September 2008
Boston, MA, USA

For an entire year, I've kept my promise. Platonic friendship. I've pledged to get to know her according to the rules of her faith, like always socializing in public or with friends so that we don't give into temptation. Not staying alone for too long at once. Brief phone calls to chat. That sort of thing.

I haven't broken the protocol once because there's too much at stake. Something tells me I might have only one shot at getting this right.

We promised to make a decision about courtship before we split up for summer break. So I've invited her to spend the day with me in Boston.

For months I've agonized over the fine detail of how, when, and where I would propose to court her. All this is new to me, after all. So I deep-dived into the world of traditional courtship online. When I raised the subject casually in order to get her view, Sylvia said she didn't want a big fuss.

Definitely not a fancy ring or anything.

That makes sense because gaudy jewelry distracts her. Sylvia often toys with rings, taking them off and on, twisting them, and playing with them. Placing them on different fingers, even if they don't fit. She'd probably lose it by mistake.

So I asked her what her dream proposal might be.

"A memorable moment," Sylvia replied, "one that I'd treasure forever."

"Like what, for example?"

"It doesn't have to be monumental." She cupped her chin, deep in thought. "I don't need flowers, chocolates, and carriage rides. More like a private, special moment between me and the man I love."

Damn, I wanted to propose to her right then and there.

But I didn't think the moment was special enough.

Since that day I've been scouring for suitable opportunities worthy of asking Sylvia to allow me to court her. But I've always come up empty. Either it's too public, which I know she'd hate, or it's too mundane. Or those few times we have been almost on our own and it's special, she's enjoying herself so much that I don't want to ruin the moment.

Now it's come to me. Without any planning. Without any hesitation. Though I have no idea if she'll agree.

Sylvia has decided to visit me at the MIT campus. Her idea, not mine. She says that it makes up for all those times I've met her at Holy Cross.

Dressed in the only suit I own, reserved for important interviews and special dates, I meet her at the Park Street station. I've done everything I can to impress her. A fresh buzz cut, trimmed by my own hand. Black shoes polished to a mirror shine. Freshly showered and shaved. Poverty doesn't keep me from making an effort—it simply limits the possibilities.

When Sylvia alights from the subway, my heart swells with pride. Sweet and cute, she has a little bounce in her step that tells me she's super happy today. Not to mention that shy smile and her dreamy gaze.

She's a bundle of contradictions. There's a tender warmth in her hazel eyes but a harshness in her pronounced widow's peak, her dark waves pulled back into a ponytail. Analytical, close-set hooded eyes stare keenly at whatever captures her attention. Her high forehead contrasts with a gently rounded chin. Despite her darker features, her face is several shades lighter than my own tanned skin.

When we touch, it's like ivory meets bronze.

Though Sylvia stands over a foot shorter than me, she's got a long torso and broad shoulders to support the most beautiful feminine curves I've ever seen. But she makes up for the added length with stubby legs that shorten her stride, forcing her to take extra quick steps to compensate.

To complete the almost angelic Gothic vibe, she's chosen a dark purple velvet dress that hangs demurely to her knees, dark opaque tights, and laced faux-leather black ankle boots with a modest heel.

Sylvia captivates me every time we meet like it's the first time.

Racing toward me, she wraps me in a warm embrace. "Hi, Ian!"

"Hello, my muse." When I lift her up a couple of inches off the ground, she gives a happy squeak. "Hope the bus trip wasn't too stressful?"

"Two hours isn't that bad," she says in a cheerful tone. "Besides, who needs huge parties with strangers when I can spend the day with you?"

The way she gazes up at me, full of trust and innocence, melts my heart. I draw her close in a silent promise to protect her from the whole world. And she sinks into my embrace.

"I was thinking we could take a stroll through the Public Garden and discuss our story ideas," I suggest while we exit the station.

"Heck yes! Sir Ian and Revna for the win."

"And yours as well." My heart fills with happiness. "While we discuss, we can take a tour of the MIT campus—"

"Could we please stop at the bookstore?" she asks with this little bounce whenever she gets super excited. "I'm dying to find a new book."

I chuckle. "Is it really a campus tour if we don't?"

She gives an excited little squeak.

Whenever Sylvia's this happy, her smile illuminates her from the inside out, making my heart expand until it's fit to burst.

"We could go around one of the museums afterwards," I say. "The Museum of Fine Arts, perhaps? Or we could try the John F. Kennedy—"

"What about the Museum of Science?" she suggests with a twinkle in her eyes. "I've always wanted to go but never got the chance."

