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Part One

Holding open the door for her was always the better part of my day when life, as it does, places people together, for whatever reason. Our reason was to learn.

Her name I prefer to keep to myself and her eyes still have me mistaken. Dark green, I thought, but I'm blind to colour, and they are most likely hazel. 

Two people bond if they stare too long into each other's eyes and it's my human flaw to have looked away.

She's very real and still here in this city with its rumbling surf, heavy traffic, malls, water lined parkways, and neon-lit restaurants. When night falls and I am unable to sleep with a mind full of the past and uncertain future, however long, I go walking in the quiet of it. 

It's very beautiful, like she is.

I sit beneath the sails draped over Harbour Drive and they glow different colours and I'm glad these are colours I can see.

In the food court toward Park Avenue fairy lights sparkle in the trees there and I lose track of time. It's three a.m. before I know it. 

She thanked me pleasantly and it had been a long time since someone had said thank you. The way she said it was genuine and playful and she speaks with an accent which makes it all the more powerful to hear.

" Sank you, " she said. 

She's a strong woman and I watched her when we were in that classroom together and I caught myself staring at her often and she knew I was doing it well before I recognised. 

Her scar is something which intrigues me and some people would recoil in horror, but not me. It's part of her and although curious I didn't want to ask her about it from fear of triggering some memory of hers best left alone

I wanted to run my fingers along it, exploring the nature of it, accepting it onto myself through touch.

" I don't ever want you to hurt, " are words I cemented in my throat because I knew she would never understand me and I would only seem crazy, old, emotional, and foolish. Best suited for loneliness and collecting seashells on the beach with a cat and making jewellery no-one ever buys. A castaway and Irish in his blood far away from her history. Her people are very romantic yet mine speak it aloud and frequently. I'm Irish and I'm sorry. 

Holding open the door for her really was the better part of my day and I miss doing that for her.

The last time she and I sat together and spoke I told her she was beautiful. I said it without thinking and so loud and clear everyone in the building would have heard it. At least I was genuine and I didn't mean to upset her.

" I'm fearful of my family, " I wanted to tell her. " They make everything their business and scare people away from me. If I told you I was a good man I'd be lying to you and I refuse to lie to you. I'm not good but I can be. That's half the battle won. " 

She is a serious woman and takes things to heart but I've also seen her relax and laugh and have fun and if I were a wishful man I'd wish to have a smile as sweet as hers.

She said, " I'm going back to school to learn to speak English some more. "

I hope she's doing well but I always thought she was more understandable than most people I've ever met.

She said, " Sank you. " 

Sometimes, that is all it takes for a woman to meet the love of her life and I also hope someday soon she meets them, and I hope they open doors for her, and they seat her at the table, and cook and clean for her, and respect all her perfect imperfections,  and they look after themselves for her, and most of all I hope they open the door for her and see it as the better part of their day.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing and is a marvelous teacher and reveals to us the secrets of life as it inevitably does. 



Part Two


Love is an undetermined thing. It can last five minutes or forever.  Hindsight has taught me love is not about me. It’s about her.

     The last time I saw her I told her she was beautiful and made it loud and clear. She told me she was going to school to learn English better and I wanted to hug her because she was taking life skills in her stride. 

     I didn’t see her after that and resigned to my walks along Harbour Drive at three a.m to sit beneath the sails, bathed in the colours of the lights.

     On occasion I wrote letters to old friends but eventually threw them away. They offered me only sadness. Despondency is something I can honestly live without.

     She wrote me a brief message and explained she was unable to see me  because our cultures clashed far too much and I understood and hoped for her to complete her in due time. 

     It made me angry but it’s in my nature to forgive and although I’m not a good man or a man of any certainty, I can be, and I prayed for her. 

     After months of teaching myself to forget love and all its attachments she walked out of Suban Thai with a small bag of food and it was the last place I’d expect to find her. 

     We made eye contact as she adjusted her sunglasses and she had dyed her hair, her clothes more loose fitting, and instinctively I held open the door for her, and she said, “ Sank you. “

      Without thinking, I said, “ I still love you. “

      She frowned and sighed because she had changed her life in obvious ways and didn’t have time for this, not time for he who sits on Harbour Drive at three a.m thinking of the past and uncertain future, however long.

     She was aware of how I felt and she didn’t feel the same way but she took time enough to speak with me and ask how I was and her English was so clear I wanted to cry.

      She allowed me to have lunch with her and she was swapping our food and interested. She made me happy.

     I gave her my address and phone number and the following day without warning she knocked at my door..

     “ I’m not supposed to be here, “ she said. “ My brother thinks I’m out shopping today. “

     Her bottom lip dropped and quivered.

     “ You shouldn’t lie to your family, “ I said, sounding old and strict. I knew it. “ I’m sorry you did that. “

     Acting impulsively I took her hand and invited her in.

     “ Don’t worry, “ I re-assured her. “ I’ll take the blame. It’s all my fault. “

     “ I have to be at the mall at two p.m. “

     “ And that’s where your family will find you. “

     We had a great day.

     I made sure she went shopping and we were playful, like teenagers. She rather liked the t-shirt I bought her. It was floral.

     At lunch, she said, “ You haven’t smoked one single cigarette today. Could it be that I'm good for you? “

     “ Could be. You’re more relaxed than usual. “

     She hid her smile with her hand then reached out plucking something imaginary from my hair, flicking it away, then ran her finger along my right eyebrow.

     “ Use tweezers, “ she said. “ Look after yourself for me. “

     In the following months I saw her a lot and life improved but we were found out and I kept my promise and took the blame and made more promises I was entitled to keep. Our cultures clashed and I was always going to be the Irish outsider.

     I didn’t care.

     All I needed now was her because as hindsight would have it I discovered I was the very person I hoped would complete her. 

      I touched her scar and kissed her neck and held her in dim lit hallways and alleys beside restaurants in which I seated her at tables and opened doors for her.

     At New Year fireworks popped and sizzled in the sky and she could have been with any one of seven billion people on Earth but she was with me and she was going through my backpack and using my deodorant because she knew I had it in there.

     At the sea end of the jetty she kissed my lips all by herself and dropped my hand to her hip and she smelled of sandalwood and was more daring than we had ever been before but it was still love undetermined.

     The moment she kissed me I silently and thankfully prayed to God.

     “ Sank you. “

Bio: Luke Christipher Hennessy lives in Coffs Harbour, NSW, Australia and doesn't distinguish. He's a very loveable human being and welcomes opinions and friends from all over the world. He is a cross genre author but is most well known for writing Horror. 



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