Aisle

Big Fishes' Carnival at The Lake – Aisle

“Hoi, Aisle!”

I smiled in relief upon my name, for I had expected him not to come but wanted him to do so still – and there he was. Excitement crept up my spine and drove me to run to him, but with all the crowd gushing to the opposite direction, I was more of keeping myself still in the current. Realizing my agony, he who was expecting to wait for me reluctantly walked to me instead.

As always, he looked horrible: disheveled brown-black hair with, bangs that was scraping his mouth covering half of his face, pale purple dry mouth with a crack almost splitting the lip vertically, white shirt that looked old enough that it wasn’t even white anymore, the oh-so-mediocre long pants with fading navy blue color; the list goes on. This would feel more like a date if he dressed up a little.

“The only different thing was the blue pants,” I pouted, trying to be cute.

 “Don’t want to waste good stuff.”

“Geez, at least waste some for me, will you?”

Sighing, he then urged me to move on, while muttering something like “we’re not a couple or anything.” Blunt as always, but I am quite used to it. I'm not the dramatic type that shed tears whenever he forget to think of me, or those kind of things. Although there were only the two of us roaming around the Implora Garden, we were not there as two person in love. The flowers were cheap, that’s all.

To be honest, neither of us was into gardening. In fact, if he didn’t owe me one during the time he wanted to keep his circumstances a secret from his sister, he wouldn’t be stuck with me trying to figure out which red flower is more red, which pruning tools are more cost-efficient, and which pot should be suitable for my room. The only thing that makes me keep these flowers in my room is the white of the walls and ceilings of my room. I swear the only thing that’s more blindingly white than my room is the sun. He did say that it was a bit weird for me not to like (or at least be able to bear) the color white since I’ve been in that hospital for so long.

“Just because you always eat bread doesn’t mean you like it, does it?” I raised a point during that argument.

“What, bread is cheap!”

That’s all about it. This guy doesn’t put much effort in arguing, since he knew that he was different from others in some ways. That’s why he never tried to persuade someone or convince someone into something, deciding that it was easier for him to classify himself as a different being entirely. He never pay any attention to whatever anyone else was telling him about his mistakes, whether it’s his clothing or his manner of speech, for he always dismissed is as a difference between him and normal people.

“Aisle, what do you think of this?”

Whoa, this guy actually recommended me something! As I was excited by the thought of him actually picking an interest in flowers again, I tried to see the flower he was suggesting. A small, yellow flower with two leaves of different shade accompanying it. That was the plainest of of plain a flower can get that I wonder why in the first place does someone with initially low interest in flowers actually tried to tell me to buy it. Then I looked at the price tag.

“You cheapo!”

His smile turned upside down upon realizing that it wasn’t that easy to search for a flower that I’m satisfied with – and that we would be hanging around this crowded garden for quite a long time. Still, this was the only chance for me to get him to do something for me, so I’m not going easy on him. As always, he did his search half-heartedly, and always returned to me with barely-above-average flowers. Today I will be extremely strict with him.

“Rejected.”

“Oh, come on, we’ve been here for almost four hours!”

Although he might not notice this, he actually offered some pretty decent flower, but I loved bullying him so much that I rejected every flower that he suggested, only to come back to the more decent flowers much later and buy it personally. Once, stopped his search, saying that it’s impossible to please me and all, but it only got me to talk to him about what he owes me and guilt-trip him until he was searching again. Using a man like that is nice once in a while.

At last, shortly after the night fell he found me a beautiful tulip that still looked fresh and healthy. When I finally accepted his suggestion, he smiled like a little kid that finally got his parents’ permission to buy a new toy. Then he was like, “I won’t be paying for this, you know,” while we walked to the cashier, and I was well aware that this tulip cost quite a bit compared to other flowers. A cheap man to the end, I see.

“It’s for you,” I declared as I hand the flower back to him. Still not knowing what was going on, I gave up on expecting him to realize the situation and explained to him, “you know, we have been together for quite a while. And I think it would be nice if we can be something, you know, more, than we had been. So yeah..”