"Are you certain?" Part of me wonders if Sylvia's saying that to make me happy. "I thought you disliked math and science."

"In class," she says. "But they have this new exhibit that I have to see!"

Even though it happened by mistake the first time, now I say it because it makes her happy. "As you wish."

Cue the broad smile. "You know where that comes from, right?"

"Darth Vader?"

"Yeah, but that's not who I mean." She gives me a playful tap with a look of utter incredulity. "Westley in The Princess Bride."

"The who with the what?"

"You call yourself a sci-fi fantasy nerd and you've never seen it?" She gapes. "We'll have to change that next time it's movie night."

With a chuckle, I extend the crook of my arm, and Sylvia gladly takes it.

Sure, many people might not consider the Museum of Science to be the most romantic of spots. But we enjoy learning how the world works beyond our own fields of interest. Besides, I love seeing her eyes light up when something sparks her enthusiasm.

Like right now at the Robot Park.

"Gosh, it's like a round little K-9," she exclaims, gazing at the device with an expression of pure wonder.

The device resembles one of those robotic vacuum cleaners with a bracket and a U-shaped head. Of course, she's referring to the robotic dog from Doctor Who, and I might have fallen in love with her just a little bit more.

If that's even possible.

A brief glance at the exhibit tells me all I need to know. Visitors use a tangible language to create simple computer programs for the robot using wooden blocks shaped like puzzle pieces. Each one gives a command, such as forward, reverse, wait, or whistle.

The museum encourages us to make our own sequences, using a handful of around thirty different blocks.

If there's one thing I was born to do, it's analyzing patterns and figuring out how systems work. Hell, I should have learned something by my second year of college, right?

But that's not Sylvia's shtick. She's a dreamer. That glazed expression tells me she's lost in her own inner world or fascinated by the human ingenuity that goes into creating such a device.

Sylvia will always remain a mystery to me in some ways. But I recognize that expression all too well. She's conjured some kind of cute little story in her mind's eye. If only she would share it with me so that I can take part.

Perhaps one day.

The robot stops because the short sequence is complete. And it jolts Sylvia from her deep reverie.

"Aww," she says, as though she wishes he could continue.

As you wish...

Without a moment's hesitation, I saunter toward the programming area. Find the start block in an instant. String together a series of commands. I don't need to think. Learning these kinds of things happens almost unconsciously.

No idea how it comes to me so easily, I simply do it. Extremely well. And this simple design is child's play.

Besides, Sylvia inspires me.

Click, click, click, click-click, click-click, click-click-click.

The robot obeys at the press of a button, moving with precise, deliberate steps away from me until the 'round little K-9' stands right in front of Sylvia. He turns in a circle like he's dancing with happiness.

Then come three beeps with a cadence and rhythm that resembles a heartfelt sentiment. One that I haven't had the courage to tell her yet.

So, I'm saying it in code.

A gasp escapes her lips before Sylvia clasps her hands against her chest. She rushes toward me and wraps me in her arms. Bending down, I kiss her crown and hold her tight, hoping that she's understood.

"How did you do that so fast?" asks Sylvia, almost breathless. "You stacked them together like Data with those chips on that one episode of Star Trek."

"When they're all drunk?" I ask with the ghost of a smile.

"Yes!"

I chuckle but don't respond.

It's better that way. Any truthful answer would make me sound like the most arrogant jerk on the planet. No one needs to hear: They don't give a full financial aid package to any old orphan at MIT. Besides, it's great she finds me as mysterious and enigmatic as I find her.

"How did you know the right sequence to make it say I love you?" she asks.

My heart stutters.

Until now, I've always thought that a woman taking your breath away is a foolish cliché, a metaphor for sexual attraction that has lost all meaning. With those words, she makes it undoubtedly clear to me how compatible we are. In every way that truly matters.

It takes my brain a few seconds to reboot itself.

Of course that's what I meant.

But I thought I would be conveying my affection and happiness in a language only I could understand. By now I should know better. Sylvia assimilates languages as easily as I can deconstruct any system, even ones that don't use words, it seems.

Though I'm not sure I believe in any supernatural entity or even the concept of a soul, that one moment makes me question everything. Makes me wonder if the metaphysical could actually exist. If it does, are Sylvia and I like two wooden puzzle pieces, destined to connect in an eternally long program?

"You heard it?" I ask, dipping down closer to her lips.

"Yes..."

We're so close now. One more inch, and our lips will touch.

