Even on the cusp of hell, Paige’s dark eyes were reflected into mine, an unextinguishable fire. Her imperturbable gaze was more than about us, but the story of the man behind the blade. Culver exhibited the mien of a demon, but like a second star in the sky, a bigger story about the details of his life loomed. All three of us were intertwined in the deepest and darkest of ways. Paige had to be the only dark eyed angel in heaven—the beauty of her feathered dark hair flowing against all that was holy. I blamed myself for her presence. Although she couldn’t save me from my fate, she flew down anyway, battling demons to get here. There was acknowledgement in her stare, an understanding how much my childhood told the story of my true self. One I had forgotten over the years. The story of my anguish but the nascent of my belief in love. My story, though insignificant to the world now above, meant eternity or not for three souls.

Anger filled my heart up until the time I left earth and it’s no different here. I’m livid having eternity on my mind—having to relive all that fucking burns me. How would I go about uncovering the germane between Culver and Paige? This anger inside can’t save me. This story only fuels my urge to curse at the world I left behind. With so much hatred, with so much wrong, how could she think there’s hope here? How could she be so damn capricious? What the fuck did she see in me to come down here? Now I’m responsible for her? That falling made her collapse like a dying star upon itself? She had to know I was beyond hope! Fuck! She knew…she knew. She knew better to come here. Did I have to know about Culver? What they had? Should I have expected anything less than further torment? Please don’t look at me like that!

“You’re a loser! A total failure! Look at you—what have you done with your life? You’ve amounted to nothing! You are nothing!”

Suddenly I’m thrusted back to another version of hell—to my father’s destructive criticisms of me. They followed me from my teens into my mid-twenties, leaving me vulnerable to a much dangerous foe than my father—my own mind. Although I carried a low sense of self-worth, I held onto hope I’d find true love one day. Have children born out of it and raise them to believe in it. Sure, it seemed contradictive I didn’t believe in God, yet believed in love, but I’ve seen true love in my lifetime through others. I had never seen the existence of God. I thought having more faith in the existence of true love than God that maybe I’d find God through true love? No matter how many times reality showed me how farfetched my dream was, I couldn’t afford to end up as unhappy as my father. The last thing I wanted to do was burden a wife and kids with my unhappiness, leaving them to feel as worthless as I felt. They didn’t need my bitterness intruding on their lives.

Out of the billions of galaxies in the universe, it’s hard to believe Earth is the only planet with life out there. Like the scientists who searched for Earth-like planets, out of the billions of women who lived on this one, my true love had to be out there somewhere—I just had to believe that kind of love existed. The kind of love that never made you want to hit the snooze button because you were too anxious to start the day. The kind of love that never succumbed to a fear of being alone because it was the kind of love we all should be brave enough to wait for. The kind of love that made you want to schedule date night months in advance and inspired creativity with each one you had. The kind of love that made you want to see the world because you got to experience it with the one that stirred you to jump on a plane to do so. The kind of love that gave you the temerity to pick up an instrument and write a song to touch the one you loved without physically doing so. The kind of love that made you want to write vows of your own so the one you gave forever to never doubted it. In my search for that kind of love, I refused to be discouraged nor deterred—I would continue to dream until I found her. Any hardship would be viewed as another day closer to the discovery of that kind of love—the kind that carried the power to destroy the low self-worth my father instilled in me.

I recall my quest to find true love starting in the sixth grade—at a time I was far from interested in girls. No responsibilities, sheer ignorance, and the sun were the only three things I needed when I was eleven. While playing baseball, collecting baseball cards, and Star Wars took up most of the space in my head. Together, they created an immaculate environment to hope, wish, and dream in. I could be anything in the world I wanted to be—a major league ballplayer, a Paleontologist, an artist, an actor, even a film director! Nothing stopped me from being any one of those things, but they all took a back seat when I met the new girl in school during my sixth-grade year; Tricia Holland. This magical, slim, tanned, hazel-eyed vixen with long, straight, and dark brown hair gave the word “school” a brand-new identity in my eyes—a place I considered hell on Earth the prior six years before her arrival. For the first time, I couldn’t wait for school the next day, and it wasn’t because of a pizza party or it being a Friday.

