A Love to Live For (14 page)

Indeed, I might have been crying but I didn’t really feel sad. I truly felt happy to have spent time with those children and I felt as if I had learned a lot from them.

From Tammy, I learned that when you are suffering, it is only natural to feel that people pity you, because there is a part of you that pities yourself. When people do something for you, you feel that they are only doing it out of pity, unless they clearly say otherwise.

From all of them, I learned an even more important lesson, though – how precious life was. I had forgotten about that. Indeed, I had been taking the fact that Joseph was no longer dying for granted. I should have been happy for him. I should have been happy myself, and very grateful since it was almost like a miracle, after all. Instead, I had been angry at him for not telling me about it.

It was sadly strange, but back when he was dying, we got along well and now that he had so many years to live, we weren’t talking to each other. Just like that, we had gone from appreciating life and making the most of it to taking it for granted, all because now, there was a lot of it to live.

It was such an irony.

And it was just stupid.

Suddenly, as if my eyes had been blinded the whole time and could finally see, I realized what I had done wrong and somehow, I knew what I had to do to make it right.

My prayer had been answered.

To my surprise, Joseph’s sister, Bridget, was standing outside the house where I was staying when I got there.

“Bridget?” I asked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled weakly. “I had something to do here, so I thought I’d come see you. I asked your father where you were staying. I hope you don’t mind. I tried to ask your sisters first but they were adamant on letting me contact you, saying that you wanted to be alone.”

As I imagined my two sisters saying that, I grinned. We might not get along all the time, but I supposed we truly did care for each other. That was an uplifting thought, but it still did not answer my question.

Seemingly realizing that, Bridget went on. “I came to give you this.” She gave me a folded piece of paper. “It’s a letter from Joseph.”

“Joseph wrote me a letter?”

“Well, yes and not exactly,” Bridget said. “I mean, this letter was meant for you but he wrote this some time ago.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When Joseph found out that he was dying, he started writing letters to people – I think he might have wanted to leave nothing left unsaid – and one of them was for you,” Bridget explained. “He tossed them out now. I think he was planning on burning them. I suppose there’s no need for them anymore but I managed to get some of them, and I thought you might want to read this.”

Reluctantly, I took the letter from her. “Let me just get this straight. He wrote this before he asked me out, right?”

Bridget nodded.

“So what’s written here might not be true anymore. So much has happened after all.”

“Oh, I think he still feels the same way,” Bridget said. “I think he still loves you and I’m hoping that this will convince you somehow.”

Those words made me curious about what the letter contained and as soon as Bridget had left, I went into the guest room, which had been my room for the past few days, then, I sat on the edge of the bed and started reading it.

Dear Rebecca,

By the time you read this, I might be gone. To where, I do not know exactly. Will you cry, I wonder. While you’ve never been the kind of person to cry at the smallest things, I’ve seen you cry several times when you were sad or upset so there’s a chance you might be crying now, but please don’t. You look prettier when you smile.

Why am I writing to you? I don’t even know the reason. I’ve never been the kind of person to write letters. But I guess I just wanted you to know that you’re a special, amazing person. You always seem like you’re doubting yourself, wondering if you’re good enough or pretty enough or smart enough. Well, I think you are. I know you are.

I know because I’ve been watching you for a long time. Wait, that sounds a little creepy. Anyway, I wasn’t stalking you or anything. You just happened to catch my eyes a lot. You’re fun to watch, after all, and you always manage to surprise me.

I remember when we were in fifth grade, someone returned a book that you allowed her to borrow – Leah, I think. The book’s cover was torn and you looked like you were about to cry. You even looked at Leah’s back like you wanted to go after her and push her down or hit her, but instead, you did your best to repair the book’s cover and then you hugged it. At that time, I remember being envious of that book, because you seemed to like it so much, because you treated it more like a friend than an object.

 I remember, too, that once I was watching you play table tennis. I liked watching you play. You were always so focused, like it was more than a sport, more than a game, and you were just passionate about it. You were losing then. Your opponent was strong but you never gave up. I know that you were getting tired and that you probably felt like giving up, but you didn’t. When you lost, you disappeared for a while and when you came back, I knew you’d been crying. I wanted to tell you not to cry, to just be proud of yourself because you gave it your best, but I was a coward. I still am.

If I wasn’t a coward, I would have approached you and told you I liked you. Somehow, I think I always have.

