Weekends can be strange. It gets on a twilight zonesque atmosphere when your close friend decides to tell you…
“When he left, I remember ourselves walking away from each other. I felt the distance between us growing wider and wider until I couldn’t see him anymore for the space that had taken over. I hopped on a cab, threw my bag and my heartache into the carriage, hoping that the road home would be swift. Then I can look at my familiar things and pretend that nothing had happened. Nothing had ever happened.
Recently, I began to think about him again. I remember him. Sometimes, when I sit at a café alone, I’d suddenly see him across the table. I remember his crew cut hair – he was in the military then. I wonder if he still is now. Is he still as infatuated as about the regimented lifestyle that he always went on about? They never seem to leave his lips. He always did seem to have a love/hate relationship with it. I was intrigued by the stories he told; I’ve never been in the military before. I lapped up his tales of adventure, hardship and the occasional joy and smattering of life-threatening danger.
He got on my nerves. I am not sure why, but he seems to get a certain joy seeing me blow my top with his deliberate nonchalance and indifference over everything. But just before my fuse completely trips, he’d put on the silliest grin and try to cheer me up. I just couldn’t be angry with after that. Nobody could ever really get angry with him. That was just the way he was; so full of charisma. I wonder if he was aware of it though since I don’t remember him ever trying to get his way with things by charming people’s socks off. In fact, if anything, he seemed to enjoy getting things done the hard way more than anything else. (Is this what they call the curse of beautiful people?)
We had a lot of wonderful times together. But one day after his duty he just announced that he was leaving this place. There was no point trying to stop him. He had been planning this for a long time, I know him too well. So I just hoped aloud that he would come back soon. I did so even when I saw him off last at the airport. What was I to do? Throw a dramatic tantrum? That might turn him away from me forever and his last memory of me would be that of a crazed maniac. So I decided to take the high and elegant road.
I knew at the gate of the airport terminal the flight that takes him from here would also be the flight that takes him away from me, forever. We never really did hangout anymore after that departure. I never regretted the decision to take the high road. I am glad I remained calm, refine and elegant right to the end.”
My close friend looked at me. A calm face. But I could tell the brimming emotions under the surface threatening to surge over, the reddening of the eyes, suddenly twinkling; the lips quivering. The face and the body were once again calm, refined and elegant…
Posts
