Summer day...

Dear lover, it was my breath you took away when we glanced at each other in the summer day, when the glimpse of the sun shone upon your beautiful pale skin, and light filled your hazelnut-coloured eyes. It was like the breeze slowly turned our faces in the same direction, and there, our stare was locked. When you approached me, there was not much I could do but to look down slightly, but at the same time, the sunny day permitted me to see that your shadow was slowly approaching my presence. You came and nodded your head, gesturing to the space beside me on the bench, without saying a word but smiling. My girly innocence, my timid smile, made me nod my head in a way that communicated yes, and though neither of us said a word, somehow we understood each other.

As you sat down, your hand was positioned gradually next to my hand on the wooden bench where we sat. My heart pounded as I wondered if you were going to touch my hand, but you didn’t. However, your handsome smile touched me inwardly until my unbearable feelings couldn’t contain themselves. The thoughts in my head were clumsy: Is this what they call love at first sight? But why doesn’t he speak? Why doesn’t he introduce himself? Maybe he is not attracted to me and his friends sent him to do a prank, or maybe he’s a foreigner and he doesn’t speak English? That can’t be right…he wouldn’t be able to study here at Cambridge, would he? I don’t know. Should I say hi first? No, guys are the ones to make the first move, so why should I start? Agh…We are such idiots, neither of us has the courage to say something. So, we sat quietly, looking into space—at least, that’s what it felt like, till I noticed you looking down on the other side, and your hand reaching to the ground.

What is he doing? I wondered, until your hand was slowly coming up with a beautiful flower, which you gave to me, accompanied by a smile, and I shyly accepted and said, “Thank you.”

You got up and you went away, and as you walked ahead, you gave me a last captivated smile, then you disappeared in the crowd of students who were at the park. How can this be love at first sight, or destiny, if all we did was exchange smiles and nothing else? I thought. Sadness overcame me, and I got up and went to my lectures. All I was thinking about was your striking and mysterious eyes, and your smile that was filled with words that somehow didn’t come out.

Days passed with no sign of you. I looked around the university, and then I went back to where we first saw each other, but still no sign of you. I hoped you were well. I even hoped you hadn’t moved away, but you couldn’t have. We hadn’t yet had a break for the summer holiday; we still had a few weeks left. Why did I have such a neediness to see you if we never even spoke? I guess I fell in love at that instant.

As I was walking down the hall, on my way to my lecture, I stopped at my locker first to get my notebooks, and as I was closing the door, you passed right by me. My heart pounded nervously. We couldn’t stop staring at each other, and although there were students passing by, it felt like it was just me and you. You passed right by me and smiled again, and in the next instant, you were gone. Why you kept disappearing, I do not know, but somehow, I felt that there was a connection between us.

As I finished my lecture and came back to put away my books, I opened my locker, and there was a letter inside. Who could this be from? I wondered, but in my heart, I hoped it was from you with some sort of an explanation. This is what the letter said: “When I saw your beautiful curly hair that the wind brushed through, and your big eyes that seemed to be lost in thoughts, and your rosy lips that slowly sighed each time you looked around, it was like something had relocated my eyes in the reflection of your radiant olive skin, and luckily, you stared right back at me. Joy overflowed within me. There is something about you that I really like, I seek to know more, and want to know more about, and your beauty attracted me to come to you. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t, when I was sitting by your side. How I wish I could…I am sorry for being timid. Peter.”

My heart was pounding—I could even hear my heart beating within my ears. I was glad it was you. I wanted to tell you that I felt the same way, but I didn’t know how, in that short time.

We were on our summer break from university, and I hoped we could meet sometime and get a coffee or something together to get to know each other. So, as I was sitting down in the park outside the halls where my student accommodation was, I suddenly saw you coming toward me, and my smile was shaking. I couldn’t help but look down shyly, and you approached me and sat right next to me. As you sat right beside me, you touched my arm and smiled, and I smiled back and said, “Hi,” and when you were about to say hi back, you looked down, and then you said hi to me but with sign language. I was speechless! I asked, “Have you got mutism?” and you moved your head to say yes. Sadness came over me. He cannot speak…how are we possibly going to communicate?

As you looked at my face and saw how disheartened I was, you walked away. With no hope that you and I could make it work, you just walked away. “Wait,” I said, “come back…we can make it work.” You turned back with faith, and you came back to me and held my hand. Somehow, I felt destiny had brought us together, so I suggested, “This is how we are going to communicate, by pen and paper in this small black notebook, and I am willing to learn sign language, because I want to make this work, and I want to get to know more about you.” You expressed tenderness, so the first thing I told you was my name, Anastasia. I knew yours was Peter, so I said, “Peter is your name, right?” and you nodded your head as a yes, so I beamed.

The next thing you did was tell me about yourself, all in this small black notebook where we shared our conversations. With time, we got to know each other. Although a barrier was there, we managed to work things out.

I loved the intimacy we had together, and I loved just how you were. We didn’t need words; our touch was enough, and our togetherness and trust held us together. You told that you were born without speech and that you have never spoken, there was a surgery that you could do one day, however, it was expensive. That broke my heart to pieces, but you told me not to be upset. As a joke, you told me, at least I would never hear you yelling and being angry at me.

We became best friends and lovers. Once university was finished, I moved out of my parents’ home and Peter moved out of his mother’s so that we could live together. I became a teacher, and he became a painter, but he didn’t earn as much, so then we began having financial issues and our bills were late. Peter often expressed he wanted to get an operation for his speech; it was treatable, but it was very expensive.

One day, I was cleaning up the garage, and there were a lot of things that had been left untouched from the previous owner that had passed away. We had barely touched the garage because I was so busy with work and Peter with his paintings. As I was cleaning, I came across an old wooden box, so I opened it, and inside there was a rusty old key, but I did not know what it belonged to. I kept going through things and tidying up, until I hit another strange box, and as I was moving the box, I came across something that looked like a safe. So, I tried the key out of curiosity—it opened! To my amazement, there was a lot of money inside, so I called Peter. I was so shocked. We counted and it was twenty thousand dollars. It was a miracle. We danced like silly kids and jumped up and down. We couldn’t believe it.

We decided not to tell anyone, neither to put it in the bank. We paid off our bills with some of the money, and the rest we put toward the surgery for Peter. We believed we came across that money for a reason. After Peter had his surgery and began therapy, our communication was now different. Peter could finally speak for the first time in his life, with difficulties, but I was there to be his teacher. The small black notebook remained forever in our lives, as a symbol of the beginning of our love story.