i am hidden in plain sight.
there's no trick or ruse about this statement,
is not meant to make you think nor is it meant to have a deeper meaning,
i am just a girl hidden in plain sight.
i'm not entirely sure when this happened,
when the veil of the unobserved decided to rest itself on my unyielding shoulders,
but it happened.
and this is how i've been forced to live ever since.
standing in the eye of a crowded room,
and still i am overlooked.
i stand beside my family and perk up when i hear my name,
but they speak about me as though i am in passing;
not around to hear their words.
my friend leaves my texts on read for days at a time.
she doesn't know i know this,
but i watch the stillness of the receipt and watch the seconds tick by;
torturing myself with the proof of ignoring.
if it weren't for the flesh and bones i have that often bruise and ache,
i might fear myself a phantom.
but there is no supernatural ability in my mundane existence.
i am just easily forgotten.
i suppose i have myself to blame for the bigger part of it.
maybe if i had put myself out there more,
my name would be familiar on tongues instead of it coming across as an enigma for those unaware.
"y/n? who is that? never heard of her."
or maybe if i had branched out my friend group instead of making myself familiar with the same people,
i wouldn't be so alone.
but there is no point in rehashing the past,
begging my mind with "what if's,"
this is all that i have.
"oh, i didn't even know you left the house,"
says my mother with a hesitant smile now that i've arrived home.
i sometimes wonder if she forgets of my existence entirely.
as though she were not the one to bring me to life,
who held me skin to skin and whispered my name in astonishment.
as though i do not have her eyes or her chin.
"yeah. went to the library,"
i finally reply.
she nods.
"get some studying done?"
"yeah, i did. i worked on my math homework too, because you know we've got that test coming up?"
i wait for her to nod her head in reply,
to signal that she hears me,
but nothing comes.
i've used up my words for the hour so now i must take my voice and let it rust over for another time.
i find solace in my bed after this.
how comforting it is to be greeted by the mattress that has remember the shape of my being.
a ghost of a girl brought to peace.
i wish words brought justification to this feeling as i sink deeper and deeper in.
in the stories,
they say for every half,
there is a whole.
this is all that i have to keep me breathing;
the possibility of finding my whole.
***
i have an irrational fear of being erased.
i should be used to it by now,
i know,
but my mind still races.
what will become of my ashes?
will my footprints on this earth have meant anything?
will stories of my living be told in honor?
i know the answers to this,
and that is what makes my heart stutter.
how lonely a life it is.
to be brought from soil only to return to nothingness.
when my head gets too heavy with these thoughts,
i trail out to the one place anyone can find peace:
the beach.
the waves are the perfect amount of noise to steer me clear.
i can soak up the sun into my flourishing skin and i can inhale the salt air with my working lungs.
i find myself in my usual spot,
planted right upon shore where the waves wash up and kiss my feet.
though i'm often in the way of toddlers who decide to build sand castles right beside me or fishers who plant their poles next to me,
being front and center is exactly where i belong.
if not in life,
then on the beach.
luckily,
the hour is just right.
i have the beach practically to myself.
what a wonder it is.
"no way! deacon king kong? i love that book."
had it not been for the calling of this book title,
i might have never known this boy was speaking to me.
i'm surprised and i feel myself growing shy.
i am not used to this so please,
i beg of him,
bear with me.
"yeah! its..it's, uh, pretty good so far. yeah..."
i scratch the back of my now burning neck and feel the weight of my awkward words dry on my tongue.
"i just finished it, like, last week. definite top ten. are you into historical fiction?"
am i?
i don't even know.
i've never been asked many questions about myself.
i've never had to think about it,
only exist.
"uh, sure. i don't mind them."
the boy nods in his head in understanding.
"you?"
i ask,
hoping my overwhelming coyness isn't coming off as prissy.
"oh, absolutely. but there isn't much i won't read."
"yeah, same. i just like to read."
he gives me a wide smile that shows his perfect teeth.
"exactly."
i return the smile with cheeks of blush but if he notices,
he says nothing.
which i am grateful for.
"i'm pope heyward."
"y/n l/n."
our hands meet to shake cordially,
but i find myself rather stunned at the formality of it all.
i am a girl of invisibility,
yet i am being invited by calloused, gentle hands.
how foreign it is to be greeted this way.
