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Someone Loves You, By: Andrew Cyr

February 9, 2024 by Andrew Cyr

Someone Loves You, By: Andrew Cyr

No one will love me like this; they won’t.
A childhood fire prank left
my right cheek burned.
Mom brushed her hand across
my cheek and spilled compliments
over me.
My eyes sparkled when I laughed.
Dad told me they danced like reindeer
as they carried gifts for children on Christmas Eve.
Like them, he promised a guy would sweep
me off my feet.
He’d be blind to have me.
I graduated college from high school,
and I’d gotten a few offers,
but never any takers.
No one will love me, not like this.
I wrapped my long, red hair around my neck.
I studied my reflection in my bedroom mirror
when I saw a figure checking me out.
Startled, I placed my hand over my chest.
I forgot to close my blinds, and I was in my undergarments.
The guy stood, waving.
Oh, fuck, I thought. I hid behind the curtain.
I inched toward the window.
The man stood there with his arms crossed.
It appeared he wanted me to know someone
was watching me, and that someone was him.
I pushed the window, intending to give the man an earful.
“Not too bad,” the man said, holding a dog on a leash.
“Are you some kind of creep?” I said.
“Depends on who’s asking.” He winked.
I shrugged. “I’m asking.”
“I’m Derek.” He pointed across the street. “I moved in on Monday.”
“I’m Natalia.”
“Pretty name for a gorgeous girl,” Derek said.
“What would you know about gorgeous?” My narrow eyes turned into crinkled slits.
“You’re the definition of gorgeous,” Derek said. “Don’t blame me. Blame the dictionary.”
“But you can’t see my face from there.”
“I see it every day,” Derek said. “Too bad that you don’t.”
I waved my pointer finger at Derek. “My mom put you up to this, didn’t she?”
“Your parents sponsored me in Africa,” Derek said. “The war in Sudan left many of us refugees. My parents died, and I had no one until generous folks like yours funded an outreach for kids like me.”
“I’d write your parents and send and receive letters. I used to hold your picture, wondering what you had on your mind. I wondered what I’d say if I saw you, and now I don’t have to wonder.” I grinned. “I went to college, worked as an engineer, and wanted to give back to communities in America.”
My eyes welled before I felt like reaching out to wipe away tears.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, moving a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’ll meet you at the door.” I threw a hoodie over my shoulders and shoved my feet into a pair of jeans, and I held the rail as I descended the stairs. Mom and Dad stood, smiles etched on their faces, and Mom brushed a tear away.
“You…”
“What do you think?” Mom said. “Derek always wrote back about how pretty you were and that he hoped to meet you someday.”
“I think I’m pretty, and I’ll fall in love again. That’s what I think.” I smiled.
“I won’t burn you,” Derek said. “Oops…”
We cackled to tears.

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