A Child's Faith

His arms embraced, her slender waist. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulders. Lovingly he gazed down. She could feel his breath on her, his mint breath inhaling the sweet scent of her beautiful chestnut-brown hair, falling in natural curls to below her shoulders.
Slowly he rocked their bodies, whispering sweet-nothings into her ears. She smiled after every word, oh, how much she loved his voice. Wasn’t that how she fell in love with him in the first place?
Occasionally he would kiss her forehead, smothering his love right there. His hands caressed her blooming cheeks with the greatest amount of affection. They were always warm, she noticed, even on that cold November evening. She loved the comfort of their bodies pressed together, the solace of his flesh on hers.
She missed the feeling of it. She missed those precious moments. She missed him.
“You can close your eyes to reality, but not to the memories.”
She could still remember every ounce of him. He was still there in her mind all the time, those eyes the colour of Sapphire boring deep into hers. Yes, she could still remember everything – from the contours of his face, to his smell, to his voice.
Her eyes moistened, and soon she began to cry aloud. Fifty years, and she was still waiting. She could never quite get over his death – Gerald’s death. Day by day she sat by the windowsill, waiting silently, waiting with a child’s faith. She wanted nothing more than for him to come home, to hold her tight in his embrace once more.

A set of slow, sforzando chords began to play. He placed his hand on her waist; she rested hers on his shoulder. He smiled at her, and shyly, she returned it. And then they started.
Looking straight into her warm brown eyes, he began to lead. They started off slow, like everyone else. But in a matter of seconds it was more than just intimate waltzing – they glided across the dance floor with such beauty and passion, a blur of crystal colour and grace. They were quite simply, beauty in motion.
The rest of the student population naturally broke apart and stood back, two at a time. The ballroom fell silent, and apart from the soft sentimental and the rhythm of their heels clicking against the marble floor, no other sound could be heard. All eyes were on them, and only them.
They moved seamlessly into a low lift, and he spun her around, put her back down, dipped her once more, demonstrating a grace and perfection of movement that few could even begin to emulate. He twirled her on his outstretched across the floor, the hem of her ivory dress flaring around her show-stopping legs. There she was, her body in a lithe example of feminine perfection in her formfitting ball gown of a thousand colors.
The music escalated into a crescendo as they executed yet another perfect lift, with her spiraling down his body in perfect unity with the music. They were so spectacular, alluring, glorious, that it was hard to draw eyes away from them. To watch them was to feel that the senses were teased, stroked, awakened, caressed, excited and eased.
The music ended, and he was bent over her, his mouth so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her face. And then there was silence, just enough silence for Gerald to whisper “you’re beautiful”, just enough silence for him to bow respectfully and kiss her hand. Soon enough the crowd leapt to their feet and erupted into a thunderous applause, and for minutes it continued to rise in the ballroom.
Now she brought close to her, the homecoming dress on her lap. That was when they started to fall in love, wasn’t it? The silk ivory still felt soft under her touch, and it still held the same scent of perfume from all those years ago.
He was a great dancer, Gerald, and the way he moved across the dance floor with such grace never ceased to amaze her. But he was never complete without her. She could never forget the moment his eyes met hers, and with certainty, asked for her hand in the dance. He had pulled her up from her seat, and together they entered the dance floor unnoticed, quietly from the darkness.
Their dance – it was simply breathtaking. And that was how they fell in love.

The rose had already wilted. Long ago. It was the final rose he gave her, the one he painstakingly braved through the snowstorm just to get to the florist. He knew his time was running short and nothing could save him – except a miracle which they both knew, was not going to happen.
When he staggered back into his house and presented her with the red rose, she had sunk to the floor, breaking down in front of him in relief and shock. Relief that he was back by her side, shock that he still tried to prove his love for her, despite his current circumstances. Her emotions were set free – grief, sorrow, despair, all in one.
With difficulty he knelt down and wiped away her tears, holding her close to him as she buried her face into his chest. She was still whimpering softly, his darling angel, clearly touched by his affection. He stroked her hair, but didn’t say a thing.
Tears started to well up in his eyes. He was worried for her, how she would go on after his death. He had not seen that angel smile spreading across her face for a very, very long time, and he wondered if it would ever come back again. He didn’t want her to lose that smile forever. He missed it, he really did.
The day of his death, the rose wilted.
In tears she had traced the rasping between each of the dried and dead leaves, the dark, dark, almost black petals. They were so dry, they looked so dead. She brought the withered rose up to her nose and gave it a whiff, expecting a foul stench. But instead it smelt sweet, sweeter than when she got it fresh. It smelt faintly of grass and something else. Memories flashed through her mind – from the dance till his death.
The black rose – it served as a memory of him forever.

From afar she could see him, her first and only love. Her eyes watered and she smiled, feeling the last ounce of energy drain from her.
This is it, she thought, taking her final breath. She was glad that she had never given up on that child’s faith, faith that one day, she would be able to dance with him again.