When I started to look forward to school on Mondays, and weekends seemed too long, I knew I felt something special for the first time—and it terrified me. I knew my friends would tease me if they found out—I had to keep what I felt a secret. Each day on the playground, I alternated between the basketball court with my friends and the handball court where she was. I always found it easy to say “hi” to her, but a word beyond that scared me to death. My teacher must have noticed my plight during recess and paired me on a project with her. I was so nervous being around her; all I could do was crack jokes. They surprisingly made her laugh though, and when we got the highest score in class on our project, our teacher continued to pair us together on other class activities. I soon became more comfortable around her, and even started to play basketball and handball together at recess. One day, I asked her where she lived. Surprisingly she lived only two blocks down the street from me. I knew nothing about fate or destiny when she shared this information, but it sure seemed someone had listened to my prayers.

Before I could feel ecstatic about my good fortune, a curve ball was hurled at me—my two best friends, Vance Ryan and Greg Goodson, revealed they had crushes on Tricia. Being in a different class that year, they didn’t know her until she played basketball with us one morning during recess. Although their crushes on her validated my feelings, I had competition now. Greg was so proud of his feelings, he loudly announced them to the entire sixth grade class. My own mother, who was a cafeteria clerk at the school, knew about Greg’s crush—he even told her! Vance was quiet about his crush on Tricia for the same reasons I was. At least until Greg spoke brazenly of his feelings for her.

Greg didn’t waste any time to back up his words with action. Each day he tried to put his arm around her, and each time he did, Tricia laughed then pushed it off. Although she didn’t appear to be interested in him, like a hungry crocodile he remained undeterred. With absolutely no clue how to, I had to find a way to tell her how I felt. Fortunately, Tricia gave me something she denied my competition—her home address. One day, while being paired up on another project, she had a large plastic orange and black object hanging for dear life at the end of her pencil.

“Is that a cat?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s Garfield!” She emphatically exclaimed. “You know who Garfield is!”

“Oh, no.” I retorted, scrambling to think of another famous cat. “Uh…I’ve only heard of Felix the Cat!”

“Felix the Cat? Never heard of him. Is that a cartoon?”

“I think so.”

“Garfield has his own comic books. They have them at B. Dalton.” She informed me with widened eyes. “He’s sooo funny! His comic strip is in the News-Pilot every day, too.”

“No kidding? I’ll have to check that out when I get home!” I replied, smiling back with genuine intent.

Armed with this new intelligence, right after school I walked a half mile to the B. Dalton bookstore near my house. Since the bookstore was my home away from home—my head could usually be found in the latest baseball card price guide or Mad magazine there—I knew exactly where to go to find the Garfield books. Upon noticing they had all three of those brightly colored comic strip books, I grabbed the one titled “Garfield at Large”. While chewing on a piece of gum, I flipped through the pages like a mad scientist to see if I could find the same humor in them Tricia did. With every page, I laughed heartedly finding it to be one of the funniest things I ever read. Inside the much less customer friendly bookstores of 1982, they didn’t have chairs to sit in. As my feet ached halfway through the book, I glanced at my watch to notice a half hour already flew by. Before I could put my nose back in the book, a couple, seemingly in their late thirties, were sneering at me. Upon realizing my laughs were on the boisterous side, I quickly put the book away in the same spot I found it. After apologizing to the “old people”, I fled the scene. Although my time at the bookstore was cut short, it turned out to be well spent. I not only learned Tricia had a great sense of humor, I also understood my heart faced an even greater risk—my feelings for her had grown.

That night I went home, and two months before the arrival of Halloween, asked my mother if I could have the “Garfield at Large” book for Christmas. On Christmas Day, I not only got the book I asked for, but all three of the Garfield comic books available at the time. When I returned to school after the two-week break, I couldn’t wait to talk to Tricia.

“You have all three?” She asked, her eyes alive with disbelief.

“All three! I couldn’t believe it! They’re hysterical!” I replied, meeting her eyes with the same liveliness.

