It’s so strange to see him here, a clash of two very different worlds.
It unnerves M as she squirms under the scrutiny of his gaze, still the penetrating azure of her memories.
He smiles as recognition lights up his face, adjusts the collar of his coat and runs a hand through his hair. M used to love the way his hair would glint gloriously in the sun.
Now it’s starting to thin a bit at the temples and showing streaks of silver behind his ears.
No matter, she muses, he’s not hers and he’s never been hers.
If so, then why is it so hard to breathe?
Swallowing the flood of regret trapped just beyond her epiglottis takes more effort than she feels she can manage. But she manages and is even able to eke out a carefully practiced smile.
Her mind protests loudly as they make their way towards each other and she’s feeling terribly betrayed by her feet as she breaks into a brisk walk into his arms.
I’ve missed you, she hears him mutter into her ear and she can only close her eyes and take in his scent. He’s woodsy with a hint of patchouli and bergamot and perhaps a tinge of fine leather.
The freshness of laundry detergent and soap cuts through to a nice finish and she never wants to let him go.
But here they are, parting already and exchanging nothing but the shallowest of pleasantries.
How’ve you been?
What are you doing here in New York?
How is the family?
The fine, vellous hairs at the start of his fading hairline catches her eye and she marvels at the way they seem to catch all the light. It’s a softness that makes her chest constrict, much in a way a heart attack would, she reckons.
Memories that used to lay dormant roars alive in the space between her ears and from under the protective hold of her rib cage.
Days spent lazing around with their mutual friends, hours spent making the perfect CD mixes, ice cream in the summers and hot drinks to warm their hands in the winters, day trips to the beach and shy furtive glances at each other under twinkly carnival lights…
It’s all too much to repress and she just allows herself to bask in the warmth of those memories while trying to concentrate on the conversation.
Quite frankly, she couldn’t care any less about quantum physics and faster-than-light travel but eagerly nods and smiles to prolong the conversation as long as possible.
All the while, she’s committing his features- now harder, firmer and defined with fine lines set into his strong jaw-into her memory. She doesn’t know when she’ll be graced with the opportunity to see him again.
A familiar ring breaks the conversation and she silences her phone without bothering to check who’s calling. She resists the urge to curse the caller under her breath and smiles at the blonde to continue.
But it’s broken their flow, and he’s checking the time on his phone as well.
I’ve got to get going now.
She nods blankly, numb but burning all over, all at once. It’s a terrible juxtaposition, to feel everything and nothing, searing pain and apathy.
She wonders if he’s broken her brain. At the very least, he’s broken her heart.
You should be used to this, she smiles bitterly.
As he walks away, she stands rooted to the spot, hoping that he’d turn around and look back at least once.
Just once, she pleads. But his figure continues to retreat and soon he’s lost among the crowds heading for the subways.
Even the weather is not cooperating with her today as the bright rays and gentle breezes belies her grief and moodiness. She’d have much preferred rain and chilly temperatures.
But life is cruelly ironic.
She hugs herself tightly, trying to mend the large gap he’s left behind, trying to pick up the pieces of herself falling after him.
He’s not yours…