If I’m to be brutally honest with you, it was my intention to make Henry fall in love with me. I was bored and it was a game I played against myself. If one tactic did not work, the next might. A competition, if you will.
But all of it worked. I would catch the sparkle in his cheeks when I stood up from the piano bench. I felt his warmth penetrate my hands when he would grab them up and twirl me around. And when he leaned in to smell my hair, I would let him for moments longer than I probably should have.
He was kind enough. And attractive enough. And while we’re playing this honesty game, you and I, the truth is that I didn’t mind so much. His attentions were vibrant. They were pure. And they were the first I’d had in all too long. It’s hard to find the attentions of a man while the city was being bombed to pieces. Everyone, myself included, was too consumed with being afraid and staying alive.
To have the lieutenants in our home, after the several year drought of social interactions and stress, was almost too much for my young heart. I marched on, giggling aloud when his giant, awkward missteps moved me to smile. I pursued it, allowed it, encouraged it.
He bought me gifts, which I accepted. Much to the chagrin of my mother, who knew what I was doing but could not stop me, I accepted them with a smile and a blush. They were beautiful, and I had not had new things in so long.
My favorite gift was the green diary. It smelled of smoke and tears, but it was in perfect condition otherwise. I think he rescued it from a destroyed book store. I can imagine his glee when he stumbled upon it. Like a child through the window of a candy store.
Immediately, I set myself to writing in it.