“You’re so lucky, Landyn! I only have the first one.”

Upon my news, she put her head on my shoulder and kept it there for a few seconds before lifting it and smiling at me. That entire day I was on cloud nine, but also felt bad for her. Before class started, our teachers read off a list of students who had birthdays in January, and Tricia was part of the group. I had been saving up for a Colecovision video game system, but decided to use the money on something else—the two Garfield books Tricia didn’t have. The only problem was that her birthday party would be an “all-girls” affair, and I wanted to make sure she had them on her birthday. A bigger problem though? I was a big chicken; extremely shy and feared rejection. I really liked Tricia and I ached for her to feel the same way I did. At eleven, I already felt rejected by my own father so it felt natural to dread her judgment but also the verdicts of classmates who were certain to find humor in it. But I had to let her know I liked her more than a friend—it ate me up too much not to. Garfield was the bridge to her heart.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I wanted to thank her for the happiness she gave me, but the act of getting this gift to her took on a life all its own. I played baseball every day with Vance and Greg, and we spent most of the day talking about Tricia. We often talked about “going around” with her, who we thought she liked and who she could care less for. We were decent looking guys; Vance was the tallest with a slim build, thin wavy dark brown hair, a long pale face, and green eyes. Greg was my height but weighed the most out of the three of us. He had thick short black hair, a rounded face, brown eyes, and a stout build. In our sixth-grade class, Greg was the funniest, Vance was the smartest, and I was elected its President. It also didn’t hurt we were the best athletes at our school and were usually picked first or second on teams most of the time. We were all well-liked, and that gave us each an equal chance to win Tricia over. One day out on the baseball field, we got caught up in a conversation about her upcoming birthday party.

“Hey guys, do you know how old Tricia’s gonna be?” Greg asked us as Vance and I retrieved our mitts to take our turn in the field.

“I don’t know. Eleven?” Vance said as he made his way to the mound. “Do you know, Land?”

“She’s turning twelve.” I replied without hesitation.

“Ooh la la! I hooked me an older woman!” Declared Greg as he moved his hips in a circular motion while swirling the bat above his head before he entered the batter’s box. “I’m gonna ask Tricia if I can go to her party.”

“It’s an ‘all-girls’ party, Greggy.” I informed him before putting the catcher’s mask on then squatting behind the plate.

“I don’t care.” Greg said, shaking his head. “She’s gonna be my girlfriend soon anyway.”

I had to stand up to catch Vance’s high fastball as he threw Greg a little chin music after what he said.

“We can tell how much she likes you every time she pushes your arm off of her!” Vance yelled as I threw him back the ball.

“Did ya get her somethin’?” I asked as Greg stood outside of the batter’s box.

“Don’t hit me, Vance!” Greg shouted, pointing the bat at Vance before stepping back in the box. “No. Did you?”

“Yep.” I unwittingly replied then quickly reversing course. “I mean…no. Why would I buy her a gift? I wasn’t even invited to her party.”

Vance suddenly slammed his glove to the ground.

“Oh, come on! Did Landyn say he got her a gift?” Vance asked.

“Yeah!” roared Greg. “He did!”

“No dammit! I didn’t!” I bellowed, throwing off my mask to make sure Vance heard me. “He’s lying! I didn’t get her anythin’!”

“Yeah right! I know you got her a gift!” Greg retorted.

“How would you know?”

“Your mom told me.”

“What?” I shot, knowing that moment I was dead to rights. “She did?”

“Mrs. Lastman told you Land got her a gift?” Vance yelled as he stood on the mound hands on hips.

“Yeah!” Greg laughed.

“Oh, come on Landyn!” Vance yelled throwing his hands in the air before picking up his glove back up.

“Landyn’s in wuuuuuuuuuv!” Teased Greg.

“What? I’m too young to be in love. Can we just play baseball?” I informed them before squatting then putting the catcher’s mask back on.

Failing to recognize that even among the best of friends, all was fair in love and war, I had to conjure up a plan on how to give Tricia my gift to her. An hour before the start of her party, I planned to simply drop the gift off on her front porch then take off unseen. Someone would have to eventually see it when they arrived at the party and bring it inside.

