I turned my head when I heard you laugh through the hum of the train. Angelic and enticing. You turned to look at me with remnants of a smile on your lips and I saw memories dance in your eyes. I wanted to ask you if you could see the same ones - our story together. But I held my tongue and smiled back. There was no point in asking.

It was September when we first met. I walked in from the cold wind, the apples of my cheeks cherry red. I took in the place and when my eyes found you, I could not look away. The host introduced us, after I begged him to. You danced in the corner to a tune I couldn’t hear. The conversation was flowing, and you surprised me with your questions. Such deep ones asked with such lightness. I didn’t have a choice in the matter, and I gave you my everything, from that moment onwards. As the night was closing in and the rouge on my cheeks was from wine, you asked me if you could walk me home.

Our first date had been all my idea. A short walk to a park near my house, with a picnic basket full. You laughed when you saw me and told me I was too much. I wanted to tell you that there was no such a thing but chuckled instead. I just really wanted to impress you. And oh boy, impress I did. Next moment my mouth was full of grass with your scream ringing in my ears. The insides of the picnic basket were rolling down the hill and the expensive sparkling wine was making the maggots happy. Mortified as I already was, when trying to get up I realized I must have broken my ankle. I remember I couldn’t look you in the eyes, my shame would have been so evident. Silently, you picked up the pieces of the broken bottle and chased down the once carefully wrapped sandwiches. I sat on the grass willing my ankle to carry my weight. No such luck. Suddenly you were standing in front of me and reluctantly I looked up. You picked me up and helped me down the hill and hailed us a taxi. The emergency room was loud and the pain increasing. You tried to keep me busy by talking so much, about nothing and everything. Getting back to my apartment on the third floor with crutches was no easy deed. When we got in, my heart ached as much as my arms did. I was so sure you’d sit me down and keep on walking, out of the door and out my life. But again, you surprised me, by asking for my keys and returning an hour later with painkillers and fast food.

It was so unbearable, the way you ignored all the signals he sent you. How could you be so blind and so graceless. He was clearly eyeing you up from the moment we walked in. Yet there you were that same smile on your lips that I thought was reserved for me. Sitting in the corner of the bar, I could see your mouth moving while only your loud, tacky laugh echoed in my ears. I remember the moment he turned to me bewilderment evident in his handsome face. I understood why you were there with him. He matched you. He dressed smart, and the lines on his face told of a life full of happiness. You would be happy with him. While I was fighting back the tears you slid to the booth next to me and pressed a tender kiss on my damp cheek.

I was sitting on the fancy couch of the grand house you grew up in. I had never felt more out of place than in here. As panic was settling in the back of my throat, I wondered yet again why you wanted to be with me. We clearly were from two worlds that couldn’t be more apart. What a cliché we were – me with holes in my pockets and you wealthier than I could even understand. Your words echoed in my head: “I’m not looking for someone to support me financially silly, I just want to be with you.” You had read my mind that day, as if you were best friends with my inner demons - those same rascals that now were whispering to me. Your mother waltzed down the staircase like a queen and it was game on. If there was one thing I was good at, it was being charming. I had managed to win you over after all, hadn’t I? So, I swallowed the wild fear and stood up, my shoes squeaking on the marble floor. The dinner ended up being lovely - no shotguns and no threats. You beamed next to me, and my hand still hasn’t quite recovered from how hard you squeezed it that day. I guess I wasn’t the only one nervous.

“Is this too easy?” you asked me quietly just as I was falling asleep. I held you closer and waited for you to say something more. After a few moments of listening to our breathing mixing together you continued. That day you had met many of my friends who adored you, naturally. I didn’t know what to say. I liked easy. I liked how I didn’t have to worry about what you thought of me when I danced around the house in my rattiest sweatpants or screamed at the tv when my team lost. I liked that you didn’t care I could smell the morning in your breath and that I could hear you cry in the dead of the night. You turned around in my arms when I didn’t answer you quick enough. I felt like you could see my soul, and only one thought came to my mind. It was well past midnight on an ordinary Wednesday, and I liked how easy it was. The sharp pain as you pinched my side startled me out of my thoughts, and I breathed in my answer. Your eyes now shining silver as the sliver of moonlight escaped the curtains, I asked you again, this time out loud: Will you marry me.

A sharp turn of the train stole the paleness of the moon from your eyes. I blinked slowly when you turned to look at the man next to you. I could feel his cold stare on me, as your reflection on the window danced with the murky scenery. The screech of the breaks and the announcement of the next stop shattered the remnants of the spell. Back was the bleak world of black and white, where color was impossible to find. I could hear you trying to calm down the man who I envied. He was living the very same illusion the moon had enchanted for us. Cold air burned my face when I stepped on the platform. I turned back and through the window I sought your eyes one last time, knowing that I’d never see you again. In the span of a few minutes, I had experienced colors in all their brightness, only to be thrown back into the darkness, the pale moon as my only lover.

Cover photo by Robi Vuokko