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Green eyes
We did not agree in anything, we fought in class, in the lunch break, everyone thought we were enemies, and we were.
I met him my first year of high school, I remember how every girl in the class had a crush in him, he was blonde, tall, green eyes, and had a very deep voice that make the girls tingle. He knew that, he knew everything, he was type of guy that if he hadn’t had a bottle in his hand he had a book, he read everything, from Kant to Smith, from Neruda to Vargas Llosa, he even knew how to read people, he analyzed everything I guess that is reason he was so good at math.
We were in the same literature class, he always showed up late with his friends and a coffee, he sat in the back and never noticed me, expect when I talked about my opinion of the poems, then he would talk to correct me and try to humiliate me in front of the class, but I always responded to his rude comments. We fought, a lot. Sometimes he will text me screenshots of articles to prove that he was right in class, he was the most arrogant person in the entire world. But he knew that I kind of liked that.
One day he asked me if I would like to go to dinner, I was so confused and as you do, I said yes. He picked me up in this black vintage car, took me to a nice low key restaurant that had live jazz music, it was very romantic. That they he told me everything about him, I did not say a Word in the entire evening, it just was him talking about his life and his parents, and I saw the joy in his green eyes, his beautiful green eyes.
The next morning, I got a text from a friends, telling me that she was going to arrive at my house in ten minutes, I remember she sat in the living room and said
“He is dead, his brother found him dead in their apartment”
I did not cry, I did not do anything, I was in shock, my friend hugged me, but I didn’t hug her back, I was in shock.
It was late, we were all at church, praying for him, you could see the people crying over him, he was an arrogant but the boy was a good friend to many. I could not speak, I mean I was the last person that saw him alive, the last person that talked to him. I was so confused, the night before he seemed so happy, so alive, and then I realized I did not how he died, but who should I ask? Or maybe I shouldn’t ask, but I know that it was not a car accident, because his brother was riding his car, I know that he was healthy, maybe a suicide.
I was leaving the church, my black high heels were killing me, and then his oldest brother approached and told me
“I know you are the last person that saw him”
“yes, we went out for dinner” I answered.
“He left you a card” he said while pulling out of his jackets
“He killed himself right?” He did not answer but I knew why the look in his face the answer was yes.
I was in my car, still in the parking. I opened the letter
“Dear poet,
I am so sad that I won’t be able to bother you in literature, it was time that I started living my eternal life, the life of the death. Please know you were the most incredible person I have ever know, please do not forget that. Keep reading your poems, tell my brother that is a box in my room with your name in it, they are my favorite books and I want you to read them. Wear that red lipstick of yours every day, your look beautiful with it. Do not think of me too often, I do not want you to be sad. Be brave and happy, be yourself. You must know you gave me the best last dinner I could ever asked for.
Green eyes”
