D.T.A.

How to describe him? Not such an easy task.
Overwriting his charm in a simple paper seems to reduce him way too much.
He is alive in my mind movies, with his twisted smile and accomplice looks chasing actively my flickering eyes from the opposite side of the courtyard.
He dressed his uniform unaligned; his trousers, a lighter shade of grey, his T-shirt on the outside and the tie, always tangled in a low half-knot, loose around his neck. He belonged to the countryside; his bowed-leg perfectly in tune with his evident impossibility of staying still in our Olivos high-school campus' concrete garden. He craved more space, twirled around everywhere, but it was still super easy for me to follow his track. His blonde hair shined for the sun as a luminous neon sign. This confident young adult, who walked on head-up high above, facing the sky, almost wanting to see over the walls that stood just below his eyes, had me completely absorbed, eyes wide open, fixed to the hall's wall just beside him.  Those who walk so sure of themselves, they smoothly float along the air, as if nothing else matters. And nothing else did in fact. Not for me. He was so secure, firm, so self-assured. He knew himself way better than most of us did back then, he knew, long before many of us, what he would do with his life; the world was for him an amusement park, and he took the lead towards life.

And then there was me. Me, who tried to stay put and keep the blush under control (yes... that undisguisable pinkish tone my cheeks would tend to divert to when he flashed his golden look right back at me). And there you go, little Charlotte entering right into the center of his web, pleading to find an empty way through towards the end of the patio; the challenge: to cross right in front of the bathroom by the main hall's door, turn towards the backyard Kiosko, just around their spot, and dodge them all for good. A mundane chore that all of a sudden became the biggest odyssey of my teenage years. Yet the real mission was to be able to avoid his jealous girl-classmates, envious of that glorious kiss he planted on my lips in front of everyone in the school dance they organized to raise money for their graduation trip.
To cross unnoticed was more than improbable. He had taken care of letting everybody know he flirted with me. I later came to discover that he liked this, making clear I was his, as if there could actually be any doubt on this. He knew his friends, and he knew them well, their team rules and that particular bad habit of participating in everybody's everything. In spite of this, nothing could stop me. Shyness aside, I rose up to be the woman I was not and ventured into the path, careless. Hot chocolate in one hand, he would certainly approach me, after letting them friends play around with me a bit he would dive into the rescue. We had fun with a silly phrase about the cacao burning my lips and sometimes he even surprised me with an alfajor. The best days, we would wait till the patio was clear and slowly head towards our classes with no interruptions left.
My guys, especially Martin, followed the soap opera daily. In physics class he would fill me up with locker-room stories, won and lost games, for they played together both for School and Rugby Club teams. I imagined him there, funny and kind of arrogant, his character face for them all. Not long after that I started joining the holy Saturday matches. My presence was way more than obvious, whoever knows me can confirm sports and me are not a match-made-in-heaven. He saw it all, and with the same break-time charm would let loose a tiny laugh as he saw us coming in. Little did I know this weekly routine would turn into a major life change on my innocent girly times. Sometimes my memory confuses itself, but I know now he always appreciated me being there. Never hiding his recognition, stayed focused on the warm-up but turned his face towards us, gifting me with his perfect little smile, which would always bring me from pink to magenta in a millisecond time lapse.
Towards the end of the encounters, players left the field and we quickly updated on the weekends guidelines. I drifted with the birds, eating berries from the trees across the fence, stretching time. People slowly organized themselves, Martin was always one of the first ones to come out and greet us, carefully spilling details on the upcoming movements of the gang and I would gently slip away to follow his steps. Applying whatever I knew back then on the Law of Attraction, crossed fingers behind my back and repeatedly whispered my wish <<Let it be one of those Saturdays>> in which, almost without intention, we drifted in his car towards the river side, exchanging soft moisted kisses, beholding the princess in my own tailored fairy tale.
He always came joyfull, playing distracted but attentive to every little detail, no stories, no excuses, no explanations needed. <<Was looking forward to meeting you here>>, he would drop while locking my wind-blown hair behind my ear, tender hidden slight touches would follow, caressing my side in between giggles and chinese-eyed smiles and a series of insinuations of what awaited on our day's schedule.
By the river he did give me his hundred percent. Polo tales, to which he dedicated most of his weekends. Revelations on how much he wanted to see me more but living so far away complicated this. I really was not sure to believe him or not, but it did not matter. I liked scanning him with my glowy eyes to always find his staring deep into mine. This was him, straight forward, no strings attached and yet so purely irresistible.
