Rosary

I was still so young, of only 6 and ten years of age, amidst the phase of aspirations of life’s prestige and success.

Rosary. It never left me, ever. Perhaps the only object of my possession that is teemingly seared w/ memories I hold dearest in my youth. It was t he emblem of a story I once knew.

He was just a mere companion of a friend’s friend. That day we met each other was ultimately unexpected. I didn’t even notice him, perhaps because of his timidity when we’re introduced. He would not look me in the eye, but he did exude a shy smile. That didn’t stop me from liking him, however.

It was on one rather gawky situation when we’ve acquainted for the first time. It happened just across our school. Christmas party. The group decided to indulge the rest of the day at the mall, and so we went on our way. At first, I felt out-of-place and awkward for my two gal pals got themselves a partner each and only the two of us were left out. Thinking seven folds, he finally approached me. He offered a hand to clutch the bag I was holding. A fine-bred lad, I thought.

As we strolled down the suburbs of the building, I never really paid attention to that person walking beside me. At least, not until we stopped over to take a rest for a while. He deserved a second look after all, I said to myself. Hmmm.. let’s see.. a pair of very expressive ‘chinese’ eyes, a timid smile and a firm stature. I admired him, much to my surprise. After a rather lengthy pause, I made eye contact with him.

He was looking at me. I acknowledged him. I don’t know how, I think I smiled.

He never tried to speak to me as we resumed our strolling, not when I pretended to yawn in bore, not when I intentionally glance at the ceiling every now and t hen. I would have done so myself if birds weren’t fluttering from under my abdominal cavity. Strange.

Also, what I noticed about him was t his beautifully embellished rosary of silver and black beads circling his wrist. By a sudden twist of fate, I unconsciously felt the warmth of that person’s sincerity and the subtlety in his eyes. But what confused me most was that I suddenly felt sad. No idea why. Maybe my mind’s drifting again. For some reason, I felt secured and sheltered. Somehow, I was sucked I into that object, hypnotized.

“Angela…”

My critical analysis was disrupted by him. As he spoke my name, he was gently nodding, along with a peculiar smile I couldn’t depict. He looked straight in to my eyes, and once again repeated my name as if getting used to pronouncing it. It made me feel a funny wriggling in my stomach! Hah! Infatuation: both a joy and a headache with no paracetamol available to relieve it. Anyway, I started to wonder how he ended up going over here with the rest of the group.

We had a wonderful conversation. There was n ever a single dull moment. It was casual, nothing intimate. I could vividly see beyond his shy grin that he’s enthralled by my funny punch lines. It made me smile.

Once again, I caught him glancing at me. Don’t even think about it, I told myself. I altered my walking in the most indifferent manner I could manage. Either way, he looked down, murmured something, then smiled at me.

I hastily evaded his sight and felt the warm rush of blood rising in my face. Oh no! I think I’m blushing!!! I cant’ let him see that! To get away with it, I harshly wiped my face with my hanky and pretended to sneeze. I know I’ll surely laugh hard about this incident in the future. As a matter of fact, I already am! But I still pay myself a nice compliment! Quick thinking!

After a couple of hours of walking, I began to feel exhausted. I started to feel my legs wobbling. Darn this high heels, I shouldn’t have worn these! And my pitiful feet took its toll; I almost tripped and had my butt crash on to the floor! And he was sweet enough to let me rest for a while, asking me for countless of times if I was okay. He was extremely worried. Then, something beautiful arose.

Yes, a few hours of strolling hit it real good. But don’t you dare this is one of those mushy love stories.

No, this isn’t one of those love stories.

Believe me.