I met Tristan in English class. He was new, and our last names were next to each other, Carter and Calloway, so we sat next to each other. There were a lot of rumors about Tristan, like why he had to transfer schools, and why he had such long hair. Stupid high school rumors, you know, the ones that really make no sense, yet everyone holds onto them like it’s the last breath they’ll ever breathe? Well, I believed these rumors, so I kept my distance. I was successful at doing so until Mrs. Maloney made us pair up with the person sitting next to us and interview one another. They were useless questions like, what your favorite color is, or what your favorite animal is. So, Tristan and I filled in the worksheet accordingly, and never spoke more of it. But, I had started to notice something about him. He had these haunting eyes, they were the prettiest green. Not creepy neon green, but dark pine green. They put my mud colored brown eyes to shame. Whenever he looked at me, I couldn’t help but stare back. They were addictive, and somewhat…calming. I pushed the thought aside, after all this was the new kid who I couldn’t dare be seen with. I would steal a glance every once in a while, but not too long as to scare him. This went on for two marking periods. During the third quarter, he started talking to me. Asking me how my day was going, and asking me how my papers were, and even asking what I had for lunch (that one was a little strange). I would answer politely, but would quickly cut the conversation short. In fear that someone might see me conversing with him. Ii tried to leave many hints that I wasn’t interested, but he kept trying. And you know what? I liked it. It was flattering, and as much as I tried to deny it, I was attracted to him. So finally when he asked, “What, do you not like talking to me or something?”
I answered, “I do like talking to you, but like you don’t like understand my um friends. They like don’t like…like you, so I um like can’t like you either. So I um, I’m like really sorry.” That was me, “like” was half my vocabulary.
He just looked at me for a while, and then finally responded, “OK, well if your friends are the problem, then why don’t we go somewhere outside of school? That way your friends can’t judge you.” I thought about it, and finally responded with a slight nod, and he smiled. At the end of class, he slid a piece of paper onto my desk, which read “Meet me at the park on Friday night. 6pm. Bring a coat, it’s supposed to be cold.” I shoved the paper in my pocket, and left the class, smiling uncontrollably.

On Friday night, I put on my black leggings, my riding boots, and my new North Face. I drove over to the park, and got out. There he stood, with his hands in his pockets, looking finer than ever. I slowly walked over and we just looked at each other for a moment. He really was pretty, and although I wasn’t a fan of long hair on guys, I could see past it. He smiled, and took my hand. We walked around for two hours, and eventually had to stop because riding boots aren’t exactly supportive. So we sat down, on the cold grass and talked until 11pm.. When I got home, I went straight to my room, and flopped onto my bed. I passed out within minutes. Darn you Tristan, I was already struggling enough, now you come in and distract me more. But, he was perfect, and so I forgave him.

Our relationship went on for another five months, and every day was better than the last. I came to know that he had two siblings, a little brother and a little sister, he wanted to go into the army after high school, and he was a true gentleman. I loved everything about him, I still love everything about him. I too opened up to him, told him that I was an only child, and that I really didn’t know what I was going to do after high school. I’m surprised he stayed with me, he was way out of my league. At least intellectually. Not so much popularity. But, he made me realize that I was happier being with him, rather than being with all my “friends”. I started to spend more time with him than anyone else, and I had the best time. At first my friends’ disapproving glances, and rude remarks made me shy away from Tristan, but soon his spell made me immune to the negativity. And after only seven short months, Mr. Carter changed me for the better.

It felt good, being a good person. I was smiling more, I stopped wearing clothes that threatened to cut off my circulation, I stopped hanging out with those who suffocated me, and I started actually eating the apple I took to school in addition to a full lunch. Life was better than ever. All thanks to Tristan. The world brightened up, and I started really analyzing myself. Started rethinking my old habits, and I became a new and improved Brianna. Yes, Brianna, not Bri Bri, she was long gone. I started helping out those in need, and my grades skyrocketed. My mom and dad started treating me like an actually person rather than a basket case, and life was so good. I wish Tristan came sooner. I couldn’t get over how perfect he was. He found out that I didn’t like long hair, and guess what, he cut it. He cut it for me. It seems so simple and pathetic, but it made me feel so loved. There was one thing about him that I found odd, but always pushed aside. Every time we’d part, he would make our “goodbye” a really big deal. He would hug me and look at me in the eye and say goodbye. Never just bye, or bye bye, always goodbye. I figured we all have our idiosyncrasies. Not until later did I realize why he made every goodbye so important.

