Through Another's Eyes
Part I - Britney’s POV
There’s something comforting about flying commercial.
It’s so typical, normal, real. In my world of screaming fans, five-star hotels and designer clothes, it’s a little piece of reality.
So when Fe told me that there was an engine problem with my personal, top of the line, designer jetliner, I suggested taking a simple, normal commercial flight back to the US. She looked at me like I was crazy at first. You know, that look where she wants to remind me who I really am. But then, she smiled and nodded. If anyone knows the chaos of being Britney Spears, it’s Fe. And she also knows that sometimes, all I want is to be normal. And right now, sitting in the cramped up coach seat of the jetliner is as close to normal as I can get.
I see the stares, hear the hushed voices, of the passengers behind me as I see Fe lean forward from her seat across the aisle.
"You sure you’re ok?" she whispers in her best motherly tone. Just like my mother, she hasn’t figured out just yet that I’m not a 12-year-old who can’t fend for herself.
But she’s just being protective, overprotective, but protective none the least so I only laugh at her.
"Fe, I have no desire to stay in Japan any longer. I want to go home, sleep in my own bed, wear my worst lounge clothes and eat me a big ole juicy American hamburger and if riding for God knows how many hours in this cramped up seat gets me home, then I’m more than willing to do it."
Passengers continue to stream in, their eyes almost immediately finding me before they gasp and walk grudgingly back to their own seats.
"And besides," I giggle, "I plan on sleeping the entire way there anyway so it makes no difference what kind of plane I’m on."
I watch her glance to the head of the cabin before she leans over, encouraging me to do the same.
"Well let’s just hope you don’t get some freak sitting beside you."
Just as the words escape her mouth, a twenty something man wearing green sweat pants underneath Lakers basketball shorts walks onto the plane. I giggle as I watch him walk back and place his carry on bag in the overhead bin. He glances at me for a moment, making a slight face as he realizes who I am and then he turns to sit down next to Fe.
As he fastens his seat belt, Fe leans forward again and gives me her best puppy face. I shrug my shoulders as I fall back into my seat laughing.
Rolling my head to the side, I close my eyes, letting the sun shining through the window caress my eyelids.
I remain this way for a few minutes until I feel someone brush against my arm. Opening my eyes, I sit up, staring at the elderly woman fastening her seat belt beside of me.
As her eyes move up to meet mine, I feel a twinge in my heart. I instantly feel a connection to her, though I don’t know why.
She smiles at me, her eyes scanning my face.
"Well aren’t you a pretty one," she says happily.
I feel my cheeks begin to warm and I lower my head.
I’ve been called many things by many people before, but for some reason, hearing those words from the woman beside me warms my heart.
"What is your name?" she says and I realize that she doesn’t know who I am.
And I like that.
"Britney."
Her smile widens, increasing the wrinkles on her face, as she reaches her tiny hand out to me.
"Nice to meet you Britney, my name is Lily."
She settles back into her seat as the flight attendant moves beside us and begins to demonstrate safety procedures.
My body bucks slightly as the plane begins to taxi. My eyes instantly find the window and watch as the world begins to pass by.
It’s April 27th. Tomorrow night is Nsync’s final show on the Celebrity tour. Three months ago, I promised Justin I would be home to see him. He was so excited about doing the final show in the Orlando. The city where it all began.
But things have changed. And now, I’m on an airplane bound for Los Angeles. That’s how it’s been. When Justin’s in LA, I’m in Miami. When he’s in New York, I’m in LA. I’m keeping my heart as far away from him as I can.
And it hurts like hell.
But I refuse to show it. I’m stronger than this. I’m stronger than the media. The fans. I’m stronger than Jenna and all of those other girls. And I’m stronger than him . . . . . .
At least I’ve convinced myself that I am.
And I seem to have convinced everyone around me that I am. Even Fe has marveled at how well I’ve taken this breakup. But the truth is, I’m not taking it well at all. I’m giving them an illusion so that they don’t worry about me. Because the more I hear, "Are you ok?" or "What happened?", the more I think of him. . . . . . . and the more I miss him. . . . . . . . . . . and the more I realize that I’m not as strong as I seem.
There it is . . . . that feeling in the pit of my stomach. That emptiness and despair. I’ve gotten used to feeling it over the past month. Every time he enters my mind, I feel it. And he enters my mind often. But of course, my illusion keeps me from revealing that.
I shake my head, desperate to wipe him from my mind, knowing it’s all in vain. Leaning forward, my eyes move to Fe across the aisle. She’s sound asleep, huddled as close to the window as she can get with a blanket covering her completely.
"Is something wrong child?"