"you'll have to let me know how you like the book when i see you again."
"oh, y-yeah, definitely."
i don't have the strength to remember that the next time he sees me,
my name will be something vague in his mouth and he'll struggle to recognize mediocre me.
i'm riding this high until i can no longer.
"i'll see you around, y/n."
"see you, pope."
and with that,
i watch him jog away down this empty beach to wherever he is destined to go.
i hope destiny plays in my favor this time.
***
it is not on purpose that i see pope heyward a week after our first encounter.
i merely stumbled into a store to find refuge from the rain i was caught in and there he was.
of course now,
my lips have solidified to hardly open and greet him.
my limbs are wishing i could rush over and say,
"i finished the book! you were right, it was amazing."
but instead i lumber through the shop with my head low.
it would take the caress from a god to his skull for him to remember simple y/n.
and i am not a religious woman.
but if by some chance,
a god decides to grant me some grace,
if pope heyward would remember me,
then i might fall to my knees in praise.
at first,
i am defeated.
i feel his eyes on me but the seconds passing grow too long.
he doesn't remember.
and why would he?
until the words of sweet relief fill the air,
"y/n?"
the curse of my inconspicuous existence has lifted.
i have been freed.
thank you, god, thank you.
"pope, hey!"
"it's good to see you. the weather sucks today though, doesn't it? rather juxtaposed to our last meeting."
i exhale a laugh that feels rather light on my diaphragm.
"it is pretty bad out there. good thing rain doesn't last in the obx."
"a definite plus of this island."
we laugh alongside one another and i can't help but take note of our symphony.
"by the way, did you ever finish that book?"
"i did,"
i say with a nod.
"you were right! top ten, for sure."
"right? it was a great read."
i smile into the bend of my hand before asking,
"are you reading anything new?"
"not yet, no. haven't found anything good yet. how about you?"
i reach into my bag to reveal the book i'm currently reading.
his hands of grace take this book and examines it.
his fingers trace the title of the book,
slides down the spine,
thumbs through the pages.
look at how gentle.
watch how he cares.
i have never seen such diligence in anyones hands but my own.
"you've got taste, y/n,"
he says with another smile reserved for me.
i return it with ease.
"i don't know if you're, like, interested in it or anything but...you know...there's, um, a bookstore up the way that has copies. if-if you ever wanted."
"oh, absolutely. do you...do you want to go?"
his reserved look,
mirroring the very same shyness in my eyes,
makes this constriction around my nervous heart lessen some.
"n-now?"
"if you're okay with that."
pope exhales a laugh that's tight with timidness.
i watch as he rubs the nape of his neck,
a nervous habit,
the very same one i've picked up.
i can't help but to laugh then answer with,
"i'd love to go."
with nervous laughter,
pope and i exit this store to brave the rain.
our travel is rewarded by a bookstore smelling of pastries and offering warmth.
it's scarce of customers,
per usual,
but that is why i love it so much.
empty, alone, unfulfilled.
i feel a twinge of empathy for the things left abandoned.
"wow...i've never been in here before,"
pope says with wondrous eyes glossing over this hidden secret of mine.
"it's pretty small, easy to miss."
"all the best things in life are hidden."
"you think so?"
he brings his eyes down to mine and i'm left to revel in their sparkle.
how beautiful.
"i do."
i wonder if he understands.
if i might reach up,
allow the tips of my fingers to trace his temple,
i will see what he cannot verbalize.
instead,
i stare and admire;
the sunspots kissing the bridge of his nose,
the scar above his lip,
the constellation of life resting in those brown eyes.
i see him.
i wonder if he sees me.
"come on,"
i say when i've finally snapped out of my trance.
he follows me to the very shelf that our sought out book rests on.
he grabs one copy from the middle and barely opens it so that the spine doesn't crease.
i can't but to smile when i notice this.
"hey, y/n?"
my name ringing to my ears,
brought forth by someone so heavenly,
i shiver in response.
though i blame it on the coldness of the rain settling into my skin.
"yes?"
"should we uncover the best kept secrets of this town together?"
a smile breaks across my lips at this.
the coyness in his eyes suddenly vanishes and he, too, smiles as wide as i do.
"i think we absolutely should, pope."
he purchases the book that, now as i look a little closer, seems to describe this very moment here.
