Right after she asked me, I thought, if we’re really planning to elope, shouldn’t I learn more about her? After all, we’re going to always be together from now on. The thought kept me awake. So, I said to her, “That’s a good idea,” in a playful tone. Then, “But, don’t you think I should get to know more about my fiancé first?”

Hera didn’t answer my question. She made a grumbling noise. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about it then. But, I mean, shouldn’t you get to know someone before committing your life to them? After all, both people are responsible in a relationship—that is something I still believe until now. Fortunately, though, she then asked to me, “What do you want to know?”

My face lit up. I turned my head to Hera. “I’m going to ask you a whole lot of questions, be prepared,” I said enthusiastically. She just grunted with her back on me. So, I asked my first question, “Where are you from?”

Hera fell silent for a while, I thought she fell asleep. But, then, she replied with a small, barely audible voice, “Somewhere. Perhaps, over the rainbow.”

That was such a weird answer, I know. I chuckled. “Be more specific!” I demanded.

“I like fresh bread,” she stated, instead of answering my question. “My favorite animal is bird—well, I like horse, too. I’m not picky on food and I don’t have any allergy. I like flowers that are colorful, but I also like fruit trees because I can pick the fruits any time I want. I think that’s all about me that you need to learn.” Hera then pulled her blanket over her head. “Good night.”

I was caught off guard at what she was explaining. She really explained a lot about herself—but nothing about her past or anything. But, still, knowing a little bit of her was a progress for me then. So, I accepted that. I laid down and said, “Good night,” and fell asleep myself.

Well, I guess, then, I should learn more about her little by little.

And I did just that. I tried to learn about her, little by little. I stopped asking things that might be sensitive for her—like her past, her origins, all that. But, I would still ask her about more of her likes and dislikes, and then noticing a few traits for her.

For example, she would always frown when she was thinking hard. She didn’t know how to clip her nails. She sometimes would chew on her nails when she was nervous—but realized it relatively quick—which then she would stop chewing, apologize to me for some reason, and wipe her nails on her clothes. She would notice every little thing in her surrounding and was sensitive to noise. A little sound of something in the bush was enough to keep her awake. She was friendly with people—which was different from me. I didn’t know how she made that many friends, considering she also stole from some of them together with me. She always came back with warm food in the morning—not that I knew how she obtained it. She was a curious person, always looking at her surrounding and asking about every single thing. Also, I found it quite amusing that she was the type of person who couldn’t handle not bathing. Bathing and cleaning were quite the luxury, to be honest. The necessities like soap, shampoo, and all of those stuffs were so expensive. I couldn’t afford them all the time. I tried to clean my teeth at least once a day, but bathing everyday was too much. She couldn’t stand that at first, that was funny. No wonder when I first met her, she was really clean as if she bathed daily. She also kept a spoon to eat. She stole it once—I didn’t recall where—and always kept it with here everywhere. Any food that needed utensils, she would use it. I found it more comfortable to just use my hands, but she prefers her spoon so much.

Anyway, there were a lot of things I learned about her on the course of a few weeks, but I still hadn’t managed to touch into the sensitive subjects. I still couldn’t get her to tell me her past. So, instead, though, I’d be the one to initiate that talk. I’d talk to her about my past—although I had told her bits of them. I’d tell her about my family—how my mother left us, how my father died, how my older siblings left me alone, and how I met my previous companions. She would listen to me while holding my hand. Sometimes, I though that telling her my life story wasn’t about having her trust me and opening up to me, but about me trusting her and wanting comfort in her.

I just found it very comforting to share my burden with other people. And I hope she would someday find comfort in sharing her life with me.