Jerking my head to the side, I meet the soft hazel eyes of neighbor. She smiles softly, moving her hand to cover my own on the arm of the chair.
"Do you not like to fly?"
I shake my head softly as my eyes move to her thin hand.
"No," I whisper, "I just have some things on my mind."
"Let me guess, does this have something to do with a man?"
Laughing softly, I look up at her, "How did you know?"
She smiles, her forehead wrinkling slightly, "Because love has a distinctive look in a young girls eyes."
Moving my eyes away, I turn to the window.
"And so does heartache."
The emptiness that has plagued my stomach slowly moves to my heart as she speaks.
I try to speak but I can’t find the words. I’m not even sure if I know the words. And if I did, I’m really not sure if I want to say them to the stranger beside me.
So I remain quiet. And so does she. I move my eyes back to the window. Back to my world.
And then I hear the soft voice of the stewardess. I turn as she speaks to Lily beside me and then pours a glass of water and hands it to her.
She reaches for it, her frail hand shaking and something catches my eye.
A ring.
A band adorning her pinky finger. I stare at it for a moment before I move to her ring finger, confused by the difference of the rings lying side by side. Her wedding ring is elaborate. Gold with etched markings around it that is filled with diamonds. And then lying directly beside it is a plain silver band.
I hear the stewardess speaking to me so I shake my head, not able to move my eyes from Lily’s hand.
My eyes are drawn to the sliver of silver on her pinky. A ring that resembles my own pinky ring so much.
I watch as she takes a small sip of her water and places the cup down on the tray in front of her.
Finally, I find my voice.
"Your ring," I croak, "It’s beautiful."
She looks at me, her eyes lighting up, and she smiles crookedly.
"You’re not talking about my wedding ring are you child?"
I shake my head softly, amazed at how this woman is reading me.
"Everyone talks about the beauty of my wedding ring, but no one even mentions the other. Until you. Because you dear, you see the beauty of what’s behind the ring, not what’s on the ring."
She coughs softly, her body shaking.
"This ring is full of love and promise."
My heart melts, "Your husband made a beautiful choice."
Placing her hand over mine, she shakes her head, her eyes bearing into me.
"No dear . . . . . . . . . this ring," she says as she holds our her ring finger to reveal her wedding band, "is from my husband. But this ring . . . . ."
Her voice cracks as she moves her shaky pinky forward.
"This ring is from the man who will forever hold my heart."
She notices the confusion on my face and she smiles, clutching my hand in hers.
"His name was Peter and he was my everything," she says softly as she looks forward, her mind obviously traveling back to a time long ago.
I sit back in my seat, my hand still clutched in hers, and watch her intently.
"We were friends since we were young. His mom and my mom grew up together so it was natural that their children grew close. He had this crooked smile that melted my heart."
She laughs softly, her eyes glistening as she reminisces.
"I fell in love with him early on but was too afraid to tell him. I dated other guys while he went out with several girls. But neither of us ever clicked with anyone. So one night I was sitting on the rooftop of the apartment building we both lived in and he came up and sat with me. We talked for hours, which we hadn’t done in a long time, and at the end of the night, as we stared up at the stars, he kissed me."
Twisting in my seat, I pull one leg underneath me and nestle in to listen to this stranger’s story.
"I was in heaven. This man, I had loved my entire life was finally in my grasp. We revealed our hearts to each other that night. And the entire time I secretly loved him, he felt the same way about me."
Every word that spills from her mouth reminds me of my own relationship and my heart slowly begins to ache.
"So what happened?"
She glances at me and smiles.
"We started dating. And we were perfect for five years. He gave me this ring to symbolize our love because he couldn’t afford an engagement ring," she laughs, "Every day I fell more in love with him. I knew that one day I would marry him and that I would have his children. There was no doubt in my heart or my mind. Until one day I wavered. . . . . ."
My heart drops as I see her eyes begin to glaze over.
She stares into oblivion as she begins to speak again, "I went to visit him one night. It was late and I didn’t tell him I was coming. I thought I would surprise him. I knocked on his door and no one answered so I went to the roof, knowing how much he loved to stay out there on clear nights. And I was right, he was there . . . . . . . . with his arm wrapped around this girl who I thought was my friend. I couldn’t believe it, my heart shattered into a million pieces. And then he turned and looked at me, his eyes widened from shock and he jumps up. But as he comes toward me, I took the ring off and threw it at him and I told him to stay away from me, that I never wanted to see him again and that I didn’t love him."
My heart pounds against my chest as tears fill my eyes, "And then what?"
She gulps, lowering her eyes to her shaking hands and then slowly brings them to me.