I admit that I wasn’t really direct nor clear about my roundabout way of explaining my true intentions, but seriously, “so you want me to put this in my room?” isn’t even a respond complying to anything that I’ve been saying. Even though I had rehearsed this a few times, as I thought it gets really embarrassing in the actual run. And against such a dense man, I was starting to worry that this will turn out to be a failure.

“If you want me to put a flower in my room, then just say so. I’ll buy it myself.”

“You can’t! You’ll be buying the super cheap flower like the yellow one that you first suggested.”

“Eh... It’s rare for you to treat me something...” he muttered to himself.

If this keeps up, I wouldn’t be able to say what I wanted to say, I thought to myself. I began to panic, my eyes jumping from one random thing on the poorly-lit street to another, trying to remember what I had prepared in such situation. I tried to continue, “that’s why, you know, I at least want us to do something together before, you see, our time is up.” I stopped and this draws his attention. Although only one eye was visible, the other being covered by his bangs, I was unable to keep eye contact and ended up looking downwards. And with my hands holding each other, one leg behind the other, and my fringe covering my face, I sincerely hope that he understood the gravity of the situation.

“Will you be... my... boyfriend?”

For someone who was confessed to, he had quite the emotionless expression, staring at the tulip that he had been holding dear for quite a while. I tried to look my best, choosing the best clothes available in town, using perfume that I actually hate, and even so this guy didn’t even realize that we were actually out for something. He was so dense almost to the point of not caring about other people. And when I thought he couldn’t be denser, he asked, “why?”

“You.. don’t want to?” I braced myself.

“Not quite,” he said. He then continued on with some ramblings about how our circumstances wouldn’t by any chance give us a normal relationship, followed by how a boy and a girl that liked each other should go out, how being a relationship for the sake of having one is not quite correct. He was so roundabout and elaborate that I was lost, not even knowing where his speech is going to go.

“So do you like me, or not?” I tried to cut it short.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Just so you know, it wasn’t love at first sight. He didn’t appear to be the shining white knight that would save me like a princess the first time I saw him. In fact, I think the word ‘love’ is too heavy for this feelings. I just thought that it could be nice to be more than just friends, to have something that most teens today would like to have, before it all ends. He was the only one that knows and understands my situation, so I figured out he was the best bet. Although I said that it wasn’t that ‘love’, these feelings are as real as they could be, for people like us.

“You.. do understand our situation, don’t you? One of us will go before the other.”

“That’s why! Since we’re going to go anyway, I don’t want to die a virgin.”

“Wait, you are planning to lose your virginity!?”

“Eh.. Ah, no! It’s not like..”

He then extended his arms towards me while breathing heavily, and if that wasn’t scary enough, he was grinning like a madman. I could feel the sudden warmth of blood rushing through my cheek despite the chilly night, for however you saw it, he was trying to do that. My heart was accelerating, my legs shaking and I felt my strength leaving my body. When he finally grabbed my shoulders, I burst into tears and ran away. I realized later that he was joking.

“Aisle..” he knocked on the door.

“I’m not trying to do that, alright!”

He was smiling. I was absolutely sure that he was smiling, although I planted my back on the door to my room to prevent him from entering and, you know, do stuff. That’s the kind of relationship that we’ve developed during the last year: one where you instantly knew how the other feels about the situation. I’m not trying to brag, but we’ve been through so much – from running out of money to scraping the face of death - that I knew he understands my feelings as well. He's stuck with me, after all.

“Alright. I’m fine with it.”

At that I couldn’t help but smile. The thought of having a boyfriend is as exciting as I expected it to be. Suddenly I didn’t dislike the white hospital anymore. Suddenly I didn’t dislike the white pajamas anymore. Suddenly I was optimistic about our lives, somehow sure that people with cancer like us can have a normal teenage lives. “I would’ve worn something better if I know it’ll be like this,” he muttered, almost inaudible. I turned the lights off and went to bed, for a while wondering what tomorrow will be like. For us who aren’t always sure that tomorrow will come, this is pretty rare.