See You Again

See You Again

By Sofia G. Julen

{ Trigger Warning – war and death of a romantic partner}

{Song That Inspired It — See You Again by Tyler, The Creator}

It was cold in these barracks but my face felt warm with both tears and the act of blushing. It was an odd feeling to be mentally admiring but extremely sad and broken at the same time. Especially since we would set sail for war soon. Tomorrow soon.

We were warring with a nearby country over their land and riches. We had to cross a river to get here but we already did that. We’re resting in tents outside of their borders. Almost a year ago, I would have been thrilled about doing this.. but now? I’d rather die. And it’s all because of one woman. Another tear rolled down as I merely thought of her gracious name.

Amara. Amara Santos.

She was absolutely gorgeous with long brown hair and warm eyes. I met her in a bakery while on a mission from my commander. Deep down, I wish I'd never gone on that mission even if it meant I could never meet her. So much so that I can still remember when he gave me the order.

Commander Edsel had called me to his makeshift office, to which I found him sitting at a wooden desk, staring intently at me. “Son.” He said to me. I wasn’t his son, nor was he more than fifteen years older than me, but that had been what he called me since I first stepped onto our camp. “I’ve got a mission for you.”

I nodded my head in response and waited for an answer. He grunted before continuing.

“The government ordered that we start infiltrating Domusol in a year or two and I need somebody trustworthy to go and find a way in and around it so we can start planning ahead. I want you to do it. You’re stealthy, trustworthy, and easy to talk to–surely you’d be great at it. If you want to do it, and I’m not forcing you to, then I need you to sign this.”

He pushed a toned paper toward me to the point it nearly fell off the desk. I let out a breath and looked away. This was the opportunity I'd been looking for but seemed like I'd regret something. At the time I was stupid enough to shake the concern out of my head and sign the blasted paper.

If only I knew how real and true that gut feeling would soon become, I thought. ‘Cause here you are now–crying like a fool.

It was bittersweet to think of Amara–all her memory did was make me remember why I fell in love with her and what she could have become. A loss in the war my people started, an evil part of my mind stated–a part of my mind I often scowled at. I nearly whimper at the thought.

Still, I think of what we could’ve been, had kleptocracy not existed.

Thanks to the warm feeling surrounding the hole in my chest, I just know that we would’ve had a small cabin in the woods by her hometown. She loves it there. Said it gives her peace of mind and joy.

She said that was where she would like to be buried.

We’d have three kids: Delilah, Quinn, and Ivy or Owen, Felix, and Rueben–it depended on the genders. If only we could have those children.

Amara was like the sunshine to me, specifically golden hour. She is mine, and I am hers. She shines enough to cover the earth while I am the flora that bears fruits and flowers in her honor.

What if I have to kill her? My thoughts interrupted. That time, I did whimper, though it was more like a sob. If I was the one to do it, it would break me. Merely thinking of it hurt, so I turned my thoughts back to us.

If only there were an “us”.

If there was an “us” then I’d be able to make her breakfast for her on her birthday. If there was an “us” then I’d get her flowers every Sunday so she wouldn’t have to watch the old one’s die over time. Because they never do–and I’m not talking about flowers when I say that. If there were an “us” then I’d be able to wake up, roll over, and hear her smooth voice. Every day.

More tears smoothly slid down my face. It had gotten to the point where my thoughts turned to tears and bleed out of my eyes. To the point where I can’t stop them.

I quietly move my pillow from under my head to the side of my body. If I can’t hold her in reality then surely I can in my dream. I lay my head on the tip of the pillow and turn my head so that my sobs would be muffled.

I wish I could tell her “Good night”. So I told it to the stars instead–where she was likely to rest soon.

[Time skip to after the war]

And she did rest there.

Well, physically in an opening I found in the woods, buried near a small flower garden, but she was always bright in dark times so I called her my star. She would also rest in my heart till the end of time–but that’s emotionally. I knew I would always love her.

That’s why anytime the kids would ask for my war stories, I’d tell them that. I’d tell them how I fell in love with a woman I was ordered to kill. That it was my biggest regret.

Every time I was done telling them, I would ask them if they understood the moral of the story. Usually they got it wrong, but occasionally they’d get it right.

Either way, I told them: “More often now than then, tree limbs fall while surrounding people stand and watch in horror. Just because the limbs got tangled and fell for each other, doesn't mean it was a good thing.” But, It was never about trees. I wanted them to be sure that they’d fall in love with the right person. I did not fall in love with the right person–but while I do not regret falling for her, I do regret that she wasn’t the one I was able to love in the right way.