I couldn’t help the adrenaline rush. I looked around to see dynamic groups of youth bang their heads to the awesome music that was on. And how the smell of hot butter popcorn tempted my taste buds! As I saw little girls dressed in fancy costumes, carrying candy floss around, blowing up soap bubbles, I started to feel really happy inside. “Hey, let’s go click a picture there!” said Jane pointing out to the life-size Michael Jackson cut-out.
“Music Mania 2013” read the colorful poster whose letters were written in bold graffiti style. This was the 1st time our community association had come up with such an appealing carnival on music. It was exciting to see so much love for music outside a concert hall.







*********
Jane, Lily and I waited and watched as the baker drew delicious creamy curves of mayo on our hotdogs. They had put up a stage for people who wanted to perform. The three of us were strolling and munching on our hotdogs, a little far away from there.
Then, I heard something beautiful. Like the voice of an angel; with the warmth of a million suns ; with the subtlety of a single raindrop. It made my legs uncontrollably hurry towards the stage to get a closer look at the possessor of such a beautiful voice.
And I realized, that he had a beautiful face too. He had lovely brown eyes, straight, spiky brown hair and a smile that was as warm as his voice.
Enquiring a few friends, I came to know that his name was Alex Brooks and that he shifted from El Paso to Fort Worth just a couple of weeks back.
One part of my heart confessed that he was too good for me. Another half consoled me and gave hope saying that living in the same area, we did have a chance of becoming friends.
That night I kept tossing in bed, constantly recollecting his beautiful voice. “Alex, I said to myself, what a nice name.”











******
“Wow, Charlotte, this painting can get you a pocketful, if you planned to put it up for sale.” Said Kate, who was nearly whispering to avoid her words from reaching the ears of our Editor Mr. Johnson.
I had, along with many of my friends from school, volunteered to be permanent contributors to our community youth magazine, ‘Horizon’. I was an illustrator and so, brought in some of my artwork couple of times in a month.
I turned to look at Mr. Johnson in his cabinet, when I saw him talk to someone whose back was facing my view. The person turned around. It was Alex. For one minute, all my thoughts came to a halt. I pinched myself hard and tried to control myself from smiling like a maniac.










*******
In the months that passed, I formed a strong bond of friendship with him. I realized that this person had not only a beautiful face, a beautiful voice, but a beautiful heart too.
He gave out free candy to little girls, he planted saplings on the sides of roads, he complimented grannies until they blushed red. He loved people and tried to cheer them when they looked upset. He grew a number of pets. A dog called Brownie, A parrot called Flora, and a pool of colorful fishes.
I visited his place often and he visited mine too.
One such day, when he went to the kitchen to get me a refreshing glass of orange squash, I was in his room reading his poetry. I mistakenly pushed his personal diary down. When I bent down to pick it up, I saw a piece of paper. Something on it caught my eye. It was my name. Charlotte .Written in neat bold letters. It was dated 6th of September, which was a week away.

I hurriedly took it between my hands. I was a little guilty, yet, I told myself it belonged to me anyway and that it wasn’t a crime to read it. It read,
Dear Charlotte,

I ‘ve always felt more comfortable to express myself through written words than spoken. So, this letter. Everything about you is so special Charlotte. Your thoughts, your smile, your words. Something about your paintings makes me feel good. When I look at your art, I see something more than mere paint, I see a part of myself Charlotte. It’s hard to explain Charlotte. I love you Charlotte, I love you from the bottom of my heart.
-
Alex
I folded the paper quickly and stuffed it into the diary which I placed on the table. I had never felt happier. Like a butterfly that flies for the first time, like a kid who sees the first rose in her garden, my heart jumped with joy. I tried to act normal around Alex who was coming up to me with a glass of orange squash.







*********
6th of September, the day of my dreams arrived. It was a Sunday and I was awaiting his arrival any minute. I tried to look my best. My nails were the victims to my nervousness.
Then I got a call. It was Alex and he asked me to come over.
“ Charlotte, I’m sorry for not letting you know for so long. I really don’ t know how to tell you this.” Said Alex who seemed to be choosing each and every word.
“ I really hope you don’t refuse.”
“ Just say what you want to Alex, please.”
“Charlotte, I like a girl. I thought I would tell her today. Today’s her birthday.
I wasn’t born today.
“I would feel better with you along. She lives two blocks away. Can you come?”
I nodded hesitantly.
I didn’t understand what he was talking about. “What was the letter about?” I thought to myself. I hoped ‘the girl’ was all a big joke. I really hoped it was.








*************
We stopped in front of a white two storey house.
“Charlotte, just stay here till I give her this letter and know her response.” He pointed to a letter that he held in his hands. It was the same as I had seen.
“Wish me best of luck.” He said as he turned around.
I did.
After about five minutes, he came to the door and signaled for me to step in.
I stood in the hall as he ran into one of the rooms to get her. I looked around to see several wonderful paintings adorn the wall. One depicted a mother with her child, one depicted a young girl bathing under a waterfall. Another, of small boys flying their kites. “Charlotte, meet Charlotte, my best friend.” said Alex.
That is when it struck me. I was not the only one whose name was Charlotte. And I wasn’t the only one who could paint.
Trying to hide the sorrow that filled my entire body, I stretched out a hand to greet her.
“Um, Charlotte, her hands lost their functionality in an accident. “
I fought my tears as I looked back at the paintings.
“Oh, Charlotte, I drew them. I’m a mouth painter.” She said as she smiled.







******
In spite of my broken heart, I soon realized how lucky I was to even know Alex. I’ve heard about the phrase “Golden Hearted”, but on that day I truly understood what it meant. Alex taught me that love was something divine, something that could ignore external appearances, something that connected two hearts. His love reached out to someone who needed it, who needed it more, more than me.
I wiped the tears that flowed uncontrollably from my eyes and I said “Thank you Alex. Thank you God.”