First Love

As I stood on the corner of the street waiting to cross, I was fiddling with my collar and my tie. As I watched the traffic go by, I took another drag on my cigarette. When the traffic came to a halt, I followed the people in front of me and started to walk. It was miserable day. The rain was coming down in buckets, and the temperature was below the forties. Freezing cold rain. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket and made my way towards the cathedral. I was on my way to visit my dear friend Helena, who had recently passed away. Helena was very young, mistress, not even close to her thirties. She wasn’t married, nor had children or a lover either. I rubbed my thumbs against the cross that was in my pocket, and walked across the street. Helena and I met when I was going to the local shoppe. I was buying another pack of cigars, and more ink for my quill pen so I could write more letters to my mother. As I was paying for my things, she too, was shopping but it looked like she needed help. She was very petite, and very celestial indeed. Although, something looked odd compared to the other women in the shoppe. She wasn’t properly dressed. It was almost like she was wearing rags, and shreds. It looked like she was a slave. I made my way across to her, and asked if she needed any help. She seemed startled, but I couldn’t help looking at her. She was absolutely stunning. Helena had deathly pale skin, like a porcelain doll. Her eyes were pure green, like the grass in Ireland, and her lips were pink as a lily. Her hair was black as a raven’s wing and her heart was pure. She was wearing a tiny black dress that was in shreds, and her shoulders were bare. I wanted to offer her my overcoat to her, but she refused. She must have been freezing. After I paid for my things, I left the shoppe. Unfortunately, that was the last time that I have seen Helena.
Folks have said that she was stolen, or that she died in her slumber. When I heard the news, I was devastated. I was so intrigued with her beauty, that I just had to see her again. Fixing and adjusting my tie, I started up towards the huge steel doors of the cathedral. The architecture of the church was identical to a castle. I was dressed in black shoes, black slacks and a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and buttoned. Around my neck I wore a sleek red tie. I didn’t know any of the people who was going to show up at the funeral. Walking in the cathedral, I grabbed Helena’s prayer card and shuffled myself into a pew. The church was gorgeous. The walls were covered in white marble. The floors were solid granite, with matching pews in the color chestnut. Stone columns were at the end of aisle in front of the humongous arc in front of the altar. Rows of candles were all lined up in the same direction. The huge arc had drapes, stained glass windows of Jesus being born were hung on the walls. I was the only one here. The man who was sitting at the organ told me that I only had a couple of minutes to say my goodbyes. I rose up from my seat and I walked my way to the altar in slow strides. I found it strange whenever I got closer to the altar, something was pushing me away. Some force was telling me I wasn’t ready to see Helena. I finally got to the altar, knelt down and blessed myself. Picking my head up and glancing down the long aisle of the church corridor, there she was. A row of candles surrounded her black casket. Helena was laid on top of a wooden table with a burgundy runner that was embroidered with black elegant lace. I knelt beside Helena breaking down into sobs. I already missed her so much. I only had one flashback of her in my mind. The day in the shoppe. The pew in front of her casket was ebony wood with carvings of spirals down the sides of the bench. A red plush cushion held up my knees when I was kneeling. There were silver brass handles on the casket for the men to carry her out of the church the next day. Inside her casket were no memories made. No doll, or anything sentimental from a family member. The casket was empty. If Helena would not have died, I would have been all of her memories. If she was still alive, I would have given everything that I had owned. I would do anything in the world to make Helena happy. Her happiness would be my happiness. I took a glimpse into her casket and I saw her. Tears welled up in my eyes, as I stared at her lifeless body laid on a white cushion. Her head was rested on a white satin pillow holding up her delicate head. I was alone in the church and it felt like I was falling in love with Helena all over again.
I laid my hands on the edge of the casket and peered over to look at her. Helena was laid to rest in a somber gown. Her skin was paler and ice cold to the touch. As I reached over to touch her, her body was hard as stone. Her face looked more sunken in at the surface, nor a single wrinkle or blemish appeared on her countenance. Helena’s makeup was very dark and subtle making her skin glow. She looked eerie but at the same time she looked beautiful. It looked as if she was alive. Her face looked very slender, and her cheekbones looked pointy. Helena’s eyelashes laid perfectly on her face covering those magnificent pale green eyes that I would die to see again. On her eyelids in opec shades of colors, a dark rum color was brushed in the creases of her eyes. The burgundy was then transitioned into black on the corners of her eyes. She was resting in a black gown with a thin red ribbon tied around her waist into a bow above her hip. In her hands, was a bouquet of black and red roses. They were decaying to the touch, but they were still living. Her lovely locks lay upon her shoulders in loose curls, the color of the black of night. My eyes met with her lips. Her lips suffered from dehydration and were cracked. On her feet she wore black ballet slippers, and a tutu textured gown. In an instant, I was falling love. I said my prayers about three times in my head while leaning over her body. I couldn’t move away from her. I didn’t believe in love at first sight. Although, Helena looked sickly in her casket but I could slowly feel myself becoming more attached to her. I leaned over Helena’s body and I began to weep. Not only my heart was broken that a person like Helena was gone, but I felt embarrassed to sob in the church. It felt like I wasn’t a man. I took out the cross that was in my pocket and fiddled with it in my hands. Maybe if I killed myself and took Helena’s place things would be better, I thought to myself. But things are better if I stay. I glanced around the church trying to see if anyone was there to comfort me. No one was there but myself and Helena. I glanced around at the decor in awe around Helena. More roses were around her almost engulfing her. On the top of the altar stood a podium with a bible opened up to a reading waiting to be read. Behind me I could see a black organ on a balcony, with shiny black pipes. More rows of stained glass windows covered the walls. As I came to a close to my prayers, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a bracelet. It had Helena’s name engraved on it, and the words “So long and goodnight”. That was the last thing I said to her before I left the shoppe. I put the bracelet on her wrist.
As I said my last goodbye to Helena I took her hands in mine and I squeezed them. There was nothing to squeeze. There was no pulse. Her hands were as hard as cinder block. Without even knowing it, I found myself squeezing her hands tighter and tighter hoping it would bring her back to life. I knew it wouldn’t work. I lowered myself down and gently kissed her lips with tears flowing down my cheeks. A sense of heartbreak was nearby and I could feel my chest tightening up suffocating me. Helena looked so beautiful even in death, that I couldn’t find it in my heart to bury her. Releasing my grip and pulling back from her, I let go. The temperament that I felt was hard to explain. There was no one else like Helena for me to fall in love with. I sat in the pew and stared at her casket keeping her company. Then, the organ man came in and told me it was time to leave. I shoved the prayer card into my overcoat and walked down the endless aisle of the cathedral.
The very next morning was just like the morning before, cold rainy and gloomy. The organ man had told me that I was chosen to carry Helena out of the church to the hearse. I couldn’t deny the deed, she was all mine. The day I carried her, it was a short day. Everything just went by in a breeze. I felt like I was losing track of time and I was being rushed. I couldn’t even watch the closing of the casket myself, it was unbearable. From what I could remember, there was only a couple of people that showed up to Helena’s funeral. However, none volunteered to carry her out of the chapel because they said they didn’t know her and felt uncomfortable around her. It was just me and the staff of the church. Helena was my first love and all that mattered was that I was going to be carrying her. I grabbed the silver brass handles on the casket and lifted. I held the casket onto my shoulder and I started to walk outside into the pouring rain. When I put her into the hearse, I broke down. I pressed my hands onto the back window and saw the black casket. Whispering and looking in,I said
“So long and goodnight.” I slowly took my hand off the glass, and the car started. And in an instant, the hearse pulled away and I disappeared into the fog away from Helena.