Love from an Old Man's Eyes

“I told you,” the young man reassured his friend, who seemed to be having a more difficult time with the flight than he.  

I had seen them get on the flight. They were a couple who seemed to be in their early 20s.  The boy was much taller than his traveling companion; he resembled the stereotypical “surfer dude.”: green eyes, blonde hair, and appeared to be well-acquainted with the sun.  The girl was the complete opposite of her friend.  She had brown hair, brown eyes, and did not share the same acquaintanceship with the sun that her friend had. The plain faded jeans, paired with fading blue converse, and a grey long-sleeve shirt were a deep contrast to the glasses she had picked; they were sharp angular square with a crazy green and white maze pattern on them.  It was like she was trying to define her personality with one article of clothing.  

“ We should have just stuck in the states where I could have planned a fun road trip. But no.  It would never be the same as getting to experience the wonders of Ireland in person,” commented the girl with a somewhat mocking tone towards her friend.
“Hey, I only said that a real artist would want to see firsthand what she is painting so SHE would not have to resort to second- rate interpretations of other peoples’ adventures,” answered the guy, who apparently was used to his friend’s sarcasm.  
“Second-rate! They are not second-rate. Every painting I have done is real; I knew exactly what colors to use when I put brush to canvas,” struck back the girl visibly hurt by the guy’s accusation.

As I watched the interaction between these two, I realized there was nothing prideful or arrogant about the girl’s tone.  She truly believed that the visions in her head which she then had transferred to canvas were real.  For someone to describe them as second-rate interpretations insulted her creativity, and her mind, the most important thing she had.  I understood what she meant.  I was an artist and I once thought the images I saw in my head were as true and wonderful as what I could actually go see in the world.  I was now 72.  It had been 50 years since I had made my first trip to Ireland.  I was just as nervous then about traveling the world as this young lady seemed to be now.  But it was all worth it;  after five years of doing nothing but traveling to every possible destination I could think of, I had decided to settle down permanently in Ireland.  It was my home, and where I met my wife of 45 years.  

“That’s not what I meant.  Your paintings are wonderful.  I just want to show you how beautiful the world can be.  I want you to see for yourself the creations that you have already put down on canvas.  The things you paint are not just in your head,” he said as her reached out to touch her head, “they are real and I want you to see them.”  

The girl turned away from the boy still not understanding what he was trying to say to her.  I was still surprised by the boy’s comment.  This boy truly cared for his friend and wanted nothing but the best for her.  It was tough these days to find someone so young so wrapped up in what the other person wanted with no regard for their own self.  Most people did not feel the kind of love this boy so obviously possessed until later on in their life.  I don’t think the girl knew how the boy felt for her.  I don’t think she would believe him if he told her.  It looked like the boy had been fighting this battle for years.  I understood how he felt.  You can spend your whole life trying to make a woman feel special and deserving but at the end of the day she still does not believe she is worthy of the love you want to show her.  It was a great tragedy among women today.  The most beautiful creatures on the earth who are capable of doing whatever they set their minds to, never believe anyone who tells them that.  I was still trying to make my wife believe this.  

“C’mon Emma.  I promise you won’t regret coming here.  The flying part has not even been that bad.  Please, just relax.  I didn’t mean to hurt you,” soothed the boy.

A couple more hours into the flight and the girl had fallen asleep.  Her head rolled over until it was resting casually on her friend’s shoulder, reflecting what the subconscious is capable of.  The friend reached up to comb his finger through her hair.  An act he would dare not do if she was awake.  But the sleeping girl could not fight, question, or argue with the gesture.  I was witnessing one of the most gentle acts of love, and the girl was completely unaware that this love existed.  The boy paused for a moment to look at his friend.  He took in her beauty with her flaws. Some of my favorite paintings have a flaw.  A missed brushstroke, a wrong color, a paint drip: all of these “flaws” give emphasis to the beauty that surrounds them.  Without flaws, beauty does not make sense.  The boy understood this.  The boy suddenly looked up, unashamed at having an audience to this tender moment.  

“Does she know how much you care?” I questioned the boy.

