Little Bird

I don't care what anyone tells me, I was loved once. Sometimes it feels like centuries ago, other times I remember it like yesterday. Gentle kisses. Tender caresses. Sweet nothings whispered under the covers in the middle of the night, our own private paradise. You're beautiful, you're intelligent, you're unique. In the beginning it felt wrong to preen at those compliments but eventually I grew to believe them. I hadn't been but a little over a decade old yet I loved with the passion and ferocity of a woman married twenty years. I loved harder then than I do now. I was loved in return. It wasn't sick or immoral. How could a love so strong be wrong? How could a love so true be forged? To spend nights in each other’s company, hidden from the prejudices of a society who would condemn a pair of lovers for roaming lips and tangled limbs.

When we met he was twenty-four years my senior. The exact age didn't matter; at ten anyone over the age of sixteen was ancient in my eyes. He had a playful persona and I was lonely. I had no siblings and no real friends, only the ones I made up in my head. I spent my days drawing or reading when Madame Beale wasn't around to give me lessons in arithmetic, World literature, and Latin. Along with singing lessons from Madame Strang on Saturday evenings. Mother grew sick after father fell out of love with her and into the heart of another. I believe it was the heartache that caused her pain. No prescription could heal that, that didn't stop the doctors from writing them.

A corner shop opened a short ways down the road. On my tenth birthday I stole sixty cents from mothers clutch and rode my bike there singing nursery rhymes. I only wanted a soda and something sweet. I found the sweetest thing of all. I found him.

"Hey there little lady, what can I get you?" The shop keeper asked when I walked in. I smiled politely and told him I wanted to look around first. It was early and the shop wasn't well known. It was practically empty save for the owner and one of his employees. The employee followed me around the store, subtly of course but I had a sharp eye. I thought it was to make sure I didn't steal anything. I didn't know it was love at first sight, as he told me many months later.

"Your hair was still wet from your shower. I didn't know such a brilliant blonde existed until I saw you that morning. It was just a small store yet your eyes were filled with such wonder, your petite hands picking up every sugary thing in sight. Did you forger you only had fifty cents, [i/]mon chérie?" He would tease. I always laughed and threw myself into his lap.

"Sixty cents actually. You know that père." A pat on his cheek and a kiss on his lips, hidden under the shade of a blossoming cherry tree.

I was stuck between a Clark bar and a Vanilla crisp. He walked over to me and pointed to the candy bar.

"These are my favorite," he told me gesturing towards the Clark bar, "Have you ever tried it, petit?" I looked up at him and shook my head. He lips curved into a wide grin, only his top row of teeth showing. Though terribly crooked, his smile was nice. Charming. He took the candy from my hand, fingers brushing against my own, and opened it. He took a bite before pressing the chocolate covered crisp to my lips.

"You try. It’s good, I promise." I felt compelled to obey him, this stranger. Plain yet inviting. Short, dark hair and sad green eyes. I don't know what made his eyes so sullen, though he smiled. Maybe he was lonely, unloved and misunderstood. My poor poor darling, my secret lover in the dead of the night. If only I had come to him sooner, a frown would have never graced his lips. A tear never to escape from his green orbs.

I opened my mouth slightly and he pushed the sweet in, pupils dilating rapidly. I bit, I chewed, a soft sound of appreciation left my throat. Somewhere between a moan and a sigh. He dropped the candy bar as if it caught fire and turned away briskly. I picked it up and bought it, despite it falling on the floor. I also bought a cherry soda. The total cost is sixty five cents but the shop keeper didn’t mind.

Was it fate? Destiny? A blessing or a curse? Had I gone a day before, or an hour later our meeting may not have ever occurred. Then where would we be? Would I have ever known love? Would it have been better that way? If I had never spent countless nights in the warmth his arms I would not know this coldness that envelopes me. If I had never fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat I would not know this silence that haunts me. This emptiness that drains me. This loneliness that kills me. Is it really better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all?

Madame Beale gave me high marks on my Latin oral exam. Mother was so proud she promised we could have a picnic in the garden. She gave me ten dollars to buy bread, sandwich meat, and sugar for lemonade. If I had extra I could get an ice pop. Days when mother got out of bed were few and I was so excited I ran all the way to shop. I didn’t care about the dust my purple sneakers kicked up. Excitement filled me to the brim, from the tips of my toes to the ends of my plaited pigtails. I made up a little tune, humming it softly along the way. I ran right into a broad chest, clothed in only a light blue short-sleeved button up.

"My apologies sir." I said hurriedly looking up at the Clark bar man. He smiled and lightly grasped my shoulders to steady me. "That's ok little one. Ralentir."

I blushed, unable to look away from his emerald gaze.

"I don't speak French sir. Only English, and Latin." His large hands still held on to my shoulders, thumbs caressing my joints in small circles. Simple touches that meant nothing, only when I look back to that day, that moment they mean everything. Everything.

"That's very impressive but French is the language of love. Don't you want to be in love, little one" he asks, hands gliding down my arms. His fingers circle my wrists loosely.

"Yes sir, of course." I say nodding. Why did I let him touch me so? It didn't feel like a stranger's grasp, but an older brother. Perhaps a father figure. Maybe just a friend.

"Tell your mother and father you wish to learn French. You'll have access to all the best literature." Like last time I was compelled to listen. I nodded. A tiny bell rang signaling someone exiting the store. He let go of my wrists and side stepped me, only to continue sweeping the sidewalk. I walked into the store. I found everything on my mental list, bread, turkey, and sugar. I had enough for ice cream but I decided to get the same, white and red wrapped candy bar instead. Oh how he moved me.