An hour before her party began, at eleven in the morning, I reached her house ready to execute my plan. At the moment I arrived though, someone was a step ahead of me—Vance Ryan. All we could do was stare at each other without a word. Our brightly colored wrapped gifts in our hands—both dressed in black in the light of day.

“What are you doin’ here?” Whispered Vance angrily as we both stooped down to hide behind a car parked directly across the street from Tricia’s house.

“What am I doing here? I’m the one who got her a gift.” I reminded him.

“Yeah, well I got her one too. Thanks a lot, by the way!” He revealed. “How do ya wanna to do this? Do you want me to go to her door first or should we just go together?”

“I was just gonna drop it off on her front porch and leave.”

“What? That’s insane! Why would ya do that? Don’t ya wanna see her?”

“Well, I wasn’t invited and thought that would be a lame way to kind of invite myself—you know—just showin’ up with a gift. It might make her feel bad she didn’t invite me.” I explained, my eyes fixated on her home. “I didn’t wanna be a pity invite.”

“Good point.” Vance whispered. “Okay. How do ya wanna do this?”

“I’ll go first.” I told him.

As the reality of the moment became too real for me, I got cold feet just before we executed my plan. The fear of rejection hit me out of nowhere as my birthday gift surprise didn’t seem like much of one anymore.

“You know what…I can’t do it, Vance. I’ll just walk up to Park Plaza later on today and get a refund.” I conceded. “I’m cravin’ one of those banana splits from Newberry’s anyway.”

“That’s crazy talk.” Vance shot back as he snatched the gift from my hands. “I’ll be right back.”

With two gifts, both about the same size tucked under his right arm, he slowly snuck across the street and to the front porch of her house. I nearly blew our cover though, struggling to hold back my laughter when I saw him tip-toe in broad daylight on a quiet street—as if Tricia, or anyone else, could hear his footsteps. When he reached the front porch, he dipped his tall lanky frame to the ground in fear of being seen through their porch window. After laying the gifts down, he dropped to his stomach and crawled off her brick porch as if he took on enemy fire. When he cleared the porch, he jumped to his feet and made a break for it—a full on sprint back to our foxhole behind the parked car.

“What so funny?” Vance asked when he reappeared.

“I’m sorry, but that was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.” I whispered, unable to stop smiling. “Thanks for doin’ that.”

“I’m glad I could provide ya with some comedy relief.” He whispered back. “Do you think anyone saw me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good! Let’s get outta here!”

“Let’s go.” I said but as I rose, Vance shoved me back down.

“Dude.” he groaned, pointing straight ahead through the parked car’s window. “You’re not gonna believe who just showed up.”

“Aw, man. Did ya tell him?” I groaned upon seeing Greg on the opposite side of the street with a wrapped gift under his arm.

“No way.” He replied, chuckling. “Look Land, he’s actually goin’ to the front door.”

“He is?”

When Greg appeared a minute after Vance dropped off our gifts, we hid from his view and waited to see what he would do. Without any hesitation, he went straight for her front door. After ringing the doorbell, just ten seconds passed before Tricia’s mother greeted him. Like a meteor streaking across the sky, we watched with our mouths agape as Greg strolled past our gifts and right inside her house. In disbelief and disappointment, we stood up from behind the parked car but quickly dropped to the ground when Mrs. Holland suddenly reappeared. We watched her spot our gifts then look around. She then shook her head, picked them up and went back inside. When we heard the door slam, our feelings were bittersweet. We were relieved our gifts infiltrated the Holland compound, but stunned that Greg was now with our girl.

“You still goin’ to Newberry’s for a banana split?” Vance asked.

“I was gonna go to B. Dalton too. Wanna go?”

“Yeah, I’ll join ya.” He replied as we both dealt with the dramatic turn of events. “I think I need to read those Garfield books now.”

