I Follow You, River

I love her.

That was the first thought that came into mind when I saw her with that violin, her hands moving with such striking confidence. They made her so lovely – the way she stood, the way she held her chin up, the way she puffed her chest out in regard. But that wasn’t why I decided to drop the three-word sentence. No, it wasn’t.

It was because of the way she was playing the instrument. It was as if she were sending a message to everyone, something important that could be life-altering, something that caught my eye. I couldn’t explain it, but it was like she got me hooked as would a Starbucks cup of coffee.

I didn’t understand my heart as it went in a rollercoaster; first stopping, then beating so fast, and then slowing down again. It was hard to determine why I even had so much affection for a girl I’d barely talked to. But it was meant to be, I was positive.

I told myself that after her performance, I’d go straight to her in her row in the auditorium. And then she finished, bowing her head, and warm rounds of applause were given. Even the way she walked back to her seat was lovely. So after watching her hundreds of feet away, I summoned my courage and went to her row. I ignored the grunts and complaints of other audience as I blocked their view of the stage.

And when I finally reached her row, there was something wrong. A while ago, when she was playing, there was not a single off-key note. And she was wonderful, very wonderful. But I couldn’t help but pinpoint that there was something off-key about her lovely face, something which ticked off the balance.

It was a scar. A scar that ran from the tip of her left eyebrow down to the side of her nose. I couldn’t help but notice that it was meant to be invisible far away, that you were only to see it once you got close. You might think this disgusted me, but it only drove me closer.

What happened? How did she get that? Questions started to bubble in my head and I couldn’t fathom how only a matter of seconds of seeing her up close made my head about to explode.

When she turned her head towards me, that was the moment I felt the rest of the world melt and all I could form out were her hazel eyes, her caramel hair, her fair complexion. Her pinkish lips were parting so candidly, and that was when I realised that she was actually talking to me.

‘Uh, what?’ I asked, dazed.

She smiled patiently at me. ‘I said, can I help you with something?’

Although I very much regretted it, I shook my head and walked away. When I sat back down my chair, I knew I was angry at myself. Eli Charles, getting cowardly in front of a girl? What was wrong with me? No, what was wrong with that girl? Why did she have to pull me in that way? Now I couldn’t seem to stop. I had to know her. Even just her name.

I had to find out how.

After the musical show, I went about the auditorium and found my way to a dressing room with a sign hung above the door, stating, ‘River Delaney.’

I scrunched my eyebrows at the name. It was somehow familiar. And then it hit me that it was the name called out a while ago when I was flirting with some other girl, when I still hadn’t looked at how beautiful the girl with the violin was.

River Delaney.

I realised I fell deeper in love. I gathered my courage, breathing in deeply, and as I was about to lay my knuckles on the wooden door, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. In my exhilaration as to who it probably was, I wheeled myself abruptly and was only disappointed as I saw the surprise. It was an old lady I hadn’t seen before, possibly in her senior years, and yet she was still standing with self-esteem.