I swear I never expected more from him. Of course I would daydream with him riding that white stallion to my door, but I well knew I was not made for that. He surprised  me over and over, every time he came to find me; and when he didn't, it was up to me to give him back to the world of everyone and kept my hopes up for the next round. Cherishing him would cost me absolutely nothing. I automatically took it all in, tacitly, he was for me that platonic love which belonged to our games, choosing them, distributing them amongst us as if they could be ours to have. And yet again, there he was for me ...though it took me too long to see.
Same as the first time, all his calls arrived unannounced. Spontaneity was his personal brand. And it caught me always off guard. Unforeseen, this story repeated itself for years, with the same cunning informality, same silent votes, same river-side escapes. I asked for nothing, he promised nothing, and we met halfway in a tender encounter that would sum it all up.
Our story as you can see was never one of those with a favourite song, pictures together, titles or even a consummated love. We did have our double-faced love, the public one which was built up on disguised <<I like you lots>> and <<don't thing I like you sooo>>; and the other, ours, that came to life with no realization whatsoever but the plain clear fact of him coming back, and back, and back to me. The story of the mysterious desire that crawls up your spine and makes you alive.
Every time I manage to bring him in I revive it all from the very start. <<Hello it's me, how are you?>> followed by my longest pause ever, searching for the owner of that voice I never heard so close before coming in loud and firm from the other side of the tube. Even not having heard it before, I well knew it was him, him who naturally bended my silence telling me how he got my number and asking me out. And to my surprise and everyone else's I said no. Unexpected, yes...totally. I gave him a good excuse and hung up the phone not knowing I was protecting my pride by letting go of this sudden opportunity to meet his eyes. I just could not believe this was real. However, it still made me the happiest girl in town that night. I was flying all over, reproducing our conversation out loud, daydreaming about having said yes and going around with him, getting to know him, having a close look at the cute dimple his smile formed on his left cheek. He carried with him a world apart, genuine and balanced. And just like that a mischievous intrigue started growing inside of me.
I made my amends by the following weekend, awkwardly entering the school party, wishing I could just develop mutant invisibility powers as soon as I set a foot inside. And then I felt it, a hand on my waist and his breath on the side of my neck. Must have been funny how I turned into a rock, trying to dance out my intimidation while he kindly simulated not to be noticing how easy the conquest was turning out to be. Don't ask me what music was playing or what was it he whispered into my ear, or how it was that we did not leave each other's side again that night. This time I took in every second feeling like a lost Cinderella that would not ride the pumpkin back. We then stepped outside and sitting together against a wall was how I soon understood everything; the touch of the tip of your fingers on the object of your desire, everything a kiss can say, kisses of those that leave you longing for more, and how much your legs can say when they vibrate communicating with each other in a sort of a morse code.
From a close up his brown eyes were crystal clear. His skin was soft, so was his touch. His confident hands rode up my back, tracing a new path within my soul. His movements gained intensity but made no pressure at all. We built our own rhythm, tense and slow and in between shy looks, mine, defiant ones, his, giggles and nauthy suggestions, he caressed me down and into the dawn. From that day onwards he never had my no again. Never, except that one freaking last day...how was I to know?
Honestly all that followed was unexpected. His friends would track me down and bring me to him as soon as they found me around and the story kept repeating itself until we did not need them anymore. Five years later we were still sharing these evanescent encounters, everlasting moments that spread through time and came together again. I was sure he'd have my yes forever; however I had not yet acknowledged forever only belongs to frog and princesses' tales.
It's hard, as I said, to put it out loud now that he is gone. Sometimes I feel if I don't, it might mean it did not happen at all. But it most definitely did and after that, he became my strength, my will to live a life unplanned, my serendipity. And sometimes I can still catch his smile through the corner of my eye although I have to say it's hard to reproduce his face most of the time. The images are now diffuse, scattered all around, but the minute it takes me to recover my breath when I do have the guts to invoke him lets me stay a bit more lingering with him. And just a few times it gives him back to me, even if it only lasts a brief reality escape. Then I get to see his blond hairs moving along with his steps to my front door. And I see me by my window, hiding behind the tree leaves, shaking all over from expectation. I was so young, such a kid, experiencing lust for my very first time.
Anyways now it all became just a bubble suspended in time, full of the simplest things and vast explorings. Kisses, more kisses and how much can you miss him? I would have loved to tell him how everyone in the cybercafe turned to me when I burst in excitement as I found his email in my holidays in Spain: <<I hope you miss me, D.T.A.>>. That day my mom told me that when I was little I would come back home talking about him after spending the weekend in his sister's house. I had no recall of that but understood right away this feeling I always had of knowing him from before.
