Aravella Celestine Dwayne's Point of View
A night shrouded by darkness and shadows—I was 19 years old. I wore a simple black dress, as I preferred the color black-it reflected my quiet love for darkness, for there is something home-like about it. Nothing much of a birthday celebration, just small gathering, but good enough it was. The day passed pretty ordinary, really. Classes, well, they have their happy "Happy Birthday" song, warmth of their good wishes, at least for once. I was not invisible.
When I finally arrived, I was surprised. Mom and Dad hadn't gone to work today. They were waiting at the door, their faces glowing with love. They had invited some relatives-most of whom I barely knew-and a few childhood friends, although I never really had many close ones as a child, but really just to make me think I had people in my life even when I didn't.
My brother Caspian had invited some friends of his from high school to spice up the evening; among them was Clem Gray. That's right, inevitability he still somehow ended up walking through that door but my heart skipped a beat when I saw him, as it always did.
Clem had a knack of drawing attention even when he was simply sitting there. Dressed casually in a simple black jacket over a plain shirt, he walked into the crowd without much bother; quiet charisma pulls people towards him like a magnet. He was hands down the most handsome person in the room, but what set him apart was that he never boasted about his life or achievements. He never boasted of wealth, status, or success as I know he could do if he wanted to. People admired him for his being down-to-earth and approachable.
Everybody knew Clementine commuted everywhere, taking the bus or walking when people would show off their cars. If he had a car, nobody ever could remember to recall actually seeing one. And in a weird kind of way, that only made him more interesting: an enigma who lived plainly, despite how effortless it seemed for him to fit into circles of influence and privilege.
I stood back against the edge of the room, watching him as he talked to some of Caspian's friends. Madeline wasn't here, thank God—at least, not yet. I didn't think I could manage to watch them together again tonight, especially when every glance Clementine sent me raised emotions inside of me that I didn't really want to name.
This is when my little brother Dylan comes running towards me, wearing a huge grin on his face. "Happy birthday, Ara!" he shouts as he thrusts a small gift box into my hands. I couldn't help but smile and kneel down beside him.
Thanks, Dylan. What is this?.
He grinned mischievously. "It's a secret! But I had to beg Mom and Dad to let me buy it. They gave me money because I said it was for your birthday!"
I chuckled softly and hugged him. "You're the best little brother ever."
Wrapping off the gift, my heart melted. It was a simple bracelet, but the effort behind it meant the world to me. I mean, Dylan was only seven years old, but somehow he could brighten up even the darkest of my days.
"Do you like it?" he asked excitedly.
"I love it," I whispered, fastening it onto my wrist. "Thank you, Dyl.".
He wrapped his arms tight around me before taking off to go play with the other kids. I stood there for a bit; there was this unusual state of being happy mixed with melancholy. It had been a good night by every measure, but there was just that empty space that I couldn't explain-a sense that something was slightly out of touch, going on at the periphery of my life.
I looked back to see what Clementine was doing, but she stood quietly enough at the drinks table, filling a glass. For a man so often in the public eye, that was perhaps surprising; he carried himself with such solitude. There was gravity in him, an air that seemed as though he belonged anywhere and nowhere at the same time. And perhaps it is that which explains why people are drawn to him. He was a puzzle—someone you could spend years trying to figure out and never really know at all.
I stepped out onto the patio, wanting some space to get my head around things. The night air felt fresh and bracing on my skin. Muffled conversation hummed in from inside, but it was distant and faint. I leaned back against the railing, gazing up at the stars scattered across the sky.
For a moment, I imagined what Clementine's life might really be. People knew the outside: the surface-level things about him, but nobody actually ever knew deeper parts - hidden layers that make him who he is. He hardly ever shares much with people, doesn't brag or easily give out pieces of himself. And maybe this is why, at times, I couldn't help but think of him more than I wanted to.
I heard the door creak open behind me, and before I could turn around, a voice I knew told me softly.
"Nice night, isn't it?"
I turned my head just to see Clementine casually rested back against the doorframe, his glass held dinedly in hand, the soft interior glow cast a faint halo around him.
"Yeah," I said softly turning my gaze again back to the sky. "It is."
He shifted over and stood beside me, a tranquil, unobtrusive presence. We stood there in comfortable silence for a few seconds, both of us gazing out at the night sky.
"Happy birthday, by the way," Clementine said after a little while. "I didn't know it was today."
"Thanks," I mumbled, flicking him a glance. "It's not a big deal."
He smiled slightly. "Nineteen is a good age. Old enough to know things, young enough to still mess them up."
I laughed softly. "Sounds like you've had a lot to think about."
He shrugged and took a sip off his glass. "Maybe."
I wanted to ask him more, about his life and thoughts and story, but the words caught in my throat. What would I even say? We weren't close. We were simply two people who happened to cross paths far more often than we might have expected. And yet, in that quiet moment, it almost felt that we understood each other somehow, in some small, unspoken way.
"Caspian's really proud of you," Clementine said, breaking the silence again. "He talks about you a lot. Says you're the smartest person he knows."
I blinked, catching myself off guard. "He said that?"
Clementine nodded. "Yeah. You mean a lot to him."
I felt a small, gentle warmth spread through me as my chest eased into a less-tight feeling. It wasn't much, but it was enough—at least a reminder that I wasn't alone, that when I thought of myself as a ghost in my own life, there were those people who cared, who saw me.
"Thanks," I whispered, more to myself than to Clementine.
And then suddenly, something was a little bright, like those dark, heavy shadows that clung to me all day finally started lifting. Maybe the night wouldn't be perfect. Maybe it wouldn't change everything. But standing here, under the stars, with Clementine holding my hand, for this moment, it was enough.
And so for tonight, that was enough.