I Fell In Love With A Girl Who Died Before I Was Even Born

Once, when I was four, I was poking dirt with a stick in a park near Liverpool, bored out of my tiny mind.

My dad used to take me there when he was busy with work, and I'd play alone, at first.

Until I learned magic and how to make friends.

Let me tell you how that started. It began when I looked up after I'd been playing with the stick.

I don't remember what made me look up, but the wind stirred, and I did.

And I saw her. A girl, older, and she was climbing a tree.

Nothing special about it. Until the wind picked up again, caught her skirt just right, and my entire four-year-old brain short-circuited.

My stomach fluttered, my heart raced, and I had no idea why.

And that's when I met Flintwick.

"Hello there," said a voice from behind me.

I turned, startled.

Certain that no one had been standing there before.

But that didn't matter, because there he was anyway.

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Bold.

Beautiful.

Blond.

The most captivating presence I'd ever encountered.

He smiled, wide, dazzling, and bowed dramatically.

Straight away, he reminded me of someone from a storybook.

"Did I surprise you?," he asked.

His voice had a wonderful melodious quality, and as soon as I saw him I wanted to be just like him.

"I'm Flintwick," he said, closing the distance between us.

I wasn't surprised when I heard his name. Somehow, I knew who he was, and I wasn't frightened the least bit. It was as though I'd been waiting for him to appear.

He stood before me, hands on his hips and a grin on his face.

"I'm Inego," I said.

He beamed.

"Of course you are!" he said.

He knelt down to my level, and he put his hand on my shoulder, gently.

"And do you know what you are, Inego?"

I shook my head, speechless.

"Why, you're the most special little boy there ever was."

He said it as though he were explaining why grass was green or why leaves change color in the fall.

As though it were mundane.

"You believe that, don't you?"

I nodded. Of course I did.

"Excellent! Now, another question."

My breath hitched. I liked Flintwick's questions a lot.

His expression changed, and he became serious. As though he were conducting business.

"Now, listen carefully: would you like me to be your friend and teach you how to never be alone?"

Would I?!

"Yes," I breathed.

Flintwick's smile stretched impossibly wide. He looked positively giddy, and four-year-old me expected him to break into a jig.

"Oh, yes! Yes is a very good word, Inego!"

His eyes sparkled, like sunlight in a stream.

"Stick with me, and you'll hear 'yes' quite often. Does that sound good?"

Sounded bloody brilliant.

"Yes."

He flashed a bright grin.

"Quick learner," Flintwick said warmly, extending his hand.

It was soft, warm, inviting—I never forgot how it felt in mine.

And he stayed by my side ever since, guiding me.

Magic, words, movements.

He was the opposite of my father.