Maybe I could have also ventured in telling him how I fell to the floor when I found his name and mine sprayed across the street pavement outside our school, how it was only then that I understood everyone knew more than me of what was going on between us. I would also confess how I wished to be able to go to his Polo games even knowing it was not my place, and above all how much I appreciated his company. If I only could talk to him once again I would uncover it all, unfiltered, unbiased.
And it still feels like it never happened, that long december dawn I could have never predicted would be the end of it. Above it all, how could we ever know that fate would just erase him from us, fate and that damned car on the other side of the road. We had even planned a trip together for the first time and suddenly it was all dust. It happened early morning after the barbecue in his honor we shared together, chasing each other down the corridors, resuming where we left it sometime before. Well it was me then the one who changed the rules and firmly desisted on going out with him that night again. I still cannot explain why weakness infiltrated my veins and I gave way to the shadows in my mind. I blame them who took me to act out a character I thought was long gone and flee the scene while he insisted for me to join. And why oh why did I deny myself and persisted on this other plan for my friends to tag along. Darn voice in my head that distracted me from letting it flow like I always did ever since that first no. Believe me there's no way to put in words how much I regretted that one second no.
We split, me, to a party nearby, him, downtown. While the sky cleared and I was having breakfast with my friends he called, that one last call, that one last chance to break the timeline that took him down that road. I was right on his way, he wanted to pick me up and I sustained that stupid no. It was always so easy to say yes it makes now no sense at all. I had his reaffirmation but I was still too blind to see. I guess I was testing him, see how much he would insist and yet, he would never get another chance to do so. I would give the world to take it all back, jump in his car, fill him up with sweet kisses, ride to the unknown. And now, after vast insistence my reasoning agrees that we can't play God and believe we can change the curse of life. But tell this to my heart, tell him he could have done nothing different to stop the time. Tell him that it makes no sense to believe that if he would have just given the most sincere yes it had in it that car would not have bumped into his on that very exact moment it did.
The next call that day explained it all. I could not react, hung up, but the call kept coming back again and again until I finally heard: <<There's been an accident...>>, mute, <<No time for the ambulance to arrive>>, silence... <<Do you hear me???>>, silence again, <<Are you there??>>... silence, silence and more silence...
Needless to say I fell into a pit hole trying to decode how could it be that so much life drained out in just a couple seconds. Damn fate that comes and takes it all in a sudden rush of deliverance.    Everything I believed in changed its colors, all certainty I ever had abandoned me that day. The night before we were celebrating his College graduation. He was shining, funny, glamourous and suddenly he just was not there anymore. And what to do now with all these unspoken words?
I would need a new language to express what invaded me that day, the next, the following week, the month after that, and the many more which followed. The concept of ephemeral outgrew all other meanings, it glued under my skin, it itched, it hurt so much from the inside I could not breathe. It was the love that never was and yet my biggest love of them all. And what was left without him...?
In his absence I made him more mine that I ever dared to. I gave him all the attributes I never claimed. I finally said it all, to the vacuum. I took him in without asking for permission and without thinking of ever giving him back. I declared him mine with a right I never had. It did not matter anymore. I gave myself permission to call him love, hugged him, squeezed him hard on my chest until I made it hollow. People kept telling me time will heal this wound that stubbornly would not give in but that space I always saved for him became huge, grew out of dimension, where only he could fit in, pushing out anything that would even try to peek inside. And a million questions popped in, what ifs, why nots, unraveled in my eternal sleep, going over and over the same moment where I was stuck, numbed, frozen.
It was a year later or so when a friend from college by chance discovered I was that same girl whose name was called out in his house. She was friends with his sister and tied up the knots. I had no idea he talked about me and the bittersweet pain it caused gave me some kind of peace. It filled me up to know I was 'A' something for him outside my fairy tale stories, however the delusion lasted only a few more seconds before I realized it now changed nothing at all. If I'd only trusted I was somehow special for him too I could have well avoided that sudden self-love rejection I gave him in our last talk. I quickly realized I would never get my answers, I could never know what could have happened if...so I promised myself never to do that again, never say no when you mean yes. And beholding this I tell you this story now, because it changed for me the whole spectrum of uncertainties. I will always speak my truth now, take it as it comes, live it out and about no matter what, no strategies, no deviations, no withholdings...after all whatever you don't say you might not get to say it ever again and that is something you can't just go and replace.
There are no words for what remained simmering, an echo in the reflection of the light when it hits the waves, a spectrum... a slap on the face, a knot in the throat, a dry cry on a cold night, a cuddle that longs to stay warm...the prettiest memoires tainted in snow, and that thin line between wanting to keep him forever and letting go the worst wound I've ever known.