What I remember most about that evening took place early in our conversation. I was hot, stuffed into a dark suit. You were cool, flowing in that light dress. I began by mangling some French, contorting it in ways that should never be heard. My aim was not to show off, not at all, but to convince you that I wasn't the nobody I truly was, aiming to give myself the slightest chance in amongst the better-dressed opposition. They say there is no class system in this country but there are families and children brought up with wealth, with power, and they all seemed to be in that banquet hall, all putting on a show.
You said my French accent was very good, very refined. I knew you were merely being polite but it gave me hope and encouragement to forge on. If you had espoused even the slightest hint of derision I would have fled, run back to my hole of solitude with the realisation that I had aimed too high.
But you didn't.
You sung back in your native French, a little too fast, with vocabulary from a much later chapter.
'Lent, s'il vous plaît,' I pleaded.
You looked at me quizzically.
'I think I've been found out,' I said, adding a smile.
I was about to look down at my feet, shy away, do what I always do in awkward conversations, and if I had, I may have lost you. But I didn't. I looked straight into your beckoning blue eyes and noticed your expression change. Your face began to lift and brighten. Your skin became paler, stretched, lovelier. The tips of your lips followed, and slowly you began to smile.
Time ceased.
I wouldn't like to picture how stupid I looked, staring, awestruck, as you gave me your first smile. So many useless thoughts cluttered my mind. I made a pledge, even then, to do everything in my power to make you smile, to be honoured with its eternal presence. No, not eternal, since then I would miss that change, that slow movement which took seconds, the part that I cherished, even then. It was a signal that life was worth living. It was your gift. I wanted that little movement to be eternal. I wanted it all to myself.
My life would not be where it is now if not for that smile. It gave me hope and faith and reason. It was everything.
I look at you now and you are smiling, still smiling, but not because of me. It is some other hand at work, a skilled artisan, an underrated member of society who has made you smile today. Now the world can see your smile. You will wear it forever.
But I will no longer see that change. I will no longer relive the first time we spoke, in that great hall, surrounded by those much more suited to your elegance. I will never again see that transformation, that slow movement, that wondrous change. I will never again see you smile.
© 2012 Ben Safta
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Australia License
