Couldn’t Bring Myself to Love Him — Girls, be honest—who here is Lily? — The woman eyed me and my friend with a cheeky grin. —I’m Lily. Why? — I replied, perplexed. —Here’s a letter for you, Lily. It’s from William, — the stranger produced a crumpled envelope from her dressing gown pocket and handed it to me. —From William? Where is he? — I asked, surprised. —He’s been moved to the adult care home. He waited for you, Lily, like a miracle from heaven. Wore his eyes out. He asked me to check his spelling before he gave me the letter to read. Didn’t want to embarrass himself before you. Well, lunch is soon. I work here, I’m one of the carers, — she gave me a reproachful glance, sighed, and hurried off. …One summer, my friend Sally and I strolled onto the grounds of an unknown institution. We were sixteen, enjoying the freedom of the holidays, craving adventure. Sally and I sat on a welcoming bench, chatting and laughing. We didn’t notice two lads approaching. —Hello, girls! Bit bored, are you? Shall we get acquainted? — One boy reached out, — William. I answered, —I’m Lily, and this is my mate Sally. And your quiet friend? —Leonard, — the second lad said softly. The boys struck us as old-fashioned and far too proper. William frowned and remarked, —Girls, why do you wear such short skirts? And Sally’s neckline is rather revealing. —Hmm… Boys, don’t look where you shouldn’t. Or you’ll go cross-eyed, — Sally and I teased, laughing. —Hard not to look. We are men, after all. What, do you smoke too? — William asked, persistent in his prim manner. —Of course we smoke. But only for show, — we joked. It was then Sally and I noticed something odd about the lads’ legs. William could barely walk, Leonard had a noticeable limp. —Are you being treated here? — I guessed. —Yes. I had a motorbike accident. Leonard misjudged a dive off the rocks, — William replied, reciting a well-worn story. — We’ll be discharged soon. Sally and I believed the boys without question. We had no clue William and Leonard were disabled from childhood, consigned to long-term care. To them, we were a taste of freedom. They lived and learned at a locked-away care home, each child inventing a story about some accident or fall or fight… William and Leonard turned out to be clever, witty, and mature beyond their years. Sally and I began visiting regularly—first, because we felt sorry for them and wanted to cheer them up; second, because we could learn so much from them. It became our weekly habit. William gifted me flowers picked from the nearest garden, Leonard always brought handmade origami, shyly pressing them into Sally’s hands. We’d all four squeeze onto the same bench: William at my side, Leonard turning his back, focussing entirely on Sally. My friend blushed, but she liked the attention from such a gentle soul. We chatted about everything and nothing. The summer slipped away in a haze of laughter and sunshine. Autumn arrived rainy and cold. School resumed. And, with Molly and I facing our final year, we simply forgot about William and Leonard. …Exams came and went, then the prom. Summer once more—full of hopes and new beginnings. Sally and I returned to the care home, thinking to visit our old friends. We settled on our usual bench, waiting for William and Leonard. William with his bunch of flowers, Leonard with his latest origami. We waited two hours, in vain. Suddenly a woman darted from the home and handed me William’s letter. I tore open the envelope: “Beloved Lily! You are my fragrant flower! My unattainable star! You might not have realised that I fell for you at first sight. Our meetings were my breath, my life. For six months, I stared out the window, hoping to see you. You forgot me. How it hurts! Our paths are different now. Still, I’m grateful to you for teaching me real love. I remember your velvet voice, your alluring smile, your gentle touch. Life without you, Lily, is unbearable! I’d give anything to see you one more time! I want to breathe, but I cannot… Leonard and I both turned eighteen. We’re being transferred this spring. We’re unlikely to meet again. My heart is in shreds! I hope I recover from loving you. Farewell, my dearest!” Signed, “Forever yours, William.” Inside the envelope I found a pressed flower. Guilt overwhelmed me. My heart ached that nothing could be changed. I remembered the saying: “We are responsible for those we have tamed.” I never imagined the depth of William’s feelings; I could never return them. I felt only friendly curiosity toward such an intelligent young man. Yes, I’d flirted a bit and teased him—but I had no idea my light-heartedness would fuel a fire that became a raging passion for William. …Many, many years have passed since then. William’s letter yellowed; the fly became dust. But I remember those innocent meetings, our carefree chats, and William’s infectious laughter. …And the story had a sequel: my friend Sally was moved by Leonard’s difficult fate. His parents rejected him for his “difference.” His leg was much shorter than the other. Sally finished teacher training and now works with disabled children. Leonard became her beloved husband. They have two grown sons. William, Leonard says, spent many years alone. When he was forty, his mother visited, saw her forsaken son, broke down in tears, rediscovered her love, and took him home to the countryside. What happened after has faded into mystery…

COULDNT LOVE

Ladies, come on, fess up, whos Lily? The girl cast a cunning glance our way, her tone conspiratorial.

Im Lily. Why? I replied, rather taken aback.

