“Aigoo,” I said as I practiced the violin in my room, hoping to memorize Milo’s piece before the last rehearsal. The showcase was less than two weeks away, and each day that passed made things feel so much more intense. This past week, Milo didn’t seem like himself. He was reserved, and only talked when he had to for rehearsals or when we had regular class. It was like he wasn’t even there at times; just a shell of the boy I used to know. I don’t know what happened after leaving the park last weekend. I was terrified of Mr. Kamalani; not because he was scary, but because Milo was his first son. In Korean culture, firstborn sons are held to a higher standard than the rest of the children. They are viewed as highly achieved, responsible, and are built to be caregivers for their parents during old age. In this case, Milo was not only Mr. Kamalani’s first son, but he is the son of a teenage romance.
Last summer, before high school started, Milo asked me how I would describe what love felt like. I remember raising an eyebrow at him, looking confused and wondered where this question even came from. That’s when he told me the story of Mr. Kamalani and his biological mom.
“They were freshman in high school when they first met,” Milo began to explain as we sat in the treehouse at his grandmother’s house. “They were in band together, in the strings section like you’ll be in.”
“A dual major in the strings section? That sounds odd,” I commented, knowing the reputation the strings section at Waverly have. I already knew it wasn’t going to be an easy four years for me.
“The dual majors program had just became a thing when my dad was a student at Waverly,” Milo explained. “Apparently, my mom was intimidated because most dual majors keep to themselves; they hang out with other dual majors because they supposedly spend the most time together; whatever.” Milo adjusted himself to get more comfortable to continue his story. “But, my dad wasn’t like that. All of his friends were just regular students, but something about my mom caught his eye.”
“She must’ve sparkled in your dad’s eyes or something,” I said, visualizing the scene in my mind as Milo spoke.
“She was very pretty,” Milo softly added before turning his head to me. “She had short blonde hair, and she wore my dad’s beanie in almost every picture he has of her.” Milo sighed before he continued his story. “It really became her beanie. He gave it to me when he told me the story behind it; I can’t see myself ever wearing it. It just… feels heavy.” I nodded my head as he spoke, understanding the sentimental value behind the piece of cloth. After all, there are things that my mum gave me that belonged to my father; they carried too much emotional weight to ever just wear them, yet alone look at them.
“So, your mum and dad meet, they play in the same band section; where do you come into the equation?” I playfully asked, just to lighten the mood a bit. Milo laughed and shook his head, probably not wanting to think of the biology behind it all.
“That’s the thing,” Milo said in a perplexed way. “I don’t understand how they fell in love so quick. How do you know you love someone in such a short period of time? How did it even get to that point?”
“I mean, I guess it happens,” I shrugged as I said, not knowing the answer myself. I’ve had crushes over the years, but nothing where I found myself being undoubtedly in love. I have dreams and goals to accomplish; I simply just do not see the purpose of letting something intangible like love get in the way.
“But my mom was the smartest person in her grade,” Milo argued. “She was in these different honors societies and taking senior-level classes as a freshman. She would’ve been smart enough to know the difference between right and wrong—”
“But love isn’t something that you can deem as right or wrong,” I debated. “It’s a raw emotion. You see it all the time in movies, and you hear it all the time in music. It’s like once you feel it, it’s not like you can stop feeling it, y’know?”
“I mean, I love my family and my friends, but they don’t keep me from deciding what’s wrong or right—”
“You were conditioned to love your friends and family though,” I stated. I took a deep breath, reflecting on the people in my own life. “I love my mum because I was conditioned to love her. Mums are one of the first human beings we learn love from; and of course for some it’s their dad…” I sighed before I spoke. “Even when your family hurts you, or breaks your heart in some way, it’s not like you stop loving them. Why? Because we were conditioned to always love our families, no matter what.” I looked at Milo as he intently listened to my words. “I love my father despite him being in prison in the UK.” It was the first time in a long time since I said those words out loud. Milo didn’t say anything after that. I shook my head as if I was shaking the thought away. I smiled, and continued on. “Being conditioned to love someone is different than falling in love with someone.”