"a little hope by ethan joella."
because for once in my life,
i do have a little hope.
because of the rain,
pope and i piled into his car and found great comfort in the blasting heat.
i close my eyes as it rushes from his vents and melts the frigidness of my cheeks,
dries up the droplets clinging to my existence.
when i feel his eyes on me,
heavy with the weight of regard,
i turn to meet him.
there is a look in his eye,
but i cannot name it.
i am inexperienced,
i am someone with no knowledge,
so i am forced to remain confused.
granted,
i know i must look crazed right now.
with hair that's been caught in the midst of a random storm and wet clothes that are biting at my skin.
but this is not a look of any judgment.
it's quite the opposite.
it's light and gentle to my humble being.
it isn't until i look at his hands,
that were once being moved back and forth to create warming friction but are now still,
that i understand.
i know this look simply because i have seen it in my own eyes.
pope heyward is admiring me,
as well as i have been admiring him.
"s-sorry,"
he says with a humorless laugh then shakes his head.
"i don't know what that was. i'm sorry."
my cheeks erupt in flames.
i don't want him to apologize.
i've never been looked at,
much less admired.
if i could have things my way,
i'd ask him to look at home like that for just a few more seconds.
long enough for me to burn it into my memory and never forget it.
instead,
i laugh awkwardly and shrug.
"don't apologize. i'm sure i look crazy right now."
"not at all, y/n."
i turn my head to face the window because this overwhelming urge to spill out with truths and grant him words of praise is much too strong.
"it's raining pretty hard. do you want to try this another day?"
i ask.
pope shakes his head.
"actually, i have the perfect idea that'll keep us dry."
so i agree and let him drive to wherever this idea takes us.
i am not a naive girl.
i know when i am being seen as someone of an object than someone of existence,
though it is a rare occurrence.
yet i am sitting in the car of someone whom i barely know.
but can i be blamed?
he has granted me something entirely new.
his mere gaze has stripped me of the hidden life i once was condemned to.
he has given me a chance to restart.
i would follow him to the ends of the earth now,
so maybe i am naive.
pope soon parks the car underneath a tree that often sends wide droplets of rain onto the windshield.
around us,
are wondrous trees,
thick with leaves and wide trunks.
weeping willows.
we are surrounded by nothingness.
it's freeing.
"this is where i come to study. it's usually way dryer but...the calmness is still the same."
"how did you find the place?"
"don't you know?"
he begins with a widespread smile.
"all the best things in life are hidden."
"so you've said,"
i return with a laugh.
i'm amazed by their song,
by the stillness of the wildlife,
how we are the only two to exist alongside century old trees.
they have stood to the test of time and have not been forgotten,
thanks to pope.
a little more hope strikes itself inside of me.
"i figured, you know, we could start reading today since we've uncovered a secret."
"are we starting a book club?"
i tease with a laugh that doesn't sound like it belongs to me,
but is reserved for pope himself.
he laughs into his hand then nods.
"absolutely."
we eventually settle into our seats,
reading over the pages of the book we've agreed upon.
but it seems neither of us can focus.
the air is much too charged with the anticipation of something greater happening.
i take it until i no longer can.
i shut my book and turn to him.
"can i ask you something totally insane?"
"sure, as long as i can give a totally insane answer."
i smile then ask,
"would you wanna maybe dance in the rain...with me?"
"i would love to dance in the rain with you, y/n."
i can't contain my elation,
so i bubble over with laughter as we exit the car.
something is changing within me.
i no longer bare the weight of this fearful existence,
i am someone new.
pope grabs my hand into his and there,
we begin our swaying in the rainfall.
the chilled drops caress his skin and fall,
they collect into his hair and eyelashes,
they bring light to the most beautiful features he owns.
i am in awe.
of course it only heightens when we're filling up on laughter and tiptoeing closer to catching a cold.
his hands never let go of me.
whether they're resting on my waist,
tangled into my own,
molded around my shoulders,
he is keeping me close.
"y/n?"
pope calls abruptly.
i stop long enough to give him my attention so he may continue.
"you're so beautiful...i don't think i'll ever be able to get you out of my mind."
he has named me memorable and for that,
i could cry in relief.
these words spoken are not ones meant to sway me or to convince me of anything.
i can feel the truth of his confession carving themselves onto my bones.
