She walked towards me, beaming intensely with delight- one that was usual for our every meeting. We hugged. Hmmm! That’s all I can say! I can try to explain that exclamation but I still would be unable to mold these amazing feelings into words.
The world around us always blurred to the background when we were together. “I missed you terribly” I would say. “I missed you more” she would reply. “No you can’t” I often retorted and the debate afterwards would heighten the glee of our meeting until we chose to get serious enough to open new pages of trivialities like: “so Dear, how was your day?”
Hmmm! my heart feels cheated. It feels English language hasn’t given it enough words to express the true dimensions of enchantment that escorts our meetings.
Oh, her name? Mirabel. It was easy to call her my Miracle. We were friends. Just friends! Everyone who witnessed our ‘hmmm’ moments doubted with fervor that we were just friends. Even we had a string or two of disbelief tugging at our hearts yet, they were always expressed mutely, at best.
And then we sought for a good reason to land this flight of deception- the impression that we could love each other this much without dating- and chose to give this ‘thing’ a good shot. With all coast clear, we did. And our gift of heartwarming friendship was the best foundation we could ever have. With such strength of a foundation, this ‘thing’ we shared will never end we thought. We thought so wrong.
For as long as this memorable jolly ride of romance lasted, we awakened glossy admiration in the eyes of friends and fiends alike. They overtly salivated for an experience like ours. The not-so-wise itched to break us up, with the amusing hope that by dating one of us, they would taste of our scarce brand of romance; regardless of how brief. So we heard! I’m not sprinkling yeast on facts here. These are nude truths.
Ok, so why would we alight from a ride that was jollier than any Shakespeare tale of love? Why would anyone (in their right senses) sever this lovely melody from the cadence of two young hearts? How could we ‘grow apart’ as they often say?
It was largely my fault. Not entirely but largely. I partly absorb the blames, as burdensome as they are. I didn’t cheat on her; at least not sexually. I failed her. I failed to plan.
The present was indeed a present- a gift. We relished it so much we become somewhat oblivious of truth. We are age mates. That meant that she would always feel the discomfort of the ticking clock if we didn’t get married early. Your guess is as good as mine. She started feeling it….. 20months down the line. Alien strain visited our bliss. We wrestled with our long denied truth. I wasn’t ready; I didn’t plan to be ready then. I only hoped and now I know regretfully, that hope was not enough.
Words indicating a switch of lanes trickled from her lips. “Dear, it’s not like I don’t love you, but please can you lift eyes a bit more to behold reality?” she said. I felt multiple stabs with a jagged edged knife.
The debates were no longer trivial. They bled life out of our larger-than- life affair. Life lacks a pause button. I would have held hard to it, visited the past, planned, executed and returned ready.
Time doesn’t wait for anyone, not even for a wristwatch repairer. I’ve ever since remained sober. Sober enough to love the present and levy the future.
Now, even our beautiful friendship has been reduced to a memory. I couldn’t settle anymore for just friends. Comfort and demotion are fierce enemies, Ribadu will understand more. I have learnt my lessons but after the school was shut down.
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