Descriptive Essay On Crossing Lines

1472 Words 6 Pages
Crossing Lines

I watch him as I walk down the lawn, his chocolate hair falling softly across his forehead. My eyes move down to his tie, then his pocket square, and his elbows. He’s keeping his hands clasped in front of him, wrists turned towards himself blocking my view of them. Maybe that was intentional, maybe not, but even though I can’t see them I know there are thin lines as white as my dress etched into his arm from years ago. I turn my eyes away and glance at his mother as I pass her row of chairs. She’s looking the same place I was with a despondent look in her eyes. I wish his mother could see him the way I do. My eyes flash back to him, he’s right in front of me now. The officiant is mumbling something I’m sure is important,
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Rosabelle, what are you even talking about?” he looks bothered now. “Well, I mean, you got all quiet and reserved all of a sudden. Are you mad at me?” His eyes soften now, and he reaches his hands out for mine. “No, I’m sorry, you’re fine love, I’m just a little stressed it’s not your fault,” he sighs. I smile seeing my Jude return back to me. “What’s bothering you kiddo?”B “Just… Just things, you know? A lot of different things….” Jude’s eyes cast down, avoiding my stare I assume. “Babe talk to me. Please?” I place my hand under his chin and lift his head as I ask what’s wrong once more. As his eyes meet mine again, and I see a trail of water on his cheek, and move my hand to catch the tear before it falls on his knee. “Jude….” “I’m sorry… I’m sorry Rosie,” he whispers to me. His words confuse me, and I start feel fear growing in the pit of my stomach. “Sorry for what..?” I hesitate to ask. Jude hangs his head and takes a deep breath. “I-I, well, I…” he sighs. He reaches for the cuff of his sleeve, but moves his hand back down shaking his head. I move my shaky hands towards his sleeve myself, hoping desperately that I won’t find what I know I will. But I …show more content…
I crouch to put on my boots and I can hear mumbled words from Jude just a few rooms over. I remind myself that he’s telling his mom, and that she’ll help him, and get him whatever other help he needs. I try and let that calm me, but I can’t get the image of his marked wrists out of my mind. I stand and brush off my jeans, as well as the remaining tears on my face. I silently open his front door and step out. As the air outside greets me, I take a deep breath of fresh air and let it out, hoping with all I have in me that he’ll be

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