Rhythm (8 page)

“They don’t have one. Just order anything
that you want, everything that you want.” His cheerful tone is
amusing.

“As in anything and everything?”

“Uh-huh,” he confirms.

I think of the foods I’m craving for, and
then I place my orders.

“How about you, sir?”

“The usual.”

“You ordered bacon, chocolate chip pancake,
mashed potato, French toast, hot tea, and the usual. Orders
complete?”

“Yes, thank you,” Grant says to the staff
then turns to look at me. “You’ll eat all of those?”

I shrug and nod.

“Where do you put all the food you’re eating?
You’re barely gaining weight with all the food you put into your
system.”

When I don’t answer, he continues, “I realize
just now that this is the first time we’ll eat breakfast together,
and I am amused by your love for breakfast.”

“That’s the only reason my mornings are
livable.”

He can’t help it, so he laughs. “You are
bizarrely entertaining.”

“I’m glad you find my appetite
entertaining.”

“And you’re weird in a good way.”

“That I am. Thank you very much.” We giggle
together.

The orders arrive after a few minutes. His
usual
is a burger that seems like good for three pax, a
taco, and an orange juice. We eat silently, enjoying our own
breakfasts.

“This diner is fantastic. They have all my
favorites.”

“I agree. That’s what I love about this.”

“How come you only bring me here just
now?”

“I reserved it for our 10th month, but you
know what happened, so I chose your birthday to introduce to you
this diner.”

“Really? I may have find it myself, you
know.”

“No you won’t.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you rarely go out.”

I think for a while and realize he’s right.
“Right.”

“Is my birthday girl happy with her birthday
breakfast?”

“Very
.
Thank you so much, Grant.”

“It is my pleasure to make you happy.
Always.”

---

“Oh. My. Freaking. Word.”
OMFW!
There’s a dozen of
dozen
different flowers and a dozen of
notes, a note on each kind of flower.

I

Grant Tyler Peterson

Love

You

So

Much

Rhythm Isabelle Pratte

Happy

1st

Year

Anniversary

Love

Simple words yet so meaningful. I think I
might cry. No. I am crying.

The gesture. The effort. The love I feel.
It’s overwhelming.

Oh, my freaking word! Why am I crying?

“Hey, Rip,” Grant says, and I turn to look at
him. He sees my tears, and he walks towards me to wipe it. “Happy
1st year. Happy 12th month. Happy 52nd week. Happy 365th day. Happy
8,760th hour. Happy birthday to us.”

“There are how many hours in a year?” I ask.
“Happy anniversary, love. Thank you for everything.”

“You like it?”

“I super love it!” Understatement.

“You ready for my surprise?”

“This isn’t your surprise,” I state, not
ask.

“Well?”

“Let’s uncover your surprise then,” I say,
elated.

---

I know this way. This is the way to a place
that is quite familiar to me and special. We celebrated our 1st
week there, which I considered a place great for celebrating our
10th year. Now, we’re going back.

The cliff is not yet commercialized which is
great, by the way. I wonder what is Grant’s surprise, and I am
getting giddy each second we come close to our destination.

I check Grant and notice that he is quiet,
deep in his thought.

“What are you thinking?” I ask him.

“Nothing,” he answers quickly as if he’s
anticipating my question.

I leave him alone with his thoughts, and I
indulge in my own.

When we arrive, he meets me at the
passenger’s side of the truck. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I will blindfold you that’s why I need to
guide you.”

“And?”

“You may hold my hand, or my shirt, or
wherever you’re comfortable so that I can guide you.”

He’s setting me up, is he? Hmm, I don’t think
so. Maybe he wants to really surprise me.

“Okay, I’ll hold the back of your shirt. You
walk first. I’ll be behind you.”

“Great. Shall we?”

I nod then he blindfolds me.

“You can hold the back of my shirt now.”

I blindly find his shirt and hold the bottom
part of it.

“I’m about to walk. Follow me. Okay?”

“Mmmkay.”

He starts to walk, and I follow.

