reflections
As a friend of a friend of the family’s, I was closer to her than you would think. Even with our distant relationship, every Friday evening I would bring her and her brothers my homemade ginger spice biscuits. It wasn’t long before I was christened Ginger, which I did not exactly find humorous. I only let the name stick because she seemed to find the whole situation amusing. She was pretty, and she clicked when she was amused. Undaunted by her frigid air, I would sit by her as she went by her scholarly duties. She always had a busy life. Sometimes, she would sit by the fireplace, legs tucked underneath her skirt and hand folded in her lap, reading book, her lips faintly forming the words that reflected in her eyes though the light of the warm fire. I would sit and serenade her, telling whimsical tales of days past and dreams of the future. Funny, she would never admit to her plans for the future - always replying to my inquiries with a monotone voice. “I prefer not to think of such things.” And every Friday evening, I would be shut down and forced to drop the subject. It wasn’t long before we were engaged. I had asked her brothers for her hand, and they readily gave her to me. She was mine now. But not without resistance. Imagine my surprise when, as a reply to my proposal, she said, “I would prefer not to.” Stuttering in unbalanced confusion, I managed to choke out a “Why?” She simply looked through me with those cold, unfeeling eyes, hands folded in her lap, and muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, “I would prefer not to.” In this way, she refused me over and over again, even as I pleaded with her. At that point, I knew that we were engaged but we were not destined to be wed. She would not be moved. She would prefer not to. I watched her walk away from me, a picture of regal beauty, as a lady should be, the image of her eyes burnt forever in my mind. I would never see her again.