Well, after years of mud throwing, and attempts to humiliate each other in childish ways possible, nobody knew, I had a crush on her. Most of my friends hated her, but her antics and villainous fashion never failed to incite me. Don't ask me how it became us after-wards, but it happened. They called it mutual understanding. I could say, our relationship became sensual in the course of time. One day, she told me to come to their house. She would be alone. At the sound of it, I felt blood rushing to my face, my ears and my nose. I could not control my self. "This is it!" I shouted. But nobody hear that shout actually, I did it in silence. Ok, ok, I wanted to shout then, but I couldn't. "This is it!"
I took a bath, applied my best aftershave and went right away to claim my spoil. I did not expect any problem, but when I knocked on the door it was not her who opened it: a five year old child. She was not alone! I thought. I started to get frustrated. She explained that it was unexpected. Her mother had to leave her. She promised it wont be a problem. She made me wait at the sala. It was about 10:30 in the morning, but I started to perspire. I hated sweat at this time. I reached for my left pocket to pull out my handkerchief. Something came out with it and fell on the floor. It was a rosary. I immediately picked it up and put it back in my pocket as if it did not happen. I hated the priest who required us to always have a rosary in our pocket all the time. Now, it made me think. I wanted to forget all about it, but it kept drilling in my head. I told myself, "I am just human."
I heard occasional noises from the room, and the air started to smell sweet. I closed my eyes and wiped some sweat coming down my forehead. Finally, she came out. "Don't worry about the kid, she wouldn't know," she assured me. I kissed and hugged her. "I love you." I said. She did not answer back. Then I said something very stupid, "let's stop here." She looked at me without expression; just a sad blank look.
The next day, I received a letter. Like any other letters I received, it started with "Dear John,..." The letter was long. I could not remember what it all said. What I clearly remember was the thought of the whole letter: she did not believe I loved her...
To some what I did was very stupid. To her it was unloving. For me, it's was true love. True relationship should make a human being a better person. I did not believe then that it would make her a better person after that. Love is not a feeling, but a commitment to the growth of other person. I felt so much like doing 'it', but I chose to commit to her growth as a person. Love is knowing when to say no when you need to say no.
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