the title of the story is..


" I Miss You ... "













The sixty-five year old man awoke gently to the sound of a soft tapping. He laid in bed, still dazed, not giving it much thought, before realising that there was someone knocking on the door.

"Coming." He called hoarsely, and shifted himself stiffly off the bed. His feet felt the morning coldness of his floor as he slowly made his way to the door.

The visitor's first words were: "Oh, it's an ah pek."

"What you all want?" The old man said, his lazy eyes examining the two teenagers who now seemed ready to leave.

The shorter girl replied: "We're selling -"

The taller one interrupted: "Never mind, Cindy, let's go."

"You all selling flowers for what?"

"See, I told you. Ah peks don't celebrate Valentine's Day. Let's go."

The old man coughed. "Stop." He coughed again. "Can I buy one rose?"

The taller girl turned back in surprise.

"How much for one?" he went on.

The old man eventually closed the door with one stalk of deep-red rose in his hand. He placed it gingerly on his dining table and took a glance at his wall calendar - it was February 14.

He couldn't remember the last time he celebrated Valentine's Day. It was many years ago - with his lover, of course. His slow mind could no longer picture the date, but he recalled something that made his slow heart bit slightly faster.

He staggered back to his room and opened the old wooden wardrobe. At the bottom was a drawer, and that took him a few minutes to pry open.

He chuckled gruffly at the stack of yellowish letters he saw - they were all from her. He flipped through some as his fingers trembled, and finally decided to read one:

给我爱的人：
情人节那晚真特别！我永远不会忘记。在河畔上你对我说的那句话实实在在感动了我。我也在此希望你不会忘记我。因为。。。我觉得我是忘不了你的。

(To my Lover:
That night of Valentine's Day was certainly special! It was memorable. Those words you said by the river really touched me. I sincerely hope you won't forget me, because... I think I won't be able to forget you.)

The old man knew he didn't. He put the letters back into the cupboard. He wanted to be by her side again. It had been countless years and he had lived alone. Busy, but alone. His job as a security guard took up a lot of his time. Currently, he felt that it was right to meet her once more.

So he prepared for his date. He put on a white shirt and a black suit, and sleekly combed back his thinning hair. He washed his face and his hands, ate a simple breakfast of milo and white bread, and took the fresh rose off the table.

He stood at the bus-stop and tried to remember her place. It was quite far away, which was one reason he hadn't visited for so long. The old man took out his faded leather wallet and counted the money in it: $67.30. It would be more than enough for a taxi trip to-and-fro, he guessed.

He managed to flag one down within a minute, and he got in without hurry. After confirming the destination with the driver, he sat back in the cool, leather seat and thought of what to say afterwards. All the while, the driver was staring at him through the rear-view mirror.

Finally, he alighted, and the taxi sped off. The place was quiet. The air was sweet with the residue of the morning mist that just lifted, and the surrounding baked under the fresh sunshine.

First, he had to find her place. The old man trudged through the unkempt grass and began looking around. When was the last time he was here? Again, his slow mind couldn't recall.

The markings he saw around were just as faded as everyone's, with only a couple of newly-painted ones here and there. He was beginning to perspire and worry that he would never find it.

Then he saw it. The old man smiled.

The tombstone was almost obscured by overgrown weeds, but he would never mistake that photograph.

The ends of his pants were already wet with grass dew as he hastened to the spot, panting as he stopped. The old man then spent the next half hour plucking out weeds and whatnots, clearing the grey-stone so he could see everything that was written on it.

His lover had died for twenty years now. She was young - they were young. And it was really painful.

But the old man couldn't remember the pain anymore. All he could revoke, he hoped, was the love.

The sweet-smiling woman beamed at him from the black-and-white and a sudden rush of emotion hit him. A rim of tears wet his eyes as he held the tombstone to steady himself.

He had forgotten, afterall. But now, the feelings had returned.

The old man couldn't control his shaking anymore. He sniffed as a tear trickled down his wrinkled cheek.

"I miss you."

He delicately planted the rose atop the gravestone and kneeled down on the ground. He could feel his wife's presence (afterall, she was below him). It didn't feel eerie whatsoever. All he felt was the familiar connection.

The letter he had read just this morning was conjuring up a certain image. His memories were working in a strange way. He closed his eyes and let the recollection occupy his mind:

The grass was wet. The river was calm. The night was warm. He felt hot as she put her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you made it back in time for today," she said. "I don't want to be alone."

"Me too," he said. He smiled and kissed her forehead.

They sat in silence as his heart beat fast.

Then she said: "It's Valentine's Day. What must you say?"

He swallowed. He knew what she wanted to hear. But instead, he whispered in her ear:

"I miss you."

She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him, silent.

He continued: "These three words are better, I feel." He was looking right into her eyes. "It's not everyday that you can miss someone so badly. I want to be with you everyday, from now on. I don't want to miss you again."

Her eyes glistened with tears. She hugged him.

"Yes. I miss you, too."


The old man opened his eyes.

He touched the photograph on the stone.

"It won't be long, I hope."












~
The End.

Copyright © Wilson Ng
All Rights Reserved.

Got range again tomorrow. Quite sian.
Take care, peeps!