|Love Language for Beginners
Author: Mere Nova PM
I always see him on the 2:35pm bus every day. I like him, and I'm sure he likes me. But there are two issues standing in the way of our potential romance. One - I'm a dork. Two - he doesn't speak English. I need a love language class, stat!Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Chapters: 4 - Words: 5,085 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 05-18-12 - Published: 05-15-12 - id: 3022901
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The drawing is in an envelope tucked in my hand.
He sits across from me, stealing a glance every now and again while listening to his iPhone. Even when he's dressed casually, he looks so good. He's wearing a black hoodie ,a gray t-shirt, jeans, and Chuck Taylors. Meanwhile, I'm dressed in my black-and-white striped hood sweater and jeans, and I feel like an absolute slob.
I shake away the self-deprecating thoughts. No, Mari, focus! You don't have time to rag on yourself. You need to give him the envelope.
Okay, I'm going to this.
I'm ready to do this. I'll just slide right over, bow deeply, and give him this envelope.
Okay, going to get up right now.
Why the hell am I not moving?
Because I'm terrified, that's why.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Last night, I worked so hard on this sketch, and I was convinced that I would give it to him, and he would like it, and instantly, we'd be able to communicate and get all lovey-dovey and what-not (insert dream sequence here). But now that the moment of truth has arrived, I'm quaking in my boots like a little bitch.
The course of true love never did run straight…or what is smooth?
Either way, this just got real.
Come on, Mari, do this. You can do this! You're not that bad looking! You're really smart! You'll never be an Ulzzang, but you're not a Brunhilda either! Go on…go on and give it to him. Yesterday was so awesome, being able to communicate with him. You've got to keep it going…
But I can't…
Yes, I can!
No, I can't.
The loud buzzing of the stop signal breaks up my thoughts. In the corner of my eye, I can see him rising from his seat. I blink and survey the outside surrounding.
Oh crap! We're coming to his stop!
Geez, time flies when you're lost in thought.
I can't let him get off the bus! I haven't given him the envelope! But he's already at the door and the bus is coming to a stop. He'll be off the bus in the blink of an eye…
Scratch that…he's off the bus in the blink of an eye.
And now, I'm about to head off to my final destination…
This envelope is still in my hands…
And I'm just sitting here as the bus prepares to pull off.
My mind, however, is on overload. OMG – seriously? You went through all that trouble to sketch that drawing and you're just letting him get away? Aw, hell naw – WAKE UP, STUPID! WAKE UP!
It takes a moment before something snaps in my head, and then I'm screaming toward the front of the bus, scrambling for the exit.
"WAIT! I NEED TO GET OFF HERE! LET ME OFF!"
The bus driver brakes hard, and I nearly go flying to the front. I quickly regain my balance and rush off the bus. The driver is yelling at me, but I don't care. I am on a mission now, and I must complete it, fear be damned!
Besides, the bus runs every ten minutes. It's not like I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere.
He's still at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. I rush over to him, beside myself. I have to do this. I have to do this! I have to…before the fear comes back.
"Wait!" I cry to him! "Wait!"
Thankfully, he understands the word. He looks over to me, puzzled. I rush over so that I'm standing before him. I give him my deepest bow (which conveniently covers up my frantic gasping for air) and present him with the envelope.
"Please…take…this," I manage between breaths. "Please."
He doesn't take it. I can sense his confusion. I push the envelope forward.
"Please…take…this," I say again. I pray that he can somehow understand me. "I…made this…for you."
I can feel him hemming and hawing, wondering what it is I have in my hand and whether or not he should take it. Meanwhile, I'm fading fast. I'm wondering if I've caused a mini-International incident by barreling out of the bus like a mad woman, eliminating all personal space while thrusting this mysterious envelope in front of him. I wonder if this is worth it, and for a split second, I begin to believe that it's impossible for us to communicate…
And then, gingerly, he takes the envelope from my hands.
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Slowly, I rise from my haphazard curtsy, and our eyes meet. His smile and soft and warm and makes me feel all goofy inside. A silly little smile spreads across my face when I realize that this was worth all the trouble. The traffic breezes by, one speedy car after another, but I pay no mind to it. The world could fade away at any moment and I could care less.
This is the closest I've ever been to him. I just realized that now. I'm afraid and I'm enthralled all at once.
"It's a drawing." I mimic the gesture of drawing with my hands, in hopes that he will understand. Then, I make a heart with my hands. "I hope you like it."
He smiles even brighter. He gets it, and I'm relieved. Again, somehow I'm getting the message across, even though we don't speak the same language.
"Thank you," he says in an accented whisper.
Happy little sigh.
We stare at each other for what seems like…well, you know…before he turns to head off to his house, I assume. I wave goodbye to him, and he waves goodbye to me. I watch as he disappears into the city. He looks back at me a few times before moving forward.
Another happy little sigh.
Oh yeah…waiting ten minutes for the next bus is totally worth it.
And somehow…I know that giving him the sketch will be worth it as well.
Another day, another 2:35pm bus.
I board the bus at my stop, and he boards the bus at his.
We sit across from each other, as usual, but this time, the distance between us is lessened. Instead of sitting beside the opposite window, only one seat separates us.
My heart is flying.
He remains silent, though, and that worries me. I wonder if he's opened the envelope yet. I wonder if he's seen the drawing. I wonder if he likes the drawing. I wonder if he doesn't like the drawing. I wonder if he's sitting closer to me because he likes the drawing. I wonder if he's sitting beside me because he's about to yell at me in furious Korean, and while I won't understand a word of it, I'll get the hint that he wants nothing more to do with me.
I worry myself too much sometimes.
The bus stops at a light, and I hear something placed beside me. I look down to see a CD in a jewel case.
He smiles proudly, gesturing toward it. He's the one who put it there.
Now, I give him a puzzled look. I point to myself. "For me?"
He nods over and over. For you.
Gingerly, I take the CD in my hands. The word "Butterfly" is written in big, bold letters. I'm not sure what it means, but I intend to find out.
"Thank you." My jaws hurt from smiling so much.
He cell phone rings, and after checking the caller ID, he gives me a glance as if to say, "I have to take this". I nod as he starts his spirited conversation in Korean. I look at the jewel case, wonder what butterflies the CD holds.
In any case, it's safe to say that he liked the sketch.