In life, there are people who have always been a part of your life -- people who have seen you as a child and then watched you grow up to be a woman, people who held you high in your victory and helped you up in your defeat, people who could tell exactly who you are and what you want, where you love to stay and who you are always with. They are people whose existence became so deeply entwined with yours and therefore would always hold a special place in your heart.
And then, there are people who suddenly appeared in your life, turned your world upside down, and left you breathless and in awe of what could have been but would never be. They are the people whose fleeting contact with you touched you deeply, and profoundly changed the way you look at things.
Whenever I assess what has happened and what is happening in my life, I always realize that he was one of them -- those people who were gone as quickly as they had come, and yet whose influence can never be denied. And in a small, hidden corner of my heart, I know that I will always wait for him, long for him.
*****
I lived deep inside a thick forest, protected from the corruption of the world by the quiet teachings of my grandmother. From time to time, there would be some visitors to our humble dwelling made of bamboo and wood, and their presence would always delight me, for it was a pleasant distraction from the monotony of my life. Not that I was discontented with how I spent my days back then. It was just that, when you grew up far from civilization and with only one old woman to talk to every now and then, you would always be thrilled by the prospect of meeting new people and perhaps forming a tentative friendship with them.
Grandmother taught me everything I knew. She taught me how to keep our little hut clean, how to wash our clothes, how to cook our meals. She taught me where to fetch clean water, where to find edible fruits, where to pluck the various herbs that she used as medicine. She even taught me how to care for our chickens and how to make simple salves and potions. Whatever she thought I should learn, she made sure I knew. In time, she taught me how to read and write, and although I did not particularly enjoy reading and writing, I painstakingly studied them in order to please her.
Once every two weeks, Grandmother would ask me to get out of the forest and go to the house of our nearest neighbor -- whose house I could only reach after almost two hours of walking however fast I tried to walk. I would always bring a basket of fruits and vegetables -- sometimes even a few eggs -- during those visits to Mary. Mary and her family were perhaps my closest friends in the world after my grandmother. Whenever I would visit their house, Mary would ask me to have lunch with her family, and I would always think that they were having a feast, for I could only eat beef and fish whenever I was in their house. Sometimes, I thought that Mary only prepared those meals when I was around, for her boys reached for the meat as eagerly as I did. I would play with those boys for a while afterward, as Mary packed a basket of food and a bottle of fresh milk for Grandmother. Then she would ask her oldest boy, Lucas, to walk me back to our house. Lucas was two years older than me, and would always entertain me with stories about his school during those long walks, or stories about the latest trouble that his brothers Jim and Danny found themselves in.
All in all, I was contented with how my life went on back then. I had my grandmother, my friends in Mary's family, and sometimes some very nice visitors from the town. I thought nothing was missing in my life, that my life could not be better. But then I was wrong.
*****
I met him that afternoon after Lucas walked me home. Mary baked a cake that day to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. In all my life, I had never seen a cake, and I let out a gasp of wonder when I beheld that beautifully-decorated dessert. I almost did not want to ruin it by taking a slice, but I could see that everyone was waiting for the chance to taste it, so I held my breath and cut a portion for myself. It tasted simply amazing.
By that time, Grandmother was almost never away from our hut. Age caught up with her and her joints were always aching, so we agreed that it was time for me to take over and take care of her.
That afternoon, as she began eating a slice of the cake Mary asked me to bring home, I told Grandmother that I would fetch some water from the river, knowing that there was barely enough water for us to drink that night. The sun was nowhere near the horizon yet, and Grandmother readily agreed.
Carrying a bucket, I made my way to the river, humming a happy tune all the while. The day seemed to reflect my mood, and I could not ask for more from life. When I reached my destination and bent over to splash some water on my face, its coolness tempted me to remove my slippers and dip my feet in the water, the bucket lying half-forgotten on a rock nearby.
Suddenly, no more than ten feet from where I was, a man appeared from underwater. Shocked, I could only let out a yelp, thoughts of water demons grabbing ankles of unsuspecting maids running through my mind. Yet, he looked just as startled as I did, and when my eyes met his, I caught my breath.
He was beautiful. Wet, dark hair fell to his broad shoulders, drawing my eyes downward to a smooth, hard chest, and down still to well-muscled stomach. But it was his face that drew me the most. His eyes were almost the colour of honey, and his lips were tantalizingly full -- lips that curved upwards into a smile when the initial shock ebbed away.
"Good day to you," he said softly.
His voice, silky and seductive, somehow sent me to panic. I hurried out of the water, but before I could reach the bank, a hand already closed around my wrist. Now terrified, I shrieked.
"Calm down!" he said, his other hand closing over my mouth. "I'm not going to hurt you."
I stiffened, not trusting him. What kind of man would grab a woman this way if he had no intention of hurting her? Never had a man acted like that towards me. It was scary.
Yet he was holding me gently against him, and the shivers that racked my body were not caused by fear. Slowly, he let me go before stepping away. I turned to face him reluctantly. The way he was looking up and down my whole body sent another shiver down my spine. If I did not know better, I would think that he was thinking about devouring me.
When he met my eyes, I looked away -- down, in fact. My eyes almost popped out when I realized that he was completely naked. I was not so innocent as to not know the different parts of a male body; Grandmother taught me all about that. His ... manhood was standing in its full height. Face burning, I turned away and tried to control the flood of blood up my face. It was an unsuccessful attempt.
"Your clothes!" I snapped almost hysterically. "Put them on!"
He was chuckling as he waded out of the water. "It scared you, didn't it? I'm very sorry. This is no way to introduce myself to a woman." There was a pause -- presumably as he put on his clothes. "My name is Marcus, by the way."
With resolution, I walked back to the bank, slightly wincing as I realized that the hem of my dress was already wet. I stepped on my slippers, grabbed the bucket from where it sat on the rock and fetched some water, not glancing even once at the man who had just introduced himself to me.
"Wait!" came his voice before I felt his hand around my wrist again, just as I was already walking away. "Will you please tell me your name at least?"
Against my better judgment, I turned to face him. The hopeful look on his face made me speechless. However, I shook my head at his request.
He swallowed. "You will be here again tomorrow, won't you?"
I did not say anything. I just turned away from him and started walking home, glad that he did not follow me.
*****
That night, for the first time in my life, I tossed and turned on my cot as I remembered the image of the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.
*****