Anyway, I suppose you know it now. I like you. I even think I love you. There is, after all, nothing not to love about you. You’re smart and you’re strong. You’re beautiful even if you don’t know it. Sure, you can be stubborn. You can be bossy sometimes, with this scary look on your face, and sometimes, you just frown for no reason, or maybe some reason I don’t know, but I love you just the same.

I hope you will find someone to love who deserves it – that person is certainly lucky. And more than that, I hope you will find someone to love you and not be afraid to show it to everyone, unlike me.

More than anything, I hope that you will be happy.

                                                                                                                        Joseph

I folded the piece of paper, which was already stained with one teardrop, and placed it on the nightstand. Then, I buried my face in a pillow, crying.

Joseph loved me. He really did love me.

I cried some more, letting my sadness out. Then, I wiped my tears and sat up.

If Joseph had died and I had received that letter, yes, I should be crying, but he was alive. He was alive and well, and so crying was a waste of time.

I had thought crying was a waste of time back when I thought Joseph was dying and it was still a waste now that he was alive. I had, after all, something better to do, something else I should do.

I was done with running away.

The next day, I thanked my Dad’s friend and his wife for their hospitality, and then headed back home. Because I had quite a large duffel bag, I decided to stop by at our house first, grateful when there wasn’t anyone there. Then, I went to Joseph’s house and when no one seemed home there, too, I went to the flower shop.

Joseph was there, arranging some flowers, busy with his task as he was on that day he asked me out.

He was so busy, in fact, that he didn’t notice my presence until I cleared my throat.

Quickly, he turned around, his expression first one of sheer surprise, then joy and then sadness, which meant he was probably happy to see me but was not sure if he should be.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I wanted to see you,” I told him. “And talk to you.”

He nodded. “I suppose there are things that must be said.”

“There are,” I agreed.

I paused, and just as I was about to open my mouth to speak, he spoke.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca,” he said. “I really am. I should have told you. I should have told you as soon as I came back.”

“Yes, you should have,” I told him. “But I forgive you. I also should not have reacted the way I did. I should have just been happy for you. I mean, you weren’t going to die any more, after all, I mean, not anytime soon. We should have both been happy, not miserable.”

He said nothing.

“God gave you a second chance at life. We should both be grateful for it and cherish it.”

“I guess I was stupid, huh?” he said. “Turning into a jerk as soon as I found out I wasn’t going to die. I was just afraid, really afraid I’d lose you. The only reason I had the courage to ask you was because I was dying and I felt as if you only accepted because of that same reason, and then suddenly I found out I wasn’t dying and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, I guess it’s my fault, too,” I said. It was funny, but when two people were fighting, they both kept pointing fingers at each other, turning the tables at every opportunity, and yet if they cared for each other, when they reconciled, they were quick to admit their own faults. “As you said, I never told you I liked you and I guess I never made you feel that you were more than a friend to me. Then again, you never told me how you felt about me either.”

“I never did?” he asked, surprised. He looked around the shop, as if he was looking for a particular flower. Then, he sighed and turned to me. “I guess there really isn’t any flower that can tell you how I feel for you and just how much. At any rate, I need to say the words myself.”

He took a deep breath as he took my hands in his while I braced myself for his answer.

“I like you, Rebecca,” he said, then quickly added, “No, that’s not quite right. I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

I wanted to tell him I knew because I had read his letter but I decided to keep quiet. It was better to keep that a secret, after all. There was no harm in him not knowing about it and that way, there was no chance he would get mad at Bridget, either. Besides, I did not want to spoil the mood.

“There, I’ve finally said it,” he continued. “I love you Rebecca. Very much.”

He looked into my eyes, waiting for my response.

“Well, I admit that when I first agreed to go out with you, I didn’t see you as anything more than a friend,” I told him. Strangely, I did not feel nervous anymore, as if what I was doing was just so right. “But I’ve learned to like you more than that, and not because you were dying, but simply because you were wonderful, and then one day, I just realized I had fallen in love with you.”

He smiled.

“Now, I think I might have loved you all along,” I added.

His smile grew wider. “So will you go out with me?”

I, too smiled. “Of course, I will.”

He lifted one of my hands, pressing his lips against it. Then, he leaned closer to me. I closed my eyes, having an idea of what was about to happen and before I knew it, his lips were on mine. Never having been kissed before, I did not know how to react at first, but I simply stood still, allowing him to press his lips gently against mine, and then after a while, I pressed my lips against his, as well, and just like that, we started kissing, my hands going around his neck and his arms wrapping around my back, as if it was the most natural and perfect thing to do.