It had been a week since I've last seen Misha Anderson. The memory of what happened that fretful day still fresh in my memory, the guilt eating away at my heart like a quickly growing cancer.
He was rushed to the hospital by ambulance and after quite a few stitches and a blood transplant, he pulled through alright.
I look down at the silver band that I'm using to tie up another pearl pink serviette for our wedding that's at month's end, but my mind is anywhere but here. It's an uninterested job. Why did I had to offer to handle the small preparations myself? I should have hired somebody to set it all up and not just the main event.
The De Vette Mossel Beach Venue will host the reception, the time and date had already been set. The days where beach weddings had been nothing more then a dream, are now something of the past! The venue's literally situated on the beach at Souwesia, between the Klein- and Groot Brak River, near Mossel Bay on the Garden Route. Here you can have your wedding ceremony right on the beach and the reception in the popular De Vette Mossel Restaurant.
We'll ensure the written menu, Friday evening, into the chef's capable hands. Silver, representing the twinkling stars overhead seeing how the ceremony takes place at night and pearl pink, to associate with the immense beauty that lingers beyond the ocean's tide.
When I was a young girl I've tested my hand at art, drawing a picture of my dream cake, an elegant four tier cake. Even back then, at the tender age of seven, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that my wedding would be pearl pink and silver.
As I grew older the dream faded into the back of my memory, almost completely forgotten, but when Kyle asked me for my hand in marriage, that age old dream resurfaced.
I'm a tad sad to say the least, knowing that neither of my parents would be participating my perfectly planned evening, it's not that they don't like Kyle per say, it's just that they don't see him and Misha in an equal light. Through their eyes Misha Anderson will always be the better choice for me.
At the beginning they might have had trouble accepting it, seeing how a student slash teacher relationship is first and foremost against the law and secondly, unacceptable (at the time) to my parents. It took them some time to come to terms with it and I can't really blame them for not wanting to come to my wedding seeing how Misha won't be standing at the altar; waiting for his bride to waltz into his open arms and take his breath away and it pains me to say that, that someone won't be me.
The memory nibbles at my mind again, making me almost sure that my out of control behavior scared him away completely, so what am I to loose by sinking my teeth into the second best choice at hand. Love is blind after all and eventually I believe that I could return Kyle's feelings by 99%. Alas, the other one percent would always belong to him and as long as my affection glows so strongly for another; I won't be able to return even a portion of this with fondness. That time's not upon me, not by a far run.
I throw the table decoration that I'm busy fixing up, frustratedly down on the table. Situate my elbows on my knees and place my face in my open hands. I wish that I could call him and check up on him, I need to know if he's doing fine. I know that he said some things out of anger that needed not to be said but so did I act out of rage. If only I hadn't deleted his number years ago.
An idea suddenly flashes brightly, as I pull my phone closer and add as much information about Margo as I know about and end of by pressing down on the search icon. I picked up a pen from the table and scribble the address down on the palm of my hand. If Misha isn't there then maybe she can tell me where I could find him. I really need to see him, I have to apologize for what I've done. As long as this guilt's eating me up, I won't be able to focus on the wedding preparations that still needs attention.
On my way out of the house I grab my keys, pull the front door close and skipped towards my car, as soon as the seat belt clicked into place I was already driving of into the blue. A canopy of trees; in season on either side of the street, blews into view. With our house only a block away, I came to a stop as a red light ordered me to do so. When the robot indicates that it's safe to continue on my journey by turning green, I signal to the drivers behind me before making a left turn.
I punch the address into the GPS-locater and followed the robotic voice's instructions. Eventually pulling the car to a halt in front of a Victorian style two story house as my GPS informs me that I've reached my destination.
I made my way up the footpath, inhaled deeply and composed myself before pressing down on a small red doorbell. Just as I'm about to push it for a second time, I pull my finger away as I heard shuffling coming from behind the door. As the wooden barrier vanish, Misha himself came into view. He doesn't seem pleased to see me, not giving me much thought he begin to close the door between us, but I quickly put my foot in the door's path. "Please Misha, don't do this? Hate me if you must, but at least give me a moment to say how sorry I am," I choked out.
The door shot open as he indicates for me to enter. I followed close on his heals as he point me towards a chair. I sit down and look up at him. His arm bandaged and up in a sling, probably to ease the pain. My heart sunk into the soles of my feet, as I recall how I'm the reason behind his pain.
I look down at my feet, saying: "Let me begin by apologizing, I was completely out of line. My behavior was entirely childish and cavemen-like. I'm truly, deeply sorry for my unacceptable actions," through it all he didn't say a word. I wish that he would at least acknowledge me.
As much as I want to give him a piece of my mind for ignoring me so abruptly I say as I stand up, hoping that it would lighten up the mood. "Here I am with a sincere apologia while you give me the cold shoulder like I'm a doll at the wax museum!" A small snicker cross his lips, I inch closer and stand abreast from him.
This action makes him heave in a deep shivering breath, yet still he doesn't stand up or look at me directly. I squad down so that we could see eye to eye. This doesn't work seeing how he still stares elsewhere. I hoop my arms around his neck, instantly pulling his attention towards me. Looking him straight in the eye, I ask forgiveness for a second time. I know that all of these apologies that I'm spurting isn't going to turn back time or stop his arm from throbbing, but at least it would make my heart lighter.