Hereletter for you, Lily. From Victor, she said, pulling a crumpled envelope from the pocket of her dressing gown and handing it to me.

From Victor? Where is he? I asked, wide-eyed.

Hes been transferred to the adult home. Waited for you like salvation, did Victor. Wore his eyes out looking. Even had me check this letter for mistakesdidn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you. Anyway, must dashlunch soon. Im the supervisor here! Casting a mildly reproachful look, she sighed deeply before scurrying off.

It all started last summer, with the insane optimism granted by sixteen-year-old freedom. My mate Susan and I, hungry for mischief, wandered into the grounds of a mysterious institution. We plopped onto a convenient bench, swapped stories, and giggled until reality made an entrancetwo boys strolled up.

Alright! Bored, are you? Fancy a chat? one said, extending a polite hand. Victor.

Im Lily, this is my friend Susan. And the quiet chap? I nodded at boy number two, who barely raised his eyes.

Leonard, murmured the second lad.

They felt almost comically out of date, all stiff shirts and earnest expressions. Victor fixed us with a serious face and observed, Girls, those skirts could do with a few extra inches. And Susan, your neckline! Bit daring, isnt it?

Oh, lads, steady oneyes front! Wouldnt want you both looking two different ways by accident! We burst out laughing, Susan doubling over.

Victor soldiered on with his investigations. Reckon you smoke as well, do you?

Obviouslyjust never properly! We grinned, thoroughly enjoying the wind-up.

Only then did we notice something off about their legs. Victor limped, Leonards walk was uneven.

You two getting treatment here? I asked, only half-joking.

Yeah. I had a motorbike crash, Leonard botched a cliff dive. Victor replied, rattling off their tales as though rehearsed. Well be out soon.

Of course, we believed every word of their heroic sagas. Not a clue they were childhood invalids, set for the long haul at the home, each equipped with a crash or a brawl or a bad fall to explain their struggles. For Victor and Leonard, Susan and I were a breath of the outside world.

They lived, learned and laughed in that closed-off place. Honestly, the two were refreshingly sharp and wittywise beyond their years.

So, Susan and I became regulars, visiting every weekpartly out of compassion, partly for their sparkling conversation. The habit quickly stuck.

Victor would pick flowers from the nearby border and hand me a slightly squashed bouquet. Leonard, bashful and sweet, turned up with origami for Susan, every single time.

Wed all crowd onto one creaky benchVictor edging close to me, Leonard twisting round, giving Susan all his attention. Shed blush, but you could tell she loved being with shy Leonard. Wed chat about nothing and everything.

Then, summer slipped by like a warm daydream.

Autumn arrived, wet and unwelcome. School called us backfinal year, exams on the horizon. Susan and I forgot all about our accidental friendships with Victor and Leonard.

Exams came and went, last bell, leavers partyall the usual. Ahead lay the holy grail: summer.

Just as the sun finally showed, Susan and I gravitated back to the home. Decided to check in on our old pals. Sat ourselves down on the trusty bench, sure wed soon see Victor with fresh flowers, Leonard with a masterpiece of origami. But after two hours, no luck.

Suddenly, the supervisor girl appeared and handed me Victors letter. I ripped the envelope open:

My dearest Lily! Youre my fragrant blossom! My unreachable star! Perhaps you never knew I was smitten from day one. Meeting you was breathing itself. Six months Ive watched that window, hoping. You forgot me. What a pity. Our paths have split. Still, Im gratefulIve tasted real love. I remember your velvet voice, irresistible smile, gentle hands. It hurts so much without you, Lily! If only I could see you once more! I cant breathe.

Leonard and I are eighteen now. Well be moved come spring, and I doubt well cross paths again. My souls in tatters! Pray I recover from loving you.

Farewell, my darling!

Signed, Forever yours, Victor.

Inside with the letter: a pressed flower.

Honestly, I felt dreadful. Heart squeezed tight with regretnothing I could do. The old saying popped into my head: Youre responsible for those you befriend.

Id had no idea what tempests whirled in Victors heart. I could never have matched his passiondidnt have any of those lofty feelings for him. Fondness, curiosity, camaraderie, nothing deeper. Yes, I flirted a bit, teased Victor, stoked his affection. Never imagined my casual banter was kindling a bonfire in his heart.

Years have flown by since. The letter is yellow, the flower crumbled to dust. But I remember all those innocent meetingsour chatty afternoons, our raucous laughter at Victors jokes.

Theres a twist to the tale, though. My friend Susan took Leonards story to heart. His parents couldnt handle his wonky leg and left him at the care home. Susan finished her teaching degree, now works at a home for disabled children. Leonard? Her adored husband. Theyve got two grown sons.

Victor, from Leonards tales, lived mostly alone. At forty, his mum appeared at the home, saw her lost sontears and sudden rediscovered affection. She whisked Victor off to her cottage in the countryside. After that who knows?

And so ends, kindly enough, a story of hearts bravely battered and healed in unexpected ways.