"that's the greatest thing anyones ever said to me,
pope. thank you."
"of course."
he has not let go of me,
and i have yet to move an inch away from him.
here we stand,
the brightest smiles in the darkest of storms.
i find it rather poetic.
to have been taken from the depths of vast nothings and made into something shiny;
someone new,
someone great.
i am healing.
***
the next secret pope and i discovered together was the stream hidden behind layers of thickened branches.
we stumbled across it accidentally when i asked,
"do you think we exist outside of time?"
i wanted to know if he, too, thought that human existence ended in erasure.
he answered as we climbed through these branches to find the other side,
whatever may be there.
"i think that time is a manmade concept. so, yeah, i think we do. can souls be measured by their duration within vessels? are we even capable of fathoming existence outside of this?"
pope asked while extending his hands out,
"this" meaning the life we lead right now.
i had never wondered if existence was something immeasurable.
"i'm sure scientifically, though, there's a better answer."
"science is boring."
we tossed each other small smiles and there,
we reached the other side.
a stream of crystal clear water rushed through the dip in the earth,
kissing over rocks and enveloping them with its refreshment.
we sit on the edge now,
our feet merely dipped in enough to cool us but not to taint this water with our humanly touch.
pope and i aren't speaking.
not because there's nothing to talk about or because we're nervous,
but because we're soaking up this blissful sun and letting our ears fill with the rush of the water.
i've noticed in these past few weeks with pope,
we sometimes go hours without speaking.
and i don't rush to fill the silence because with him,
i can just exist.
i don't know if i've ever been granted that kind of blessing before.
it's nice to feel it now.
"what should we name this secret stream?"
pope asks as he leans into the sun,
eyes closed and head laid back.
i watch the column of his throat shine under this heavenly glow.
i wonder if he knows how ravishing he is.
"anahita."
pope opens his eyes and turns that head full of wonderful thoughts towards me to say,
"what was that?"
"anahita,"
i repeat through my stunned tongue.
"you know...the persian goddess of fertility, health, and water."
i let the tips of my fingers dip into the water,
where i bring the droplets hanging from them to pope's forearm.
he thanks me for cooling his sweltering skin.
"huh...it's perfect."
pope sits up then motions for me to come closer.
i follow without asking.
he moves the hair collecting at my back away from my neck then tosses it over my shoulder.
he then dampens his hands and rests them to my feverish neck.
i let out a sigh of relief beneath his touch.
how can it be that something as simple as this is nursing me of every wound my heart holds?
"is this okay?"
he asks in barely a whisper.
"yes,"
i reply in the same ghost of air.
his fingers curl around the nape of my neck,
his palm caresses it with cooled water,
the back of his hand rests there to give me peace.
everything that once burdened me is no longer.
i can't see his eyes,
but i can feel them lingering;
burning themselves into my skin to keep me warm forever.
"they should make artwork in your honor, y/n."
"it'd be pretty boring art."
"i wish you could see yourself the way i see you. you're...unreal."
i inch my head to see him over my shoulder.
he's wearing the same look of stun i wore just a few minutes prior,
when his beautiful being rested in the rays of sun.
"i don't think anyones ever...ever said such kind things to me. thank you, pope. truly."
i can see the nerves arise in his eyes.
but despite that,
he moves forward anyways.
as though his body is not his own,
as though someone else is controlling it.
pope lays the gentlest, but still so loving, kiss to my shoulder and rests there for a moment.
what more can i do but let my lips brush his temple?
as i do so,
he lets the pad of his index finger caress down a temple of my own.
"temple: a place of worship,"
he whispers against my cheek now.
his lips are nearly on top of mine;
my heart is racing in anticipation.
"i'll pray to you until my knees bleed."
my breathing seems to change tempo now that he's inches away.
it's not long until,
finally,
the space between us is closed and i am blessed with the best first kiss a woman could ever ask for.
he is sweet when he holds me,
careful to not let his eager hands caress places of privacy.
he is tender when kissing me,
but still letting an angst,
a passion,
loose that comes in the tracing of my bottom lip and in the bending to my curve.
it's not until our lungs are begging for air free of clouded aromas that we break apart.
"i hope you know i see you,"
he says through heavy breaths.
he wipes my tears away and goes to ask why i'm crying,
but before that happens,
i let my fingers touch his cheek when i reply,
"i know. i see you too."
