Bliss looked up from her building blocks to the sneering voice.
It was Rhaen.
He had his thumb in his mouth, staring at her building.
Bliss looked down in puzzlement.
“Engaged?” She frowned at her block “building”, looking this way and that. “What’s engaged?”
“Engaged means…uh…means that…uh…that you are going to be married to someone. Yup, that’s right. It means…” the boy looked at the girl’s puzzled face. ”It means that you wear a ring on your fourth finger on your left hand.” The small boy pointed at the silver ring on the girl’s left hand. “See, you’re wearing a ring on your fourth finger. That means you’re engaged.”
“I am not!”
“Yes you are! Tell me now, which boy are you going to marry?”
“I am not engaged!”
“Am too!”
“Am not! And if you don’t stop being mean I’m never going to speak to you again!”
“You’re probably going to marry Paul. He’s always giving you candy from his recess.”
“Paul is fat, and you are very mean. I mean what I say. I’m not going to talk to you forever!”
With that, the five-year-old girl stalked off, her small nose high up in the air.
She didn’t see the hurt in her best friend’s eyes, or the tears that threatened to overflow down his fat cheeks.
He looked down at the stack of blocks, overturned in her anger.
She had wrenched the ring away, indignant.
Rhaen picked up the silver ring, and looked back to the retreating figure, stalking haughtily to the paint easels, her little nose turned up. She didn’t look back.
He looked down at the ring again, his pudgy fingers grasping it tightly. He looked back to the girl, and saw her hand lift up to wipe away her tears.
Something made him run forward towards the crying girl.
She turned at the sound of nearing footsteps, and the running boy crashed into Bliss. They both fell onto the floor. Bliss started to cry again, rubbing her sore bottom.
“Don’t cry. I’m…I’m…sor..sorry.” The boy muttered softly. Bliss looked up in surprise, her purple eyes still wet. Rhaen blushed. He’d never said sorry before.
“There. I said it. I’m sorry I was mean. I was jealous, that’s all.”
“Jealous? What is that?” The girl scrunched up her face in puzzlement again.
“Jealous is…is…” The six-year-old scratched his head for an explanation. “Jealous is…” He looked down at the little girl’s face, no longer crying. She looks so cute when she scrunches up her face like that, he thought, regaining his good temper. “Never mind what jealous is. Just that it’s a bad thing. And I was being mean cause I felt bad.” The little girl nodded gravely, though she didn’t really understand.
“Yup, you were mean.” She turned her back towards the boy, pushing her nose up in the air. The little boy looked sufficiently chagrined. She peeked at him obviously.
“But I forgive you.” She turned back again, smiling. Rhaen smiled too, relieved. And then he looked at the ring in his hand.
“There. I think this belongs to you.” He took the ring and sled it onto the girl’s fourth finger. Left hand. The girl frowned, scrunching up her face in puzzlement once more.
“I thought this means that I’m engaged.” She said, looking at her ring. Rhaen grinned at her.
“Yes it is.” He looked mischievously at Bliss. “You are engaged to me!”
With that he took the girl’s left hand in his, and ran off to the building blocks once more.
Bliss fidgeted uncomfortably.
All her life she had been comfortable with almost everything.
Everything, that is, except for the note she held in her hands.
It was addressed to Rhaen.
She had known him since kindergarten.
They had been close friends, their mothers had known each other really well.
When he was seven he had to leave the country with his parents to Japan.
He had said something about his father being posted there, but to a six year old kid, that had meant nothing but having her best friend torn away.
And now he is back, after nine years. Nine whole years.
And she suddenly felt that she wanted to be close to him all the time.
At first she had put it down to the long time they had been apart.
But over time, she realised that her feelings were deeper than that.
She was having a crush on him.
She fiddled with the note again. It was her confession note. That is, it said what Bliss felt for him.
She wondered whether she should give it to him.
He fidgeted in his seat, venturing a smile on the girl who sat beside him.
She smiled back.
He kept glancing to the note in her hand. I
It had his name on it.
He wondered what was in it.
Rhaen didn't like surprises.
It just didn't give him enough time to react, and often his mask of indifference fell when he was surprised.
He didn't like that. He didn't like surprises.
His gaze flickered back to the note, his mind thinking about her. Bliss. Her name fitted her.
Every time he was near her, bliss was what he felt.
Even back in kindergarten.
He smiled secretly, remembering the moments of jealousy he had felt whenever the innocent five year old had socialized with other guys, unknowingly hurting his feelings.
But they were young then.
He had come back to find not the pudgy adorable kid but the equally innocent and pretty girl.
No, not pretty.
Beautiful. Momentarily he thought: I am in love.
But what about HER?
Bliss looked up in time to see Rhaen's lips purse, his eyes harden and his smile disappear.
She frowned and started fiddling with the note again.
Sometimes he would be really nice to her, and then he would seem to change into someone else altogether, someone who was cold and indifferent, someone who hated himself.
Like how he was now.
Suddenly a thought struck her: What if he has a girlfriend? What if he wants her to go away?
Rhaen tried to block them out, but they kept coming. Thoughts of her, the times they spent together
No! I am over her now!
But they kept coming, flooding his mind. Images of Gillian, smiling, laughing, sleeping.
And then, Gillian saying I love you to him, her face etched with pain and her blood running down his arms as he held her.
Her last words drifted into his ears once more.
Wait for me. She had died then.
Bliss looked up, studying Rhaen's face.
He looked so serious, so hurt, so full of pain.
She looked down at the note again, biting her lip nervously.
The writing on top was smudged, the blue streaks reflecting her inner turmoil.
She saw her mum waving in the distance. She had to go home.
Well, Rhaen, see you tomorrow then.
She kept her voice even.
Rhaen didn't even look up.
Softly, she whispered a hurt goodbye.
Then she walked off towards her mother, throwing the note into the dustbin.
Author's Note:
if you EVER have anything to say, any truth to confess, its better to take a chance and do it. Do not be afraid of disappointment as you never know how things will turn out.