I was suddenly taken out of my thoughts when I heard a bang against my window. I deemed it as just yet another annoying branch hitting against my bedroom window. The second time the noise happened, I jumped up from my seat and walked towards the window, annoyed at this tree.
I opened the window and nearly screamed at the top of my lungs. Holding my chest to catch my breath, I watch Milo sitting on that annoying tree, next to the branch that hits my window.
“What in the world are you doing up here?” I yelled in a whisper. Milo just starts laughing, smiling as if sitting on a tree is the most normal thing to do in the world.
“I came to see you,” Milo began to explain. “I wasn’t sure if your mom was home, so I didn’t want to just knock on the front door and–“
“Be a normal person?” I teased before laughing. Milo rolled his eyes playfully, looking into my window. “You’re practicing the piece?”
“You mean the one where you purposely split up the measures in eighths?” I commented back, looking at the violin on the ground. “Then yes.”
“But it’s a good challenge,” Milo insisted, trying to reassure me. “I just felt like the pieces Mr. Harrison gives you guys is way too easy for you. You master them within a week.” Now it was me, playfully rolling my eyes at Milo.
“You still didn’t really answer my question,” I reminded Milo before he got too much off topic. “What are you doing up in a tree?” Milo’s expression changed immediately; something was clearly bothering him.
“I had to get out of the house,” Milo began to say. “Between my sisters running around the living room giving Jennifer a heart attack and my dad out with Micah for basketball practice, I just needed some air.”
“That’s understandable,” I said as I nodded my head. “You could’ve came through the front door though; my mum isn’t home.”
“Climbing up this tree makes things interesting,” Milo said, smiling at me. I was glad that he was acting like himself again, unless he was just putting up a facade. Is he putting up a facade?
“Are you okay?” I simply asked. I didn’t have to say much for him to know what I was talking about. He sighed before answering.
“To be honest; no,” Milo admitted. “I feel like the universe is trying to test me and my limits. I feel like there’s so much happening in my life… it’s like I don’t have a moment to breathe.”
“I know how that feels,” I responded, thinking about my own tests that the universe is putting me through. “Do you want to go to the pizza shop and talk? I can ensure that you’ll be more comfortable sitting in a booth rather than on a tree.” Milo smiles at my comment before he sighs.
“Let’s go to the treehouse,” Milo suggested. I scrunched my eyebrows, confused.
“I thought we weren’t allowed to go back to the treehouse together,” I voiced out, remembering the last time we were there. Milo sucked his teeth, as if he totally forgot what was said.
“Grab your things,” Milo stated. “We’re going to the treehouse.”
…
By the time Milo and I got to the treehouse, the sun was beginning to set. The sky was a mixture hue of oranges and pinks; it was like someone painted the sky with watercolor or something. Milo looked up toward the treehouse, pointing up towards the ladder.
“You go first,” Milo insisted. I began to climb up the treehouse; handle by handle that led toward the entrance. I remember the different things in the treehouse from the last time I was up here. The different literature books that were his mum’s still remained in the egg-shell colored bookshelf. The pile of notebooks with sheet music was still next to the small cushion where he sat. The beanie that his mum used to wear was still on top of the books within the bookshelf. It wasn’t long after that Milo showed up in the treehouse as well, smiling as he sat in the space next to me.
“You sure it’s okay that we’re up here?” I asked Milo again, worried hat we’d be caught by his grandparents again. Milo shook his head no, for the umpteenth time, reassuring that the coast was clear.
“You’re fine, Scout,” Milo said as he leaned over to the bookshelf and grabbed his binder full of music. “Okay, so the final bridge of the song is very fast, it’s suppose to be played like a chaotic thought; all over the place, and gives up in the end.” I scrunched my eyebrows, trying to understand what Milo was talking about.
“A chaotic thought?” I repeated, wanting Milo to elaborate further.
“Something manic, but comes together to become beautiful,” Milo tried to explain. He grabbed a pencil and continued explaining how the end of the piece will sound like. He began circling different notes on the music staff, writing little symbols next to the important parts of the music. I couldn’t help but watch Milo be in his element. He was engaged in it, explaining each part of the music with as much detail as possible to ensure I saw his vision. It was inspirational, but it was also sexy to see him like this. He must’ve noticed the way I was looking at him since he’s now looking in my direction now.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head and said, snapping back to reality. Milo laughed as he smiled, looking at me.