Not even a banana split could help shorten the longest weekend of my eleven years of life. All I could do was hope my gift meant the most to her when Monday arrived. My hands were so sweaty, my lunch box nearly slipped out of them before I made it to school that morning. As I stood outside just before class, a light tap graced my shoulder. When I turned around, Tricia stood before me.

“Thank you sooo much for the books! I read both of them this weekend! I couldn’t put them down!” She exclaimed, handing me a small card. “I wanted to call you to say thanks, but I don’t have your number so I got you a ‘thank you’ card.”

“I’m so happy you liked them! I just had to get them for you. You didn’t have to get me a card, but thank you and you’re welcome.” I said with a nervous smile, holding onto the card tightly. “Happy Birthday, Tri—”

Before I could finish my sentence, she wrapped her arms around me and put her lips to my cheek. Standing in absolute shock, I quickly embraced her too. This wasn’t something she did outside before school in front of just the sixth-grade class, but the entire school. I refused to be the first to let go, but when the school bell rang five seconds later, she did just that—taking a part of me with her. Although it was for only a brief moment, my heart beat became irregular. Seeing how many times she shoved Greg’s arm off of her, her hug and kiss had to mean something. As the morning hours progressed at a snail pace, I couldn’t concentrate on the day’s lesson. All I could do was daydream about having a girlfriend and the fun we had in store together. It was all planned out in my head too—hand in hand, walking to B. Dalton together from her house. Tricia riding her bike up to my house so we could spend the day together on forbidden jaunts outside of our neighborhood. Watching me play baseball at the park with Vance and Greg. I even dreamt of her in the stands at my park’s recreational league baseball games. I’m sure I’d hit a few home runs and have a higher batting average knowing she was watching. I was also willing to be there for anything she did too, and to be her biggest fan. Her card never left my hand that morning as I imagined it was her hand in mine.

When the bell rang for lunch, I couldn’t wait to ask Tricia if she wanted to do something after school. While grabbing my lunch tray though, it seemed she was already dining with someone else—Greg. Considering Tricia’s show of affection for me, she likely only hung out with him to let him down easy—and maybe to ask him questions about me. I then opted to sit with Vance and another group of boys and girls instead. Vance filled me in that Tricia gave him a thank you card too, but one that came without a hug or a kiss. At the table, I overheard a girl say that “Greg loves Tricia” and I began to feel bad for him. He was the most vocal about the way he felt about her and was brave enough to put himself out there. In fact, I wished to have been more like Greg, but my mind wouldn’t allow me to. If I were to interrupt his lunch to tell him that “Tricia and I are now going around.”, nothing could be more arrogant of me. Part of the fun of “going around” with Tricia was being able to hang out with Vance and Greg with her. As they sat together at lunch, I only hoped she was letting my good friend down softly.

After finishing lunch and putting my tray away, I headed towards them. Upon reaching them, she didn’t even notice me. It was then she tacitly informed me whose gift meant the most to her—her hand falling inside his. As they walked off in the opposite direction, I did the same. I remember looking down, my eyes following the weed-ridden cracked asphalt below trying hard not to cry. That afternoon in class, the longest of my life, it was the news of the day—Greg and Tricia were now “going around”. More official than that particular public service announcement, was that at eleven years old, I experienced my first heartbreak.

When the bell rang for the final time that day, Greg and his prize walked towards Vance and me with a wide smile, giving us both the thumbs up sign as he walked by. While Vance gave him the finger, I instead returned his thumbs up with a smile and then one of my own. After school, I just went to my room, came out when my mom had dinner ready, finished my homework, and then fell asleep. For a while school was pretty tough to get through, but after a few weeks passed, I started to feel better. A few months later, Greg and Tricia broke up because she liked some other boy from another school. I never rooted for things not to work out between them. Greg was one of my best friends, and Tricia clearly had good taste. After she chose him over me though, I lost all I ever felt for her. My friendship with Tricia fell apart after she broke up with Greg, signaling the end of my first emotional experience with the opposite sex. Although losing a part of my innocence, I learned how great it felt to have feelings for someone—better than I ever imagined. There were too many planets out there to remain sad about the loss of one. At least, that’s what I believed.