My Heart

Turning Point

Story#7: Turning Point *an excerpt from Our Worlds Collide, a story I haven't posted yet. WARNING: Spoiler Ahead*

            I was staring expressionlessly at the football game I was watching on the television. Ever since that night I found out Clarisse was gone, my world slowly faded into view. I saw the ugly cracks on the sidewalk again, I saw the broken bulbs on the streetlamps again, I saw people fighting over something they can’t share, then I saw a car run over this poor cat—it’s like I’m back into this imperfect world. Like Clarisse told me about how bad this world truly is. Like she reminded me how fast people—or things—or places can go in one wrong move. Like she brought me back to the real world where my life wasn’t a girl who was waiting for me. Only I didn’t belong here anymore. When she disappeared, I got lost.

            I was startled when I heard a strange sound of my door being unlocked. I looked at my alarm clock and realized I’ve been asleep for three hours now—it was eleven in the evening. I had no interest in whatever kind of dinner my mother made downstairs and went straight up to my bedroom, not even bothering to acknowledge her ever present presence in the kitchen.

            Half a millisecond later, Clarisse was leaning against my door—it didn’t even open. She was pale, and in a light pink, satin minidress. Like a tutu, but a dress. It was a tube top. She just looked at me, her eyes filled with a longing I could not understand. And when she started walking towards me, I felt no fear. It must’ve been a very awkward moment, really. When you’re face to face with a ghost. It doesn’t really change anything though—with her being a ghost. I’m still in love with her. Dead or alive, she would always be Clarisse. The girl I swore to come back to. I just happened to be too late, she told me.

            “Clarisse…” in an instant, she was sitting on the edge of my bed. I’d barely begun my whisper, but she was already by my side, putting a finger to my lips to hush me.

            “I’m sorry I yelled this afternoon. It was too much for me. Surely it must’ve been too much for you, as well?” her eyes started to glimmer with tears again. Her finger was cold on my lips but I didn’t care. So she was dead. So she was travelling. So she was just a soul. How hard could it be to digest?

            “It’s alright, I love you,” I tried to say firmly, but my voice cracked on the word ‘love’ when I sat up. I kissed her finger.

            “Luke, I…” she started, and when her eyes closed, a tear fell from the corners of them.

            Without any hesitation, she leaned up to kiss me. I don’t know it was possible to kiss a ghost. Maybe this was a blessing the two of us could savor for the moment. I kissed her back—like I wanted to. I didn’t need to be gentle, even—she was dead, for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t like she was being gentle with me. She surprisingly tore my shirt off—another thing I didn’t know was possible—and she was kissing me with an urgency I liked, but didn’t like. Liked, because the girl I love, and let’s still not forget who was already dead, was finally kissing me. Didn’t like, well, because she was dead. It was perhaps really out of this world if I lost my virginity to a ghost, wasn’t it? Gah, who am I kidding? Guys don’t really have virginity, I think.

            Then again, I didn’t care.

            I love her, and if she wants to do it, then we will. Besides, it also isn’t like she’d get pregnant. I mean, she’s dead.

            Just as about I realized how many times I told myself she was dead; I felt this stirring in my chest as she still kissed me with a fire that numbed for a moment. This is it—what I’ve been waiting for—the sinking in that the girl I love was dead. I felt tears choke me inside, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. Not because I was out of air, but because I realized this night could be all we’d ever have. In ten years, she won’t be here to kiss me. Heck, I don’t think that she’d even get to stay for the week at all. It tore me up inside, and I hated myself for not coming back sooner. I hated it. Feeling hopeless. Knowing that I couldn’t save her anymore, that she can’t stay, because I was too late.

            “Luke…?” she pulled away for a second, her hands on my face, grey eyes piercing through me, the moonlight spilling from the window revealing her translucency more and more. There were still tears in her eyes—she was locked in my embrace, my shirt torn.

            That did it—I let out one of those sobs that made me want to die. I broke down. I leaned my forehead against hers—shaking and crying my eyes out while she sat on my lap. I felt her eyes on me, her forehead still against mine. I wanted to grab her closer, but I couldn’t. I wanted to feel her gaze on me—the warmth. Yes, the warmth that’s always missing. Now I know it was only missing because she was not living, she was not breathing. Not because she didn’t love me back. I cried and groaned for having been too late, for having wasted so many years before I came back.

            I wanted to turn time, to just give me another chance to be with her.

            Another realization popped in—maybe this was the chance. Maybe I was wasting it again because I was being a wimp male human being by crying.

            A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Clarisse pulled away again, gently wiping my forehead of sweat.

            “Are you alright?” she asked. I shook my head, squinting my eyes to steer clear of the tears which made her blur in my vision.

            “It doesn’t matter…” I whispered, then raised my head to look at her.

            She smiled softly at me, her palms now resting on the side of my neck. I pulled her face close, and let my lips touch hers for a brief moment. I pulled away, then leaned back in. I kissed her slowly, wanting to do everything right. Not many people get second chances.