“I didn’t say anything,” Milo admitted. I felt my face getting hot. “I guess you heard me say something though.” Loud and clear, Milo. I just kept staring at Milo as he looked at me. It was the way that his hair fell softly down his face, slightly moving with the spring breeze. His freckles begin to show on his face, especially when the sun directly hits his face. Even though it’s been almost a year from graduating middle school, high school Milo feels different. His hair was a little longer, the baby look in his face is slowly disappearing, and he feels… safe. I’ve always felt safe whenever I was with him, but this was a different type of safe. It was a… I could trust him with my entire mind and body. “Scout?” he finally said.
“I’m sorry–” I shook my head, gathering my composure. “It’s… hard for me to focus.”
“Are you really afraid of being in the treehouse?” Milo said, concerned. I quickly shook my head and smiled, letting him know that wasn’t the reason.
“No,” I started to say. “I’m surprisingly feeling safe in the treehouse. I always did.”
“I’m glad you do,” Milo said with a smile. He sighs, as if he has more to say. I turned my head, giving him all of my attention. I hope I am your safe space too.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked him softly. Milo wasn’t great at hiding the things roaming around on his mind. Maybe he doesn’t wear his emotions well on his face, or maybe I’ve looked at his face so many times, I just know the differences now.
“Mollie ratted me out the other day,” Milo began to explain. “She was the one that told my dad that I was in the park with you.” Of course, it was Mollie’s doing. “Like we aren’t even friends anymore, and she still finds the need to make my life harder—”
“—when it comes to me,” I finished the sentence, looking at Milo. Milo scrunched his eyebrows together.
“Not just her,” Milo added. “It’s my dad, it’s Jennifer, it’s Waverly, it’s—”
“Milo,” I simply said, and he instantly stopped talking. He took in a deep breath, and let it out as soon as I placed my hand on his lap. “I understand. And it sucks, but…” I was trying to find the right words to say to him. How was I suppose to comfort him with something I’m still trying to comfort myself with this thought. This thought that we are constantly being divided by people because… well…
“We have to follow what we want,” Milo was now the one finishing my sentences. “I want to spend time with you in the treehouse. I want to be able to go to the pizza shop, or to the west wing or to the band room or to the stage in the park with you. I want to be able to just say ‘fuck it’ and–“
“Me too,” I softly said, agreeing with him. We were both now facing each other, close to the point I could feel his breath brush against my face. Something about Milo was different. He wasn’t just this boy I had a crush on in middle school, and he wasn’t the boy I met over that one summer and completely became infatuated with. He was becoming a young man; fearless, protective, and endearing.
“I want to be able to hold you. I want to be able to kiss you,” Milo confessed.
“Then kiss me,” I said to Milo’s face, looking down at his lips and back up to his eyes. Milo hesitated for a moment. I could almost see his heart jump out of his chest, his mind scrambling with thoughts. I lean in closer to him, letting him know that it was okay. Milo softly touches the nape of my neck and pulls me in. His lips feel like fire against mine, but the burning sensation fuels me. The kiss deepens, just how it did back at his house. It doesn’t feel foreign kissing Milo up in the treehouse; I felt safe. I trusted Milo more than I trusted my own judgment at times; this was one of those times that I let him take control. He bites my bottom lip, which immediately catches me off-guard. Without holding back, I let out a soft moan into his mouth. It must’ve drove him crazy as he got closer to my body.
“I want you,” Milo whimpered out in between kisses. It was now me going crazy. My skin is on fire, and every single touch of Milo’s is the flame. The kissing gets even deeper, and for the first time I am not scared. This feels right. This is different. This is what we both want.
And so, it happens. It’s now dusk, and the stars begin to appear in the sky. I feel Milo’s hand tussling in my long, black hair. I can feel his heartbeat jump out of his chest 100 beats per minute. The world is silent for the time being. I wish it always felt like this. I wish I could stay like this with Milo, forever.
Letters From Liz. 