Letters of a Limerent by Valdis Mallory | Fiction | Sunny Naptime

To You, B.

I don’t paint but if I could, you would be my muse. I would capture those eyes that glimmer every time your smiles reach them. Next, I would capture those smiles, the way the creases on your thin lips disappear, the way a pair of shallow smile lines appear on the corners of your mouth, and even the way your chin crumple.

 

You know, I once overheard you say that you think the beauty marks all over your face are unpleasant. I didn’t tell you then but, just so you know, they’re not. In fact, they’re the reason I began to love mine.

I remember you said one time that your hair is too thin. Buddy, it’s simply because it’s a light shade of brown that’s why it looks like that to you. Your hair added to your beauty. I remember every time the morning sun shine on the jalousie windows, it caresses your hair and that was the second most magical moment that would happen on that day. Yup, I just ranked that second. Actually, the used to be the absolute magical moment until something topped it.

It was a random morning. I was moved seats and got to be seated beside you. The classroom was packed with students. If I remember correctly, there were forty to fifty pupils and so the armchairs were squished together. Sitting beside you, do you know how many times my breath hitched and my heart skipped beats whenever our arms brushed? You know, I was a very squiggly kid. I move around ad can’t stand being stiff but on that day, I kept my head forward, unable to move my head to your direction. You know, I was also talkative. Not loud, though, because I was a coward and didn’t want the teachers to know I’m talking and be told off. I was simply talkative. I had so many things running in my head. But on that day, boy, there was nothing in my mind but the realization that I was sitting next to you. I was conscious. Something was blocking my throat, probably my erratic heart, and I kept swallowing it. I was trying not to make a sound that I even held my breath every once in a while.
 
Then the Math teacher held a short quiz. It was problem-solving involving some three-dimensional geometric computations of some sort. We answered the problem for like two-thirds of the class period, exchanged answer sheets, and checked the answers. My head wasn’t in the right state and boy did I get a zero. Looking back, that was very embarrassing. I had blamed it then on not being able to review the lessons properly but, actually, it was you. That’s right. You.
 
You must’ve noticed. After all, I was ridiculously tensed and hadn’t been moving or speaking. You glanced my way. Buddy, please.
 
By the end of that class period, you attempted to hold a conversation for the nth time (I’m sorry). I don’t remember what you’d said back then (must’ve been my score, I don’t know) but it made me finally look at you. I realized that, for the first time, I was seeing you up close. Mr. Sun was streaming through the jalousies as usual. Strips of light rained on your hair and combed through the brown strands. That same light kissed your eyes, slipping through your lashes, and dancing on your brown irises. You squinted a little and that just made your eyes glimmer. You were the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. If morning was a person, it would be you. I’ve hated mornings but if it’s you, I would even leave the curtains open while awaiting you to rise. And when you do, I would stare.
 
Speaking of stare, I now realized why people would dare to stare at the sun even though it hurt. It’s because it’s bright and dazzling just like you.
 
If I could paint, I would paint that very moment.