Multiple times, I’ve had friends tell me that I’m living in my own little fairy tale. They tell me that I believe love will conquer all—that love triumphs over all evils. “And it doesn’t,” they say. “Jade. It just doesn’t.” They try to warn me. They try to tell me. They care for me. They are worried for me. “Jade,” they say, “Love isn’t enough.” And I’ve been wrong. Oh, I know I’ve been wrong.
But a girl can get a little lost, make a mistake, get hurt…and still be in a fairytale. My Princess Bride heart echoes True Love.
And I hear their voices, warning me about love, begging me to face the harsh truths of reality, but then I look at you. Everything else is so far away. I stare into your eyes, and the space between us becomes our story. We can write our own book. When you hold me you’re the cover and I’m the pages. This is our story. This is our fairytale. Maybe you don’t believe in magic, but you believe in me, and darling, I can find all of the magic that we will ever need just by looking at you.
You smile. And a thousand voices could tell me that magic doesn’t exist, and I won’t—I will not—believe them.
When you wrap your fingers around my shoulders, I feel like I’m yours. I feel like I belong without feeling like a possession. And I like that. And when you look at things and read things, I watch you. I fall in love with the way everything interests you. There will never be enough information for you. There will never be enough time for you to learn all that you want to learn. And what I love about it the most is that nothing will ever stop you from trying.
And my favorite game I play with you:
I lift my hand and hold it up. Your hand follows mine. Your fingers tangle with mine.
Your hand rests on my leg. I throw your hand off of my leg and away. You bring it right back to where it was on my leg.
I pick your hand up, place it firmly on your side. You lift your hand, place it firmly back on my side.
You’re my magnet.
It’s hard. Oh, I know. Nothing’s easy. Nothing has come easy to me. What would a fairytale be without a little adversity? Go ahead, be the gentleman. Hold my chin in your fingers and tell me to go meet other men. Tell me to live the full experience, to gain experience, to grow up. Open up the cage door and beckon me out to the world. Wave goodbye like a man, but turn around and leave before I walk away because you can’t watch me go. The Big Apple is a big place, and I know you want me to get a taste…but I’ve already taken a bite out of something good. But go ahead, be the gentleman.
A lot happened in a month. A lot can happen in more. That’s why you think I’ll let you go. That’s why I said nothing. It hurt to know I couldn’t make you any promises. It hurt to know you understood. It hurts to know we both understand. It hurts to know we say our goodbyes without much hope. You’re too smart. You’re too in touch with reality. I’m too afraid. I’m too restless. We know a beautiful human 10 feet away is the better option than a beautiful human 10,000 miles away. And why shouldn’t we be with the beautiful human that is closest to us?
Why save myself for someone who might forget me after only a month? Why think of someone who’s thoughts are elsewhere?
It’s a good question. Maybe you’re the answer. Or maybe I’m an idiot in love.
Your lips open. You tell me to go on my own adventure. Your evergreen eyes reveal the hope that after all of this I’ll come back.
My lips quiver. I tell you to be smart because I know the word “safe” isn’t in your vocabulary. I grow frustrated with my large eyes because I want to remember everything now: I want to remember your car filling up with gasoline. I want to remember the sound of the click on the nozzle, the dreadful sound that told us our cars are full of fuel and that it was time for us to drive in opposite directions. I want to remember the way your face looked once I had gotten it wet with my own tears. I want to look up at you into those evergreens of yours… but my own damned eyes are blurred with tears.
I hardly see a thing.
All I hear is you making a bad joke about a love triangle. A really terribly bad joke referencing The Hobbit. And the worst part and the best part is that it makes me laugh.
It was time. You open my car door. You shut me in. The glass between us feels thicker than it was. You carve your heart into the glass with your fingers. You wave goodbye. I watch you drive north. You disappear.
Can we play my favorite game?
I lift my hand and hold it out. . .