The Box of Lavender

 Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lobsterandswan/6997233329/in/faves-sarahloven/

There was a box under my bed that I never open since highschool. It was a wooden box with pale green paint and a faint scent of lavender. The scent came from potpourri I put in the box, which I use to bury some cardboxes and brown envelopes. I don't really like opening that box, but today is an exception. I would see him at dinner anyway. And I really have to pack all my things since my family would move out of this town in two or three days.

.....

It was a sunny day when I decided to take a rest for a while in PE class. I knew if I kept running, I would pass out. Not a good way to spend your first day as a freshmen, passed out in the clinic.

"Hey, want some water?" I turned around and saw a senior with a pair of glasses, sat alone on wooden seat in the hall. He brought a book and a bottle of water with him.

I hestitated a little bit before finally said, "yea, sure".  He gave me a wide smile as he walked down the stairs and hand the water bottle.

I took some small gulps, and eventually the bell rang. My first reflect is to give back the water bottle to him.

"Nah, you keep it for today. I could take it later at your home." I must looked confused and rather suprised, because then he chuckled and said, "You don't realize that we are neighbor, do you?"

I shook my head as his chuckle changes into a laugh. In my defense, we just moved to this town due to my father's job deployment, so I hadn't really know all of our neighbors yet.

"Never mind. Take that bottle, you need it more than I do."

And he left.

...

He was there, stood beside his parked car. I waved my hand and approached him, who smiled to me.

"Your brother can't pick you up, so your mom asked me instead," he told me when I finally reached him.

"Sooo typical him, hmpf! It's Saturday night, you don't go on a date or something?" I asked him casually as I enter his car. There was a scent of peppermint, as he always smell like, as well as a scent of lavender, which is a pretty common flower in the town so they sprung pretty much everywhere. I would not be surprised if there was some of them sprung at the meadow beside the parking lot.

"It's ok, I've asked her to wait a little bit so I could pick you up, drive you back to your house, and pick her up afterwards," he replied coolly as he drove the car out from the parking lot.

I felt a slight lurch in my stomach hearing that, but I played it cool as I said, "thank you for picking me up, you're even nicer to me than my own brother."

He laughed and messed my hair.

....

"Sweetie, you know our neighbor's son, right? He went to same school with you. He is going to leave for his college today, perhaps you want to say good bye or something," my mom said on a bright, sunny Saturday morning. The maple pancake I tried to swallow suddenly felt stucked in my throat. How could he not telling me himself? I knew we weren't really close, but really it was a common fact everyone would know eventually. Why didn't he tell me by himself?

I gazed vacantly to the window, seeing the breeze  blew some reddish-brown leaves from their trees.

“You can say good bye now, if you want to,” added my mom, after she saw my troubled expression.

I decided not to say good bye to him. If he wanted me to come, he would tell me himself.

.....

And here I am now. Opening the box of photographs, random doodles, and letters we exchanged back then when he was in college at another town. Most of them consist of lavender, as we both like the scent and it reminds him of his hometown.  I smile slightly as I pick and see some of them, smile at the memories, at the strange fact that we were closer when we were apart. After some thinking last night, I decide I will keep this box. I wrap it with a bubble wrap, since the box is quite old and I don’t want to see it dented by the movers. I put the box on top of other boxes and lift them downstairs, where the boxes and other things are gathered to be picked up by the movers.

“Need a hand?” I heard someone greet me when I almost reach last step in the stairs. Him. He don’t wait for my answer and take the boxes. I took the bubble wrapped wooden box on the top of the pile, just to make sure it is safe.

“I know what that is,” he smirk as he see the box, “You still keep all of them?”

“Yes, problem?” I reply defensively and raise my eyebrows. The box is a part of me. Actually, it is a part of us, but I don’t know whether he realize it. I would not tell him that fact, though. Not ever.

He just laugh. That laugh, that exact laugh I always hear in my dreams.

“Your boyfriend’s not coming?” he ask as he put down the boxes near the fireplace, where the other boxes are gathered.

“Not now, no, he got family stuffs as well. But he would come later, for dinner,” I answer as leaning to the door frame.

“Great, so both of you would come to my house tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s your engagement dinner. Wouldn’t miss it for the whole world!”

.....

The truth is not always pretty, I have to admit. I guess there are people who meant to be with you, but you would never know what would they be until it is  the time. Some people are meant to be your friends, while others only meant to be your acquaintances. There are also several others who meant to be your best friends and others who meant to be your enemy. But there will be, there will always be some people, or more likely someone, who meant to be the object of your longing. Never been close enough, but never too far away.