"And then I left. He chased after me and begged for me to talk to him, but I wouldn’t listen to anything he said. I locked my heart away. Every day, he would come to my house and knock on the door, asking to speak to me. And every day, I turned him away. But one day, he didn’t come and it scared me. So with every ounce of strength I had, I went to his house. When I knocked on the door, his sister answered and she was crying. She said he wasn’t there and she gave me an envelope with my name scribbled across the front in his handwriting. Inside was this ring and a letter from him."
Tears stream down her face and I move my hands to hers. They are cold and clammy and still shake slightly even inside my grasp.
"It said for me to keep the ring. That it could only be worn on my finger, that if it was ever placed on someone else’s finger, it would not mean the same. He told me that he loved me and that he would always love me."
She takes a deep breath, glancing at me momentarily before she moves her gaze back to her hands.
"He had been called up to go to war and I had not been there for him before he left. And the final line of the letter said it all. I can still see it as if were right in front of me. "Lily, you are the dream that I will keep close to my heart while I am away for I hope that it will be the light of your love that will bring me safely home."
A twinge of pain sears through my heart as I watch the tears fall mercilessly down her swollen cheeks.
"He never got to see that light. He was killed by enemy fire just a few hours after he first stepped foot on foreign soil."
She turns to me, both of us in tears and she nods her head slightly.
"The last thing I told him before he died was that I didn’t love him. And every day since, I have regretted that. Because I always loved him, I never stopped, but I didn’t tell him. I thought I’d have a lifetime to tell him, but I was wrong."
Moving my hand to my face, I quickly wipe some of my tears away.
"What did you do?"
"I had no choice. I had been handed a gift and for one split second, I let it slip away and lost it forever," she cries, "Slowly, I moved on, but Peter’s memory never faded. I had to learn how to live without him. A few years later, I met Harold. He was a gentle man who made me smile, something I hadn’t done in a long time. I married him a year after I met him and we had three beautiful children together. We were married for 47 years when he died. And in those 47 years, he brought me happiness and solace . . . . but he never brought me the love that Peter did. My heart belonged to him and nothing or no one could ever change that. He was my one true love. I know that now."
Tears pour down my cheeks and I can’t find the strength to fight them.
"I’m so sorry," I whisper.
She looks at me, her tired eyes full of so much history.
"Child, you never know what God has in store for you. Your life can change in the blink of an eye, without warning. Even if I had known that I would lose him so young, I would have loved him anyway because my heart had chose him. I have never regretted loving him. But I have always regretted not telling him how I truly felt."
She takes a deep breath, her face growing dark.
"I found out a few weeks after his death that nothing was going on with the girl. She had been a friend and was having a problem that night that he was talking to her about. I let my pride stand in the way of my heart and I let my soul mate die without knowing that I loved him."
A knot forms in my stomach as her story begins to hit home.
"I learned from that. From then on, I never let an argument grow bigger than it was intended. I learned to look at things before I jumped to conclusions. I learned to fight for what I loved. But most of all, I learned that to never lock away my heart and hide my feelings. For no pain can compare to the pain of someone not knowing your heart."
She lifts her hand, revealing the small silver ring once again.
"This ring has never left my hand since the night I got it back. It’s all I have of him. And when I have it on, I feel like he is with me. He held me as I grieved for him. He stood by me as I moved on with my life and married another man. He rocked my children to sleep with me every night. He walked with me through every step of my life. And now, as I lie in bed alone, he sings me to sleep. I see him. I feel him. I hear him. He is always there. Because he is my true love. This ring was his promise to me. His promise to be there for me always. And he never broke that promise."
My gaze shifts to my hand, to my naked pinky finger. Justin made that same promise to me when he slipped the ring on my finger. He promised to hold me in his heart and be there for me forever.
And he has.
Even though we have been apart, he has always been in my heart.
"Child," she whispers as she stares into my broken eyes, "You only have one chance at true love. Your heart knows when you find that. It knew from day one with Peter. And it allowed me to share things with him that I never shared with anyone else. He knew me inside and out like no one before and no one since. He was my true love. My one chance. And I let it slip away without fulfilling it."
Squeezing my hand, she stares into my soul, "Don’t make that same mistake."
I lower my head and she gently places her hand under my chin to raise my eyes back to her.
"I see it. That look in your eyes. It’s the same look I had all those years ago. I have searched all my life for that look, for someone who felt the true power of love and I never found it until now. I see your soul, child. I see your love for this man and I see your pain and confusion. But let me give you this advice . . . . . . . . . No matter what happened between you, no matter who was at fault or who did what, don’t think that you will have a lifetime to tell him how you feel."
Tears flow freely down my cheeks as I avoid the glare of the stewardess passing by.
"How do you know he’s my true love?"
She smiles brightly, "I don’t child, but you do."
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