Tristan and my relationship started to get serious, so serious that we started planning our future together. He told me that he wasn’t going to go into the army anymore, and that he would go to University of Maryland so that he could be near me. I told him that, if I got accepted, I would go there too. We hung out every day, and one time we even convinced our parents into letting us have a sleepover. It felt so right being with him. I loved, and still love him.

One day, we were taking a stroll downtown, and just as I was about to turn left to go home, and he was going to turn right to go home, he took my hand and said those three words, those eight infamous letters: I love you. He loved me. He kissed me and said goodbye. Just as I was about to turn around, I saw this little girl chasing her ball. The ball bounced right out into the street, and the little girl, blindly ran after it. I screamed at her, but she didn’t hear me. A car began to race down the street, and I started to run after her, when Tristan bolted off. He grabbed the girl and pushed her out of the way. He was a hero, but not without paying a price.

The doctors told me that they didn’t think Tristan was going to make it. And by the looks of him, I didn’t think so either. Both his legs were broken, one of his arms had to be amputated, and the docs said he had “some minor brain damage.” I thought he was going to die. Even though I knew his chances were slim, something in my gut told me to stay in that tiny hospital waiting room. Thank goodness I did. The doctor ran out into the room with a huge smile on her face and told me to follow her into his room. I was really nervous. I was scared he wouldn’t be recognizable, or that he would forget who I was or something. Nevertheless I followed the doc into his room. I peeked around the corner, and there he was. He was sleeping, and pretty banged up, but he was alive. And that’s all that matters.

I wasn’t allowed to see Tristan for a few days, due to his fragile condition. When I saw him for the first time, he looked so much better than he did before. I mean, he still looked pretty injured, but at least he was awake. I slowly walked in and waved timidly. He looked at me with a confused face and sort of moved his fingers up then down. I walked closer, hoping that maybe he’d recognize me, or say something. Finally he looked up and smiled. His eyes were sparkling, despite all the horror they must have seen. I went to touch his hand, and when I did he didn’t move. He didn’t react. I touched it again, and nothing. I asked him if he could feel me tapping on his hand and he just looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. He couldn’t feel his hand? So one arm is amputated, and the other is numb? I looked at him again, and I guess tears were in my eyes because he looked at me with this sad look. And he blinked his eyes a couple times. I stayed with him as long as I could, but eventually the nurse told me visiting hours were over, and that I could see him later. I smiled a crooked half smile and left.

Tristan, of all people, had to get hurt. He had such a future. He could’ve been anything he wanted to be. He was the nicest, most genuine person I ever met. He risked his life for a stranger, without even thinking about it! Yet he’s the one who is going to be numb. That little girl probably won’t even remember that day, let alone the person who saved her. I could’ve lost him. In that split second, I could have lost the only thing that made me feel like a human being. The only thing that woke me up enough to show me how great life could be. The only one who managed to break through my thick skull. The only person I am 100% sure I love. I know that sounds super cheesy and cliché, but it’s true. Tristan treated me with respect, and like I was a princess. He never judged me without hearing me out, and he always took my side, even if I was wrong. He always stood by my side, and protected me. He means everything to me, and I almost lost him. I guess that’s why he always made it a necessity to say a heartfelt goodbye, because it might be the last one.

Over the next few weeks, Tristan was thriving. He started talking a little, even though his words were extremely slurred and sometimes inaudible. He started smiling more, and even laughing. The doctor told him that he might be able to walk if he stuck with it. He would be able to walk in no time. And indeed he was. The moment the doctor told him there was hope, that boy was up and moving before the nurses had enough time to strap him down. Every day he would walk a little farther, stand a little longer, or move a little more gracefully. Thank goodness for Tristan’s stubbornness and determination.

One day I wasn’t able to visit him, but he did write me a note the day prior and told me not to read it until the next day. So I opened it and it read,

Dear My Beloved,
Since I won’t be able to see your lovely face today, I just wanted to write you this note via nurse Sharon. She’s kinda being my hand write now. Get it? “Write”? You know cuz I’m writing you? Ok, sorry stupid pun. Anyway, just thought I would let you know that I love you with all my heart, and that the only reason I fought so hard, was so that I wouldn’t have to leave your side. Love you Brianna.
-Tristan

He’s too perfect. Everything about him is the definition of perfection.

Tristan made as full of a recovery as he could, and we now live in a tiny house together. Life is pretty darn good. Although, I could live anywhere, have nothing, and still be happy as long as I was with Tristan. I mean, life isn’t perfect, we still have our problems, but nothing we can’t resolve. And still, to this day, we never part without saying goodbye.