A Love Story

This is a true story, which I was there for, which has been embellished because I have a craptacular memory, but most of it's the same, and there's that kiss.....

We were standing in the bottom of E hall, where the gym was, a few of my friends and I. Down there was a snack bar, and we were stocking up, getting ready to wait out the afternoon until our parents came to pick us up. It was an average high school day. We were giddy over things of no consequence, clucking over our problems, and trials and tribulations, nothing spectacular. I don't remember who looked out the window first, but there were several of us who watched the scene unfold for several precious minutes before we said anything. We were far enough away that they did not see us, but close enough to make out their faces, and their expressions. Two people stood in the middle of the campus. One girl, one boy. She, young and pretty, not a cheerleader, but with all the looks and charm that came with being on the 'in crowd'. He played lacrosse, his stick with a bag at his feet. It was a Friday, and he was headed off to the big game. We didn't know where, we didn't follow lacrosse, but it was evident that he wouldn't be back until the next day, maybe not even until the weekend was over. I don't know what drew us to that couple, nondescript, but the center of attention, as they stood in that empty courtyard, we couldn't hear a word they said. But it was evident that whatever words they did send back and forth were heated. Our conversations stopped and we were caught up in their disagreement. One by one we silently drifted towards the window, and with baited breath watched their faces twist into anger, annoyance, disgust, and then back again. He would point and rave, and then it was her turn. It's hard to say how long this went on. It felt like hours, but it couldn't have been more than ten or fifteen minutes. But there we were, voyeurs into this most intimate of moments. It's never occurred to me before, but I wonder what would have happened if they noticed us peeking; taking in this most private of moments and storing it in our minds. Would they have moved away, or would they not have cared that they had an audience? We watched and watched, not daring to move, once in a while we would comment, and wonder what they were saying to one another, wonder what could have been so hurtful, so serious as to break up this most beautiful of loves, this high school romance that seems to start the moon and the sun spinning in the sky. Then they broke. The flood waters opened, and he walked away. She yelled after him, but he didn't stop, he didn't look back. I imagined tears streaming down his face as he wondered how he could make this girl understand. But that didn't seem to matter. The girl went to her knees, sobs racking her body. She wondered how she could make this boy understand. We fell with them. Not literally, but our faces fell and our eyes cast downward. As we turned away from the window, we wondered, is this all that love truly is? Young hearts are fickle, but this fickle? This fragile? As an idealist perhaps I was hurt the worst. I was young, and thought highly of love. Was this all there was? Hurtful words in front of hidden strangers and a terse goodbye? Swimming in my own sadness I heard a shout. My group rushed towards the window to see him. He was running towards her. He was almost there. He dropped his bag, his lacrosse stick, sailing. She looked up to him, rose to her feet. He gathered her in his arms. They kissed. We cheered. It was like a moment in a movie. That moment when you realize that they both know how the other one feels and no matter what else, they're together now. He loves her, she loves him and nothing else matters. We were so happy. Inappropriately happy. We hugged and jumped, and squealed, and were glad that they were glad. He gathered his bags, and they walked, his arm around her, her arm around him away from our sight. And we had seen all we needed to see. The moment was through, but we were happy then. They probably broke up not too long after that. Families moved, people go to college, it's been probably 8 years since this moment, and I have never forgotten it. I like to think that they're somewhere, happy, loving each other, and living every moment together. I'm probably wrong. But I like to think that's how it happened. I still smile when I think about that moment, when I think about the happiness I feel when I think that that day, for me, true love really existed. Several days after 'the Kiss', I saw the girl walking in the hall. I was with a friend from that day, and as much as I wanted to tell her we saw everything, my friend advised me against it. I walked up to the young lady, and I told her everything. I told her how we were watching, she looked at me with a smile on her face and said, "I thought I heard someone cheering".