opening the door

Opening the Door

Story of reminiscence between a boy and his struggle to accept his friend’s health condition

For hours, nature continued with her dance. The seventh brick house on the old avenue was empty with the exception of my presence. The rain came down and intensified with the thunderous beating of the Lord’s drum. Palms against the walls of the butterscotch painted hallways; I closed my eyes tolerating each ripple felt through the plaster. I would show no fear. Yet with each stroke of the heavy weight, my heart felt distilled and jumped two beats. I wandered through the house and with each step, I heard the wooden planks creak at my every movement. Remnants of the light from God’s own show, flashed across my face as I shuffled on forward. Passing each room, I peered in and each was beautifully painted with pastels and lightly glazed. Then, I held my breath as I crept past her door and wondered what it’d be like, if I could breathe no more. Pausing, I paced back and slipped through into her haven.

The lavender interior blew me away with her satin spread sheets folded gently across her soft down bed. It was like, nothing had ever changed.

My brave girl through all the pain, how could you do it?

How could you not ever fear?

You may not be here, but my admiration for you will never disappear. From there, I let my mind wander from the present of eternal rain to the past, where my brave girl existed.

I first met Aella, three years ago during a rather oddly cool summer. I remember clearly her bright green eyes that shined like emeralds captivating your line of sight within moments. I know, three years doesn’t seem like very long time, but it’s incredible on how once you’ve become involve with someone you love, it’s impossible to escape or leave them.

At the time, I was a pretty bland kid. My head of straight dark brown hair begged for a cut, but I resisted its pleas as I simply loved the amusement of flipping it back, feeling the texture of the strands in between my fingers as I moved it from my face. I did this routine whenever I had a chance. One day at the park, she caught me doing this obsessive ritual. From the swings, Aella jumped with a spring with no hesitation and approached me. She dove in near my face gave me a prying odd look like that of a child filled with curiosity. I slowly looked up and the color of my cheeks drained from utter embarrassment. Yet still, her expression did not change. Her smile soon became contagious. In return, I gave a wry smile and turned away. When I got home, all I could think about was the strange girl’s magnetic gaze.

Each day, I returned to the park and saw her cheerfully swinging on the same rusty chained swing with her radiant brunette curls bouncing about. It seemed like Time didn’t care for her. It was as if he missed her and stalked others as she continued her activities with youthful joy.

Eventually, I did get to know Aella the first summer. She was my irreplaceable gift. Her enthusiastic cheer and encouragement keep our morality up even when the summer came to a closure. We vowed to keep in touch as any other pair of friends should during the year.

Each week, I received long handwritten letters printed on rather festive lavender stationary and in return, I replied with much anticipation for another letter. By then, autumn had past and an early winter began to surface. With the coming of barren fields, Aella’s letters transformed from those worthy of novels to simple notes made without heart that came fewer than once a month. Still, despite these signs, I waited for another. When it came to a point that Aella’s letters had stopped altogether, I became concerned slumping into a deep depression yearning for summer to wake from the frozen cold.

Fortunately, Aella appeared that summer. Except as I reached out to greet her, she was not the same. Her innocence and genuine joy seemed degraded and Aella’s youth seemed to not mature but grow old. That evening, the stars twinkled brilliantly. My eyes began to water hearing her speak of her year as they reminded me of her emerald eyes. Then, she began to mumble and eventually fell silent. I held my head up and made eye contact and she resumed with more volume.

“I’m sorry, that I hadn’t been writing,” Aella swallowed and forced a smile to continue. “As the Lord has it, I’m dying.”

I thought she was kidding. I honestly did, but then I realized that I wasn’t thinking about it. I knew she was telling the truth. I only wanted to believe otherwise and live in denial.

“Say something,” Aella pleaded with concern. Honestly, I couldn’t.

How could she be this strong?

I instead pierced my lips and hugged her firmly, never wanting to let go. Then, I did.

From then on, Aella never really did discuss her condition after her confession and we carried on living with no boundaries. At sunset, I gathered up the courage to ask.

“Are you afraid Aella?”

“Of what?” she replied with a smile.

“You know… dying?” I whispered. “Fearing death as it comes closer?” I waited for a reply and to my astonishment, Aella chuckled and shook her head.

“I must be weird,” Aella twisted a shiny brown curl from her hair as she spoke, “but no, I’m not. At first, I knew for certain that I felt Fear in my presence, but odd enough Fear never latches onto me like Death can.” I shed a tear and nodded as the second summer faded away. From the corner of my eye, I sensed Aella starting to fade just as fast, but it was only my harsh imagination.

By the third and final year, we no longer met at the park, but instead at the same spot I stood now; her lavender coated room. Each morning, I would walk down the old avenue to greet her. Often, I sat beside her bed as we talked about life. I wish some days that I could be stronger and have acceptance for her fate like she did, but I couldn’t and felt ashamed for that.

As her days became numbered I watched painfully as her radiant brunette locks that I had once admired grew dull and disappeared. Sometimes, it felt like I could feel her pain as she could mine. To heal our emotional wounds, Aella would write poetry serenading the wonders of life.

One day, Aella handed me a poem to read. I gazed at it long as it was not like any of her previous ones.

Life shouldn’t be wasted.

But it shall be spared.

Life is fragile

yet bond with great care.

When Death approaches

He craves the fear

Seeks for sadness

And your desperate, needy despair

Life with grace

Crosses Death’s Race

Mingles with His

Many sadistic mind games

Then She collapses

Under no ones control

She took the risks

Fire with fire

And now

Life is Your Only Desire

Strolling on Death Row

Sit, you weep.

Lord hath no mercy?

Each tear come down

Sun rises at dawn

Death flees

Life’s beauty seeps

Into your untainted and pure skin

Unfortunately

Death is found still,

Knocking on Her Door

And won’t flee no more.

“Will you do me a favor?” Aella whispered. Her words were soft.

“Anything,” I responded.

“When Death is there,” she pointed to her mahogany wooden door frame, “please let him in.” I didn’t respond. Aella held my hand and sighed, before she was thrown into a merciless coughing fit. Swiftly, I grabbed a glass of water and patted her frail back lightly. Not wanting to count anymore days, I finally understood Aella’s wish.

During the last night, I embraced Aella with full arms and listened closely to her instruction.

“Tonight’s the night.” I drew my eyes onto her face and saw her childish gleam with her brilliant emerald eyes sparkling like just as they were when I first met her. With that, I laid Aella comfortably there within her satin lavender sheets and stepped three paces to the door and let him in.

By now, the rain had settled to only a shower. Mother Nature’s movement had ended, but my tears still danced, longing for a finale. Reaching into my coat pocket, I grasped Aella’s poem that had absorbed my sorrow and laid it upon her bed. With that, I left my brave girl’s haven, leaving the mahogany door open. ♫

-(11/10/08)

-lilxerica