***
a week after that very kiss,
pope told me that he often felt abandoned in this life of his.
while,
sure,
he had family who loved him and cared and friends who enjoyed his company,
there was always something missing from his life.
he said maybe if his mother had been around,
things wouldn't be the way they are now.
we had been curled up into my bed when he admitted this to me.
his head resting to my chest,
i kissed my place of worship and thanked him for telling me.
"i want to tell you everything i know. i don't know why, because i don't talk a lot, but...you fill me up on something great."
it was then i admitted how invisible i felt in my life,
how his words freed me from this curse and brought me to tears because, finally, i was seen.
he gathered me up into his arms then kissed my chin.
"oh, y/n...the greatest things are often most overlooked. but you see me and i see you."
"that's enough for me. it's enough for me."
my finger couldn't help but to trace his bottom lip.
pope smiled then kissed my wrist,
where a shiver ran through my spine.
neither of us let go of each other that night.
now the morning is here and i've hardly slept.
how can i?
the epitome of godliness is resting in my arms that i once thought were useless.
now i know they're capable of bringing comfort and warmth;
a whole new life is being opened up right in front of me.
i find myself carefully placing kisses to his cheek as he sleeps peacefully against me.
i hope this quiet confessions of love seep into his skin and sink into his memory.
i think about what our futures may hold.
my mind can't help but wonder if maybe he'll grow bored of me.
if he'll find my life of solitude boring then toss me aside for someone greater.
i cannot say i blame him.
but within these few weeks of being beside him,
hearing his thoughts of complexity,
his laughter,
feeling his skin to mine,
i can't help but to wonder if two halves are becoming whole.
my thoughts are interrupted when pope stirs awake,
basking in the glow of the sun that's just beginning to rise.
"you okay?"
he wonders through the sleep in his voice.
i relax beneath his caress to my cheek.
"do you think you'll ever tire of me?"
he grows quiet for a moment and i'm left to wonder if i've ruined this moment.
"no. you're full of life. you are someone with an existence that never stops expanding. i'm sorry you've been convinced otherwise, y/n, but growing tired of you would be like asking the birds to stop singing their songs: impossible."
i run my hands down his back and nod.
again,
tears spring to my eyes.
i am being noticed and it's still so hard to accept.
pope doesn't say anything,
instead he wipes them away as they fall.
"i feel whole with you."
when he says this,
there's no doubt in my mind that we're right where we belong.
my life of trials almost seems worth it to be here with pope heyward.
i savor this moment as much as i can.
i don't want to forget it so long as i live:
the invisible girl is finally loved.
"i'm home with you,"
i reply.
"home...that's exactly how this feels."
he rests his lips to mine after he speaks.
it's sweet when he does so.
after a long life of being led astray,
we are home.
***
pope and i discovered many secrets of the town that summer.
however,
the greatest one we uncovered was each other.
i had no idea that the seemingly fateful meeting of us on the beach would have led to this;
to me remembering how he takes his coffee,
to him kissing the scars i've amassed in my life,
to me tracing the angel kisses collecting down his chest,
to him caressing my greatest flaws with the greatest care.
pope took up art classes that same summer.
he's been working on pieces of me for eons now,
it seems.
each one becomes a little bit better than the last,
and each time i am brought to tears.
i will be remembered.
i have been brought to my greatest potential by indulging in a love so pure and so rare.
pope has made sure of it.
autumn is drawing upon us.
we can feel it in the thick air,
the promise of nipping winds and barren trees.
but still,
pope lies in the sun like he did that very day and still,
i can only stare in admiration.
i draw my name onto his back with my fingertip as he does so.
he chuckles quietly when i finish.
"y/n. my y/n. i'm forever yours."
"as i am yours. even outside of time."
and that is how i came to existence.
how i realized that the words left ignored by others were not something of my fault,
but they were words not meant for their consumption.
how the life of living in the shadows was merely waiting to step into the shining sun.
pope heyward is my shining sun,
the man who took my greatest qualities and praised them for all their wonder.
i have always been someone beautiful, someone worth listening to, someone smart, someone kind.
pope did not make this woman,
he simply brought her from the shadows and showed her a life of light.
two halves have made themselves whole again;
they are home.