There’s a bluebird singing outside my window. Its soft little melody brings me out of my dreams and welcomes me to a new day. It’s pleasant warbles slowly draw me out and make me believe that I have something to live for.
The pleasantness doesn’t last long. Eventually six o’clock arrives and my alarm goes off, cutting sharply thorough the bluebird’s song and silencing it, for now at least.
I rise and make my way across the bamboo floor to my small bathroom. Slowly, gently, carefully I wash my face and run the razor across it. The water heater’s broken so the water and razor are cold. My face is stinging and burning by the time I’m done, even with the old spice shaving cream.
The house echoes with oppressing silence as I slowly dress for the day. As I pull my coat off its hanger I can’t help but feel depressed at the sight of the empty side of the closet. I remember how I used to get so annoyed by the way your things would creep over and mingle with my clothes. Now I find myself missing that.
Why’d you leave me Kyoya? You once thought of me as your white knight on a steed, but now that I have no worth you cast me aside like a peasant on a mule. Why?
Was it something I did?
Was it something I said?
Or was it just because you no longer found me useful?
I can’t believe that.
I refuse to believe that.
I know you’re better than that.
The way you held me when my mother died, danced with me in the rain, or made me laugh when I was down – they all told me that you loved me.
I suppose I must move on, whether you’re really like that or not, it doesn’t matter. I can’t keep living in a daydream. Even if it is a daydream I want to believe in so badly.
Where is the song of the bluebird now?
XXX
My eyes prickle as I watch him get into his car and drive away. I don’t think he realizes that his tie is tied incorrectly or that his shoes are navy blue, while his suit is black.
It’s as if he lost the ability to dress himself when I left. I never really realized he was that dependent on me for his happiness.
I should’ve known though – all the signs were there.
The way he smiled at me from across the table, held my hand as we walked together, or kissed me under the starlight – they were all signs I refused to see until it was too late.
And now I’ve left him alone, not out of choice of course.
Even now, I want to go back, I’m fighting the urge to go back, I just want to chase after him, pretend I never left.
I can’t though, I left in order to protect him and that’s the only thing that helps me fight the temptation to go back.
One day I won’t have to fight though, one day my father will be dead and I’ll be free to give in, free to dream again, free to love again – one day.
I just hope that day comes before he gives up on believing in daydreams.
Please, cheer up my daydream believer, I’ll be back as soon as I can, I just can't give in yet.
XXX
A young girl picks wildflowers as the wind gently swirls around her, bringing with it the scent of exotic spices. Her nose twitches as she catches the smell, so foreign to this setting. Curiously, she looks around for the source.
There, not far away, on a bench, sits a middle-aged man with hair the color of the sun. His eyes are closed as the wind ruffles his hair. He looks so peaceful that the girl believes him to be asleep.
Cautiously she draws closer, flowers in hand. The smell grows stronger the closer she gets. Then, when she’s close enough to reach out and touch him his eyes open and he smiles down at her.
She feels as if a second sun has come to the world. Cheerfully she smiles back at him before thrusting the flowers into his hands and running off through the merrily waving wildflowers.
She is halfway across the field when she turns one last time to look at the man with the exotic smell that she regards so fondly.
He sits on the bench, no longer alone; sitting beside him is a dark-haired man of a similar age. The two of them look so happy and content that the girl feels as if she is no longer in the real world – she must have stepped into a daydream.
Curious, she stays where she is, wanting to savor the daydream as she listens to the voices of the two men.
“I’m glad you never stopped believing,” she heard the dark-haired one say.
The golden man’s smile is crystal clear, even from where she stands she can see that. “Of course I didn’t – you know I’m a daydream believer, I could never stop believing. Though, I do wish that you had given in temptation sooner.”
“You know I couldn’t.”
“I know that, but I wish you had.”
“So do I,." There was a silence for a moment. "You know I love you, right?”
The golden man’s chuckle rings through the air and brings a smile to the young girls face. “Of course I know that. If you didn’t love me you never would’ve given in. Even with him gone.”
“True.”
The girl glances back one last time to see the two men kissing, she can’t help but smile at the sight. As she exits the daydream and runs back to her parents her golden-red hair flies around her soft face.
She can’t help but let tears turn her soft brown eyes into sparkling gems as she memorizes the daydream. She never wants to forget it, it's too beautiful, too precious to forget.
It's also too precious to share, or so she tells herself when her parents ask where she’s been.
She doesn’t want them to take her beautiful daydream away.
Nothing they say or do will tempt her to tell where she was, she knows how to keep a secret, just like the rest of her family.
Anyway, who would believe her? They’d just say it was a daydream, just like all of the other times she’d seen the two men in that field.
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