COULDNT FALL IN LOVE
Tuesday, late afternoon. Sitting with Sophie, my old mate from school, when a woman with a mischievous twinkle in her eye scrutinised us from across the bench.
Right, girls, she said, whos Lily amongst you?
Thatd be me. Why? I replied, confused.
Here, Lily. A letter from William, she announced, pulling a crumpled envelope from her cardigan pocket and handing it to me.
From William? But where is he? I asked, perplexed.
Hes been transferred adult care home now. He waited for you, Lily, you know. Watched out the window for ages. This letter, he asked me to check for spelling. Didnt want to make a fool of himself in front of you. Anyway, Ive got to dash nearly suppertime. I work here as carer, she said, giving me a stern glance before hurrying off.
It all started the previous summer. Sophie and I, sixteen and bursting with energy, wandered past the gates of a residential home on a whim. The holidays made us hopeful, longing for excitement. We found a comfy bench, started chatting and giggling, and didnt notice two young lads sauntering up.
Afternoon, ladies! Not bored, I hope? Mind if we join you? The first lad, offering a handshake, introduced himself: William.
I replied, Lily. And this is my friend Sophie. What about your quiet mate?
Leonard, the second lad mumbled.
William and Leonard seemed proper old-fashioned, rule-abiding. William, ever the serious one, immediately commented, Girls, why the short skirts? And Sophies top too revealing, eh?
Oh, lads, dont peek where you shouldnt. Or else your eyes will wander off! Sophie and I laughed.
Hard not to peek. Were men, after all. Do you smoke, too? William continued his line of questioning, ever the prude.
Suppose we do. Socially, we joked.
Thats when Sophie and I clocked something off with their legs. William moved with difficulty; Leonard limped quite noticeably.
You here for treatment, then? I ventured.
Yeah. I had a bike accident. Leonard took a bad leap into the river, William said, reciting his story as if off a script. Well be leaving soon.
We had no reason to doubt their explanations. Back then, we never guessed William and Leonard were disabled since childhood, living long-term in care. Our visits were a rare glimpse of freedom for them.
Their stories, well-rehearsed: an accident, a fall, a scrap that went wrong anything to hide the real reasons.
Truth is, they were interesting blokes, well-read and wise for their years. Sophie and I ended up visiting weekly. Partly out of sympathy, wanting to cheer them up, partly because they taught us so much.
Over time, these visits became routine. William brought me handfuls of flowers from the garden; Leonard shyly gave Sophie paper cranes hed made.
Soon, all four of us perched on that same bench: William sat beside me, Leonard faced Sophie, his attention fixed on her. Sophie blushed but, I could tell, enjoyed Leonards company. Wed chat for hours sometimes about nothing at all.
Summer, golden and mild, passed in a heartbeat. Autumn came, all rain and grey, and our visits stopped as school started up again. Exams, final assemblies, the leavers ball those familiar mates, William and Leonard, faded in our memories.
Come early summer, as hope bloomed again, Sophie and I wandered past the home, hoping to see the boys. We sat on the old bench, expecting William with his fresh daisies, Leonard with a new origami bird. We waited, two hours, no sign.
Suddenly, the carer from before approached, handed me Williams letter. I tore open the envelope:
My dearest Lily! Youre the English rose I chase but cannot reach! Truth is, my heart was yours from the start. Every meeting, every laugh breathed life into me. Half a year Ive stared through this window, waiting. Youve moved on. Such a shame. Our paths, it seems, go separate ways. Thank you youve shown me what real love is. I remember your gentle voice, irresistible smile, soft hands. It hurts, Lily I wish I could see you, just once more. I want to breathe, but I cant
Leonard and I have turned eighteen. This spring, we move to a new home. I doubt well ever cross paths. My souls in pieces! Perhaps Ill get over you in time.
Farewell forever yours, William.
Inside the envelope, a pressed flower.
A wave of guilt crashed down on me. My heart sank, realising nothing could change the past. The words we are responsible for those we make our own echoed in my head.
I never knew William felt so deeply. But I couldnt reciprocate my feelings for William were warm, friendly, but nothing more. I teased, flirted a bit, perhaps led him on. Never realised itd spark a blaze in his heart.
Years slipped by like sand through fingers. Williams letter faded, the flower crumbled to dust. Still, I remember those innocent meetings, carefree banter, laughter at Williams jokes.
The story did go on, though. Sophie, moved by Leonards situation his parents abandoning him, unable to accept his difference (one leg shorter from birth) finished teacher training and became a carer at the childrens home. Leonard became Sophies loving husband, and theyve two grown sons now.
William, Leonard told me years later, lived most of his life in solitude. Around forty, his mother finally visited, saw her neglected boy, wept, rediscovered her love, and took him home to her little village. After that, nobody heard of William again.
Reflecting now, I realise carelessness with anothers feelings can leave marks deeper than we ever intend. Being responsible for the hearts we touch thats a lesson it took me years to understand.
