When We Met... (A Forever Now Short Story)

When We Met... 1863

1863

But I didn't get back until 1863 for a visit when my battalion was on leave. I didn't talk to her, though. I watched from afar. She'd grown out her hair in my absence, it nearly reached her knees. I suspected she grew it out for me by they way she arranged it to the side and with bangs. Her beautiful eyes, now deep sea blue, peeked under the bangs in an irresistible stare or unwarranted glare. I loved her now more then in my absence. Her scent, still trapped in my memories, had changed. I yearned to reach out to her, hold her to me like I did before. But I refrained from all of that. Instead I duck under a tree as she passes by or sit on a bench reading while she hangs out with her friends. The multitude of friends she has! One in particular, the one always on her right, bothers me beyond belief. Any opertunity he gets he touches her. Whether it be while guiding her home or her clumsiness, he holds her the way I wish I could.

On my last day on leave, I stray closer than usual. They don't notice me, or so I thought. It is a Sunday after the congregation is out. The children are left to play in the church's garden while the adult talk about the mass and sip tea. For the first time I notice how segregated this town really is. Everyone belongs to one group, never leaving it. Mikaela's parents talk to a group of Germans while their neighbors talk to their Polish counterparts. But Mikaela, ever the happy girl, mingles with everyone. At 19 she is the youngest, and most beautiful, in the groups. Unlike her parents, she goes from one group to the other, joking and arguing with everyone equally. Her parents, used to this, say not a word. But I stand a few feet away leaning on a wall, astonished.

In my astonishment, I didn't notice a group of girls looking at me. When finally I did turn away from Mikaela, one yelled, “Kryzstofer? Is that you?!” Cought, I had no choice but to reply. “Yes,” I told them, leaving my niche to walk towards them.

“When did you get back?” The oldest, Tessa, asked.

“A few days ago.” My eyes, hiding under my cap, glanced over to Mikaela wondering if she'd heard. “I am on leave.”

“Does Mikaela know?”

“No-”

“Mikaela!!” Tessa and the others yelled.

“I must go.” I walked off but was soon pulled back by the small, yet strong, group towards Mikaela.

“Mikaela hasn't seen you!” Tessa, clearly the leader, grunted as she pulled me towards the church garden. “Mikaela!!”

“What?” Mikaela turned around. “Kryzstofer!” She ran towards me. We embraced for what seemed like an eternity, and eternity I would gladly live again and again. The girls departed, their mission had been accomplished.

“Mama!” Mikaela pulled me by the hand to her parents. “Schauen Sie!”

“Kryzstofer, what a surprise.” Mrs. Tusky said in her usual demeanor. “How long have you been back?”

“A few days...” I admit.

“Days?!” Mikaela yelled. “And you did not come to see me?”

“Mikaela,” Her dad put a hand on my shoulder, separating us. “the boy-man- has better things to do than see you.”

“Actually,” I began. “I couldn't summon up the courage to see anyone.” Especially you.

“When do you leave?” Mikaeal asked me looking down. I resisted the urge, once more, of touching her.

“Tonight.” Her head sprung up.

“What?!” She asked. “So soon?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Then,” Mikaela said taking my hand. “we have a lot to talk about.”