The Slipper and the Prose

Sam hesitated. "When I wasn't here...were you...with him?"

"Nein," she said, shaking her head. "We have never had that sort of relationship. We're more friends, from childhood. We understand each other, we are relaxed. But no, we've never done that. I would never do that to you."

Sam took a deep breath. "This is a lot to take in, Peta."

"I understand, if you want to go and take some time to think," Peta said, gently holding his hand.

He looked up at her. "Would you break it off, for me?"

"I don't know, don't ask me that yet," she replied. "We're early into this, and we're still getting to know each other."

"But you have a backup?" Sam said, flaring up. "Like, a literal husband you can take, right now, if you wanted to. So how do I know, if I put in all this effort, that you won't just...walk away?"

"I would never just walk away from you Sam," Peta said, gripping his hand tighter. "Never." She hesitated. "Wait here." Sam watched as she walked to the bookshelf, and took down a copy of the encyclopaedia Britannica.

She opened it up to reveal it as a cleverly disguised box. She passed it to him, and he looked through it, astounded. Every postcard, every letter, the pin from Brands Hatch a months ago, every ticket stub and, a piece of paper, which he recognised as a letterhead from the Athens Imperial Hotel, written on in German. He held it in his hands, and read it aloud, in slow, broken German:

"Er hat mir den Kopf verdreht. So habe ich mich vorher nicht gefühlt. Jedes Mal, wenn ich ihn sehe, komme ich seiner Welt näher. Mit jedem Schritt, den ich mache, entfernt sich mein Herz von meinem eigenen. Ich denke daran, ihn in den Rosengarten mitzunehmen und auf seinem Arm zu gehen. So habe ich mich vorher nicht gefühlt. Er ist in meinen Träumen und mit jedem Traum komme ich seiner Welt näher. Mit jedem Traum, den ich habe, entferne ich mich von meinem".

He looked back to her, quizzically. "I got a few things...dream, rose garden...could you?" Peta took the sheet from Sam, and put it on the table. She grabbed a biro out of the box, and started writing. Sam watched, amazed, as her English translation came to life on the page. She held it up, and began to read it aloud, in English:

"He has turned my head. I did not feel this way before. Every time I see him, I draw closer to his world. With every step I take, my heart moves away from my own. I think of taking him to the rose garden, and walking on his arm. I did not feel this way before. He is in my dreams, and with every dream, I draw closer to his world. With every dream I have, I step away from mine". She finished.

Sam's eyes were watery, and he sniffed. Peta's eyes welled up with him.

"No one has ever written me a poem before," Sam stuttered.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me," Peta said, leaning over and embracing him, "you are the first boy I have ever truly loved. Give me time, please, to work this all out."

Sam nodded, smiling through the tears. "It is beautiful prose, by the way," he said to her.

Peta smiled back through her own tears. "I'd never written a poem for anyone, before, either", she said.