I stumble most of the time that I already
want to hold his hand instead of his shirt.

He patiently guides me, telling me when to
step higher, if there’s a rock, or just warns me if the road we’re
about to walk on is steep.

After the adventure we’ve been through, he
finally announces, “We’re here.”

I’m ready to remove my blindfold when he
adds, “Don’t remove it yet. You can do so when I say, “Happy
anniversary.” Not this one, the next one.”

I acquiesce and wait a little bit more.

“Happy anniversary.”

I remove my blindfold and adjust my eyes to
the light.

Whoa!
It took me a moment to close my
gaping mouth and blink my bulging eyes. The view in front of me is
. . . intoxicating.

Grant is standing with a dozen of white
balloons, behind him is the setting sun, beside him is a table set
for two, and we are on the freaking cliff!

“Wow, Grant. I . . . am . . .
speechless.”

“You’re welcome, Rip.” He chuckles. “You’re
crying. Again.”

“That’s because this is
cryable
. How
did you set this up? We’ll have our dinner here?”

“I know that you would enjoy dinner here more
than in a fancy restaurant, but I want to take you to one so I
compromised—a pseudo fancy restaurant on a cliff.”

“How about the food?”

“Everything’s set, so don’t ya worry a bit.
Sit back, relax, and enjoy.” He beams.

He ties the balloons on our chairs, six
each.

“What are the balloons for?”

“For later.”

“What later?”

“I’ll tell you before we end our
celebration.”

“Okay. You’re so prepared, aren’t you?”

“Not quite.”

“Yeah, right,” I counter.

“Let’s eat, shall we, mademoiselle?”

“Yes, we shall. I’m famished.”

“Uh, uh. This is a fancy dinner. Etiquette,
please?”

I act as if I’m crumpling something then
throw it in the trash. “There’s your etiquette. Now, let’s
eat.”

He bursts out laughing.

“The food is great. Did you cook it?”

He nods.

“Really? I didn’t know you cook this good.
You could have your own restaurant someday, you know.”

He laughs. “Got ya. I bought our food,
gullible.”

“That’s the worst name you’ve ever called
me.” I fake-mope.

“I’m teasing you. Chill.” He titters.

I join him.

“Happy anniversary, my love. Thank you for
everything you’ve done for me on this special day.” I hand him
something. “Open it.”

“What’s this?”

“My surprise, I guess?” I smile. “I hope
you’ll like it.”

“I love anything that has to do with you,” he
says then opens my gift.

His reaction is unexpected. He is teary-eyed
while scanning the photo album slash scrapbook that I prepared for
him. We are the only couple I know who aren’t fond of taking
pictures, so the few photos we have together, I treasure.

He scans dreamily and happily, looking at the
memories that were captured. Most are stolen shots taken by Cale
who is into photography.

I love stolen shots. It is the most honest
expression of what we truly feel or who we truly are. We don’t have
to pretend feeling something or being someone that we are not. When
you know there’s a camera that will capture a particular moment,
you’ll be asked to smile before the photographer snaps a shot—and
that’s what most pictures will show, a smiling you even if you
don’t feel like smiling because really, who likes
ughtos
—or
ugly photos? No one, but me. I prefer ughtos than
pretos
—or
pretentious photos.

He stops, looking at a certain picture—which
is my favorite—and looks at it longer than the others.

In the photo, we are mid-walking. I still
remember that day.

Grant was waiting for me to pass by my locker
to ask a rubbish question, which for him is utterly important.

He asked if I knew all along that the ‘blue
moon’ is not really blue. I said, “Of course,” then I laughed. Who
wouldn’t? I would understand if he was four years old, but he was a
decade (and more) older than a four-year old. He shook his head
then laughed with me. That’s when Cale took our photo.

Grant’s taller to me by a short, pun
intended, length of 14 inches. So in the photo, I’m looking up at
him and he’s looking down at me. We’re both laughing, not touching,
and apart by a few inches. The photo says it all: We love each
other beyond words could ever explain.

Did I mention that I love stolen shots?

