To My Dear Yohan by Yumi

This story is part of the Make it Bitter or Make it Better Writing Challenge, where we invited writers to explore the storytelling possibilities of a simple situation. We gave authors free reign to interpret the prompt as they see fit, provided that they give their story a clear ending.

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To My Dear Yohan

It was March, when I met her on Saturday night at church, apparently she was one of the seniors, a person who’s been serving the organization before me, new generation. I talked to her and it all clicked, I just happened to get the courage to talk to her then all of the sudden we got comfortable. Talking to her felt like having a big sister I never had, reliable, caring- well sometimes she scolds me. We sang together for God, listened to God’s words, ate food after sometimes, we all did it together in silence. I always hated silence as sometimes i think of it as an awkward noise between people but somehow with her I grew fond of that silence. 

Before I knew it I began thinking more of her frequently, having her in my music imaginations, silence daydreaming, even in dreams. 

Soft music “Chemtrails Over the Country Club” by Lana Del Rey plays against my headset as I go to school. At first, having the thought of her being my older sister then imagining how it would feel like if I had a dorm with her? Maybe I get to know her more, an organized and quiet place, that was such a nice thought to think. Then dreams began me and her smiling at something so disoriented that i before i actually get a clear look-

“RINGG!!”

I got startled awake by my very own early bird alarm in my phone- 3AM

What’s worse is that i didn’t seem to hate every scenario that appeared in my head

It felt so wrong, my hands trembling and my heart thumping at such an idea as I defy it as it's wrong in all aspects, to my religion, to my family and to.. Myself? I questioned sexuality. I've read girl’s love books, novels, even listened to podcasts, watched a series, and movies. I even observed my friends and cousins who are attracted and together with the same gender.

I never saw myself in any of that.

Then I questioned myself- why? Maybe I saw myself in her? Kind, caring, reliable, people pleaser, likes purple, cat person, likes spicy food- like really spicy that we put much chili oil condiments in a tiny, loving that heat in our tongue and burn in our throat, and putting other people first before her but I'm not that kind nor that soft spoken or that very polite as I sometimes accidentally cross people’s boundaries without knowing. 

I tried to ignore the feeling and defy it all, find reasons, we rarely talk, don't have the same humor, no common ground, and she was such a mystery I don't even know her name properly or anything at all. She was not my type too, i like men, tall, broad shoulders, and a total golden retriever. I could never imagine myself declining or defying what God gave me, me being a woman and im proud to be one.

I found myself saving a photo of the two of us smiling. 

Holding it all to myself might make my heart explode as I wrote it all on how I felt about her in my phone, 36 pages. It's fine this way, her not knowing anything, just all of it to myself and taking it to the grave. I have always been so flimsy to let people go through my phone- I had nothing to hide, except for her. 

One day, I gave her my phone, letting her read the music notes. I went to the bathroom. The next thing I saw, I found her scrolling, there weren’t pictures, so it wasn’t my facebook nor my instagram, it was my notes, my letter for her, she’s reading them. 

I didn't stop her, didn't speak a word as I let her, all 12 pages, all 6000 words on how I felt about her, how I cried for her when she got upset and left our choir temporarily, how I looked at online shops for gift ideas, how I questioned my sexuality. how she spoke softly, how she told me to get well whenever i got sick, how we greeted each other good mornings and goodnights whenever we got to chat in messenger, how she uses those cute GIFs,  how she hits people playfully as we laugh.

All her words, gestures, actions in a year, only saturday and sundays each week, all 104 days in 12 months. 

I knew she always read fast, analyzed words fast, it was also our break time too to buy water and food long enough for everything but it felt like the time slowed down for the both of us or maybe just for her to read everything.

Her dark brown eyes met my dark raven eyes, I couldn't read a thought on her, then we were called for rehearsal, we sang together again. After our rehearsal, we all went outside saying our goodbyes to each other, my eyes land on her again, i opened my mouth-

“HONK!!”

