In the middle of the day, while taking a shower, while eating, walking to the car, drinking water, my mind is filled with nothing but you — your name, your words, your smile, your arms, your lips, your deep-set eyes. One more minute and I could swear I could make water move just by staring at it. I mean, how the hell not? I’ve been staring at it for 17 minutes now while managing to keep track of how long I’ve been at it.
I look out the full-length windows. From where I was — on the floor with my back leaning against the bed — I could see other windows all looking the same. Sometimes I wonder why I ever agreed to buy this apartment. The floor to ceiling windows make it so bright during the day. I was never a fan of brightness and yet you call me sunshine anyway. You always got your way. I feel like everyone can see right through the whole interior even if I know the windows are treated with some mirror or black film or something like that. I'm sure it was mentioned when we came to look at the apartment but I wasn't paying much attention.
Oddly enough, I saw your face. You’re frowning. Why the face? Are you sad? Angry? Do you not like what I’m doing? I thought you loved it when I write about you. I turned my attention back at the bottle of water. I notice my hands as I was writing. The skin around my nails are peeling off. They say it’s a sign of low calcium levels in your body. I’m not surprised. I haven’t had my nails done for months and my fridge has been empty for 2 weeks now, which means no milk. No milk, no food, no cheese, no everything. The Chinese restaurant two blocks away is earning more from my home delivery orders.
I miss you.
I’m sorry I couldn’t say it to you.
I want to hug you and stay wrapped in your arms until I fall asleep.
The doorbell rang. Who could that be? I didn’t order food for delivery. Mom has a key so she wouldn’t ring the bell. I don’t really have that much friends. And with the few ones I have I don’t think I have anyone close enough to pay me a random visit.
“Hey sunshine!”
You kissed me before walking inside the apartment. The apartment you helped look for ; the apartment you designed ; the apartment you buy groceries for ; your second home.
“What are you doing here?”
“I bought groceries, of course. And your favorite!”
I didn’t notice the bags he was carrying. Oh, and my favorite — white roses. He poured me a glass of milk. I kept staring at his face. I studied him carefully, watching his every move and every step. He’s so beautiful. His face was flawless.
“Am I dreaming?”
“Sunshine, we need to clean your apartment.”
”No!”
He stopped in his tracks. He looked at me puzzled.
“This was exactly how you left it that morning.”
There was silence — a long, satisfying silence between the two of us. I could hear the hustle from outside, cars honking, abrupt breaks, but not his heart beating or even his breaths.
“Well, sunshine, I’d like to leave it in another way.”
He started picking up the boxes from that Chinese restaurant and I followed after him. He went to the kitchen and arranged the groceries he bought onto the cupboards and the fridge. Once the kitchen and living room were clear from any evidence of my misery for the past 2 weeks, he asked me to help him change my sheets. I was hesitant. I could still smell him from my pillowcases. My blankets still resemble his whole body that engulfs me each night I come home tired and worn. He took out the white, silk, pillowcases he gave me on my birthday.
My bed looked fresh — like the white roses he brought. He opened the curtains and I squinted like a newborn seeing light for the first time. He took a nice, deep breath.
“Ahhh.. sunlight.”
He stood by the windows and I found myself sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed, watching as the sunlight hit his face. I didn’t get to stare at his silhouette longer. He sat beside me. And there we were, on my apartment floor sitting next to each other looking out at the rest of the world.
“It’s a bright day isn’t it?”
I didn’t say anything. I don’t think I’ve spoken much since he got here. I just looked at him.
“You know what would make it brighter?”
I do.
I knew too well.
It was exactly how we first met.
One sunny day over a year ago, I was waiting for the bus with my sunglasses on when this tall, beautiful creature stood beside me, offering a little shade.
“It’s a bright day isn’t it?”
I wanted to look at him so bad but even with my sunglasses and the little shade from his figure, it was way too bright to look up. So I decided to pretend not to hear him. But he was persistent.
“You know what would make it even brighter?”
I didn’t last very long. I sacrificed my vision and looked up at him.
“You’re smile.”
And I smiled.
I smiled then and I’m still smiling now.
Finally, I had something to say.
“I miss you.”
“Oh you’ll miss me even more, sunshine.”
I flutter my eyes open and see the all too familiar windows from the building across. I wish I had the strength and energy to push myself off the floor and stand to look at the busy street below. I hear the door unlock. I didn’t need to go and see who it was. Only two people had the key to my apartment — my mother and him.
”Honey, you should be getting ready. The funeral's at 1.”
I’ve been dreading this day. I’ve been doing everything that I can to cope for the past two weeks and I’m not showing any kind of progress. I’m still reading your texts. I keep seeing you in the kitchen cooking my favorite lemon chicken pasta. I’m still wearing the sweater you wore to bed the night before that Monday morning. I still subscribe to the sports channel. I still hear you cheering and cussing in front of the TV, watching basketball.
I’m not ready.
I wasn’t ready.
I will never be.
I still hope you’d ring the bell and say ‘Take more than a minute and say good bye to tea’ because you claim to buy and make me the best tea in the world. I still shout ‘Are you here?’ when I open the door because you never tell me when you’re coming over. I still have alarms for prayer because you always told me how important it is to spend at least a few minutes to pray no matter how busy the day gets.
I’m not ready to miss you more.
I could hear my mom coming closer. She walked into my room and opened my closet.
“I’m surprised you found the time to clean up. Where’d you find your favorite pillowcase?”
‘Well sunshine, I’d like to leave it in another way.’
I could hear your voice echo in my head.
“Also, are you bringing those roses to the funeral?”
She laid a white, lace dress for me on the bed.
“What roses?”
“The white ones on the counter. And please drink that glass of milk before we leave.”