“Thank you for this, Rhy. I am glad to have a
reminder of how genuine our love for each other is.”

“You’re welcome, love.” I am getting used by
this—calling him love and not Grant, and I love it.

“I want to end this day by playing a game
we’ll call Gratitude Game or simply GraGam or G2 or whatever name
you want to call it, really,” Grant declares.

“Oh, yeah? Tell me more about it.”

“Each of us will tell something we are
grateful for. After each grateful thing, we will release a balloon.
The sentence should be preluded by the words I, am, and grateful in
that exact order, and tell the reason you are grateful for it.
Originally, you may say anything under the sun what you are
grateful for, but for the sake of our celebration, we’ll stick to
our theme: our relationship, us, Rhy, Grant, anything to do with
what we are celebrating today. Questions?”

“Originally, you say? Where did it
originate?”

“From you.”

“I didn’t invent that kind of game.”

“I mean, I thought of that game because of
you. You are my thank you girl, remember?” He wiggles his
eyebrows.

“Oh.” I remember. “Any more rules?”

“We’ll tell six each to complete twelve
things we are grateful for.”

“Why twelve?”

“To represent the months we’ve been
together.”

“Okay.”

“Ready?”

“Yes. You go first.”

“Okay. I am grateful for you, Rhythm Isabelle
Pratte, because you are simply one of the best blessings I have.”
He releases his first balloon.

“I am grateful for this cliff. This place is
a witness to our special moments. Like today.” I release mine.

“I am grateful for the opportunity to attend
college other than in my hometown. College life where you are is .
. . amazing.” He grins.

“I am grateful for my parents, even in their
absence, because they somehow led me to experience the love I never
imagine I would have.”

“I am grateful for your rule about the
physical thing because I come to appreciate more the value of
it.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Your turn.”

“I am grateful that you accepted my second
rule because I want a man who would want me, whole of me, not just
my body,” I talk like someone who has a body to die for. Gah.

“I am grateful for the wisdom you have been
entrusted with by the
Almighty
because I don’t have to deal
with tantrums.”

“I am grateful that you’ve pursued me for a
year because if you stopped on the 11th month, we’re doomed.” We
laugh.

“I am grateful that you gave me the one-week
chance because we’re on our 1st year now.”

“I am grateful for your persistence and
patience because we’re celebrating now the fruit of it.”

“I am grateful to God that He has given me
the opportunity to love and be loved by you, Rip, because I
discovered that I am capable of the things that I’ve done for and
with you, and that I am made aware as early as now of who I will
spend the rest of my life with.”

“I am grateful to God that He used you as an
instrument to show me what it is like to feel and be loved because
since Papa, Mama and Ben, I never expected that someone will love
me like this. Never.”

I sob as I release the last balloon we have,
my last balloon.

We absorb the moment before I comment, “I
love Gratitude Game. We’ll do this again, yes?”

“Anytime.”

“Love, look!” I point to the moon, which is
in full mode right now. Full moon is another thing I love among
God’s beautiful creation. “I am in love with the moon,” I
declare.

“You’re mine. Let the moon have someone who’s
available.”

“What did I tell you about jealousy?”

“Geez, I’m kidding.”

I smile and say, “Me, too.”

“Me thr—”

“You three then me four then who’ll gonna
win? Me. The end.”

He laughs then shouts at the top of his
lungs, “I LOVE YOU, RIP!!!!”

I counter a whispered, “I love you, too,”
just to tease him.

This is indeed a
happy
anniversary.

Rhythm

Grant never fails to surprise me even with
his simple gestures. I can’t help but feel so much love. In fact, I
can confidently say that he has covered the years that I felt
alone, unloved, and uncared for. My love tank is so full that I
almost couldn’t contain it.

His birthday is in two days, and I want to
make something for him. This is his second birthday that will be
celebrated with me, so I want to make it extra special. I am never
good in giving surprises. Well, I never made any effort to surprise
anyone. This is my first attempt. I know that I can’t compete with
his surprises, yet I want to show him how much I appreciate
him.