It was my brother, he always drives me to church and picks me up, my gaze turned to her again before getting to the car, maybe i could talk to her on messenger, nope, bad idea, tomorrow then. My hands tremble against my phone waiting for a text or call. I've talked to every person on my phone that night but never once to her, I didn’t sleep that night. The next morning, I wore the new navy blue dress I bought. I purposely went late. I wanted to talk to her after our service. When I arrived at the church, they were already singing the entrance. 

My eyes fell upon the crowd, she’s not here.

Maybe she’s late, woke up late, I’ll wait

The church was done, she’s not here

Maybe she’s busy, I’ll wait

Saturday night rehearsal, she’s not here

Maybe she got buried in paperworks, I’ll wait

Sunday came, and then another

She never came

It was another Saturday night, when the president of our choir explained why she has not been attending. She changed organization, the night ones since we are assigned in morning Sunday schedules. You see, she’s a very kind person, she would never tell people her feelings how she felt towards this one and that one but I knew she felt uncomfortable reading that letter. I left quickly, tears stinging, it was my fault, why does she have to be the one to adjust- it should have been me right? She was the one who felt uncomfortable yet the one who took a step back for the both of us.

Maybe if I wasn’t reckless, it wouldn’t turn out like this

Maybe if I wasn’t such a delusional, crazy teenager, it wouldn’t turn out like this.

I miss the old times, having the silence with her.

If I could turn back time, I wish I didn't write them, letting all of them burst in my heart.

If I could make a deal with God, I wish I was a man.

Tears poured over my face from my eyes quietly, opened my messenger and went to our conversation, scrolling endlessly reading her every goodmorning’s, goodnight’s, get well, and tiny reminder texts as I draped the blanket all over me and fell  asleep. 

I woke up, felt my body heavy against the deep fluffy cushion beneath me. I didn’t feel like going to church that day, she would hate this right? Not feeling well to go to church, maybe she’ll understand. Despite everything going on in my head, the world still spins, I drag my body, put on my old navy blue dress, and go to church to serve God. 

Silence ringing painfully against my ears, the spot beside me felt cold. 

Pen in my hand, trembling. I wrote on paper this time. 

“To My Dear Yohan”

“It's been 2 years, I wonder how you are now. It always keeps me at night how you really felt reading that note. All those 12 pages, 6,719 words, fell upon your gaze, reading them silently. If you were to read this letter as i hoped it would fall upon your gazes again, so if you were to read this letter, I hope we get to talk again, it doesn’t have to be about the letter, we can talk anything you want to talk about, I’ll be in the place where we met, at the side of the altar where we always sing together for God. I’ll wait. I miss accompanying the silence with you.”

“Yours sincerely, 

Yumi”

In Saturday night rehearsal, I put my ear against the speaker of my phone, I listened to her soft voice as she sang our voicings in alto, i never blended with her well for she has her soft low alto voice while i have solid, low, sometimes off-key voice, but her voice still beautiful against my ears as the mouthed each syllable, my hand gesture each notes that goes low, rumble voice or that soft, almost whisper like or goes high, falsetto that you pinch in your throat and the one that makes your diaphragm shrink.

The next day, I didn’t serve that morning, I didn’t feel like it, stayed on my bed till 11AM before dragging my feet and made up an excuse to my choir and texted “Sorry, I woke up late” even when I woke up at 5AM oops sorry. I took a bath to wake up and drowned myself to work, study, clean the house, even bathe the cats. 

It was 5PM when I was all washed up, cologned, fixed my hair up and with casual clothes as I went to church, to see if she’s happy with other organizations who are serving that night. I went to the left side of the church when I saw her to the very place- spot the first time we talked. They stood up to sing the entrance song as she sang- her voice is so soft you wouldn’t hear it in the mic especially when you're also singing with other voice classification, but I can tell very well.

She was happy since her friends are in that organization.

Painful but it makes her happy right?

I quietly left the church before the gospel even began.

“Goodbye Yohan”

I said as I deleted all 12 pages, 6,719 words, fell upon your gaze once and never looked at it again.

The End

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