The boy looked a little surprised by my question, but soon realized it did not matter to answer an old man.

“I think she knows...I hope she does.  It has been difficult for her.  We have known each other for awhile.  We met when we were kids and pretty much hung out all the time by high school.  She has just kind of always been there for me.”

The boy’s last sentence came out with a slightly pained expression. There was something I was missing between these two.  The boy might be the one to express his love now but I don’t think he was the first.  

“She loved you, didn’t she?” I inquired of the boy.  
“She was just there for me no matter what.  Anytime I went through a break-up, a failure, or any other rough spots, she was there to help.  Then I just started pushing her away...I am not sure why...  I didn’t feel like I deserved a friend like her.  I know that hurt her and I probably will never be able to make up for that.”

I looked at the girl; it all made sense now.  The girl had probably spent her whole life giving pieces of her heart away knowing she would not receive anything in return.  And now, even though someone truly cared for her, she did not trust it.  I imagined her as a teenager, so full of life, eager to help others, and now only her glasses reflected the joy in life she once possessed.  

“Have you ever just told her,” I asked the boy, who continued to stroke her long, brunette ringlets.
“I have come close a couple times.  After a couple years of being away, I ran into her at a bookstore and realized she was still wearing it.”  

The boy pointed to the necklace that I had not noticed before.  It was a simple, blackish-silver, tear drop stone, about the size of a nickel, hung on by a simple black string.  It was simple yet so beautiful.  

“It wasn’t the one she wanted.  I must have wasted dozens of quarters on that machine trying to get the one she wanted.  But she decided to keep wearing this one.  It was the first one I gave her.  I remember passing it to her and she couldn’t get the lid off the little plastic ball.  I helped her open it and put it on her.  She has been wearing it ever since.  That was 8 years ago. Looking back, it was probably the best quarter I ever spent.”  

The boy smiled at the memory.

“I am gonna give you a piece of advice and I hope you will take it.  Don’t hold back your words.  Showing you love is an amazing thing but sometimes a woman just needs to hear it.  Sometimes they just don’t want to see what’s right in front of them.  She ain’t wearing that necklace simply because it ‘s pretty.  She is still wearing it because she has never given up on you.  Now when she wakes up, you need to just tell her how you feel.  Don’t try to wait for a perfect moment, just let it out.  She might be initially surprised and won’t know what to do but I bet you ten bucks son, she will get over that pretty quick. If not, just resort to showing your love and plant one on her.  That’s one I did to my wife when she didn’t believe what I was telling her - and now we have been married 45 years.”  

The boy took in every word I had to say and looked a little surprised by my last piece of advice.  Then a smile slowly crept over his face and he nodded his head.  About that time the girl woke up and was immediately embarrassed that she had been laying on her friends shoulder.  She drew off to the side and looked out the window.  We were finally home, flying over the precious green island.

“It is so beautiful,” the girl exclaimed taking in the picture below. “You were right; I think I am going to love it here.”

I looked at the boy and nodded to say this was his chance.  

“Emma, I am sorry for what I said earlier.  I just want the best for you because I...,”  the boy glanced my way again and I gave him an encouraging smile.  “Emma, I love you.”

The girl immediately turned her head with a look of disbelief on her face.

“What did you just say?”
“I said I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life proving it.”

The boy glanced back at me and I pointed to my lips to remind him that the second piece of advice might be necessary.  He turned around and before the girl had a chance to question it anymore, planted one on her.  When he pulled away, I was pretty sure the girl had gotten the message, because she smiled like a woman who had just received the best gift ever.  I looked away not wanting to intrude on this new-found moment.  It would be a long journey for these two.  Love is not a one-time moment.  It is something that you work at every day.  This work of art had just begun.  Years from now, and many flaws later, others will look on at the masterpiece this boy and girl have created and stand amazed.

Reviews

[Garry E. Lewis]

Beautiful, just simply beautiful! What a romantic love story nicely done Random Hope09 How many times were we at that same place in our lives and we failed to act on our true feelings and missed being with the love of our lives, simply because we let fear get in our way. I'm glad the boy took this old mans advice. And they all lived happily ever after Yes!!