When we kiss, for the first time since that fateful night three months ago, it's like fireworks and magic all over again. But stronger! My heart swells as though it wants to encompass the entire world or at least protect both of us from all the wrong within it. It's a bubble that surrounds us, squeezing tight.

Never letting go.

And I don't believe it can.

"Not many people would have understood," I whisper, tucking a stray lock behind her ear.

"They wouldn't?"

I shake my head, mostly because I'm still speechless.

"But it was crystal clear!" she insists with this cute little frown, as though she suspects I'm merely trying to flatter her.

Little does Sylvia know how precious she is: her unique combination of keen intelligence, a feisty spirit, and a beautiful heart.

My, how I love her!

"That's because you're bright and you see beyond what your immediate senses perceive." I plant another gentle kiss on her cheek. "That's rare."

Sylvia takes both my hands in hers and says, "I love you, Ian. We're so lucky God brought us together."

That's when it strikes me. That's when I know. In my chaotic mind, where a thousand thoughts whirl in a thousand directions at once? Right now there is only one thought. One wish. One hope.

If now's not the time, it'll never be right.

Taking her hand in mine, I get down on one knee. Without a ring because I have no choice. In addition to jewelry not being her thing, my campus job provides me with enough funds for books and twenty bucks a week.

Once I graduate, that will change. But I don't buy things until I've saved the money in advance.

"We still have three years until graduation," I say with my full conviction. "but in the meantime, I want to commit to you fully, as your faith commands, in the sure knowledge that one day I will ask you to be my wife."

A small gasp escapes her before Sylvia looks around, astonished. We're all alone like she would have wanted.

Instead of a ring, I tuck a miniature Rubik's cube keychain into her palm, the one that dropped from her backpack on our blind date in the club. The one she told me to keep so that I'd remember her. Heh! As though I could forget. It's the one I always carry with me. Now I'm presenting it to her as a symbolic promise of my honor and loyalty to her, clearer than any ring.

Closing her fingers around it, I dare to meet her hazel eyes.

"Sylvia Evangeline O'Shea, will you allow me to court you?"

Tears well up in her eyes. And I fear the worst.

Oh, damn! What have I done?

Until Sylvia presses the little Rubik's cube to her heart. "Yes, Ian! With all my heart, yes!"

"Yes?" I breathe.

What is happening right now? Why is she crying?

"Yes!" She wipes away her silent tears. "We'll have to inform my grandmother first, but she'll be happy as long as I am."

Maybe the crying must be some sort of—pressure valve? When her emotions get too much, good or bad, they explode into tears?

That's when reality hits me. Despite all of her convictions never to date—never to let anyone court her—she's chosen me!

Oh, my God! She meant it. She said YES!

After sweeping Sylvia into my arms, we kiss so deeply that some people who want to see the Robot Park exhibit turn around and leave us in peace.

"Sorry, my muse." I flush crimson. "I couldn't resist."

"Neither could I," she says, breathless, "but we should stop now."

I nod and kiss on her cheek before resting my forehead against hers.

Tracing her nose with mine, I plant a gentle kiss upon the tip. That simple gesture makes her chuckle, which makes my heart burst with pride.

I love making Sylvia happy.

"This is exactly what I meant by a precious memory. I'm so glad you didn't spend tons of money on some showy crap in front of a bunch of people. You shared a moment with me, one that I'll treasure forever."

After another gentle kiss on her cheek, I whisper in her ear, "Wanna see some dinosaurs?"

"Heck yes!" she exclaims, taking my hand and leading me forward. "I didn't think this day could get any better. And now you add dinosaurs?"

A laugh burbles from deep inside my heart, where Sylvia will reside forever.

After we spend all day at the museum and have a small meal at a café, I travel with her all the way to the bus stop.

It's nighttime. Can't be too careful.

Though my weedy frame might scratch and claw for every gram of muscle, I stand taller than everyone else in a crowd. No one screws around with a guy like me, and I want my muse to arrive home safely.

"Good night, my muse," I say before holding her hand and kissing the air above her knuckles. The first time I did it, Sylvia squeaked with delight, so now it's our little ritual. When you can't French kiss every five seconds, you have to get creative. "Have a safe trip home and please call me when you get back."

It takes all my strength to leave because more than ever I want to take her with me back to my dorm room. To show her the depth of my love and affection. To watch over her and keep her safe.

But I will stay true to my promise to her and her grandma no matter what.

I'll wait until marriage before we do anything but kiss.

___

Word count: 2,740
Total word count: 7,882/40,000