Why me?

I sat there, in the cafe, tapping my fingers against the table. There was a gentle breeze that swept my hair back and for a moment, there was an eerie silence permeating all around me. I close my eyes, dramatically, as I soaked in that singular moment of serenity. Somewhere a radio was softly singing Simon & Garfunkel; a different time, a different age.

"I am a rock, I am an island...", I whispered, subjecting myself to the tunes that brought me up. I remembered my father and the day he showed me that CD for the very first time.

A hand placed itself gently on my left shoulder as I let nostalgia overcome me. I jerked my eyes open and turned around, around to that wonderous sight for sore eyes. Relapsing to my adolescent ways, I stood up clumsily with an uneasy grin trying to mask my discomfort. I mumbled, "Hi".

She smiled, an omnicognizant look, one that reminded you of God and candy and home and all that is supposed to be good about the world. Like then. Like always. She replied, "How have you been?". I didn't reply but just motioned for her to sit down. And we sat.

I looked at her. That first time, the distant face in the crowd. A moment of insanity as I asked her out with that ostensibly suave line, "Will you marry me? Now?". That was so far in the past, it seemed unreal. And then, for some reason, all I remember is her leaving me. Just like that, out of the blue.

"I hear you are doing well?", she laboured on with an unresponsive me. I woke up from the daze to answer, "Yes, yes. Finishing my PhD. Almost engaged... and you?" "I'm doing well too. I got married last year..." The rest of the words faded as I was seeing her but unable to comprehend what exactly she was still saying. I had to know. Now.

"So why? Why did you go? Was it me or not? Where did you go? Why didn't you tell me anything? Did I do anything wrong?". Those were the questions on my mind. Swarming around, teeming insects in my cerebral cage. But all the words which escaped and manifested themselves were, "Why me?".

She remained quiet. She was probably expecting this. Remained a stoic picture of apathy. I assume she was rehearsing her lines. Her script for this very real movie.

"Don't try to pick holes in the past. What happened then was true in that time and context. It wasn't you. It wasn't me either. It was just as it was. Do you wish for me to continue?"

I was being the silent statue now. I nodded. No.

She stood up. "Think of me as your poison. You were able to withstand me then. I was your reality check. I did really like you once upon a time. But circumstances and well..." She quiesced. She mustered up courage as she strove on, "All the best for the future. I hope we can..."

"No."I abruptly interrupted. "I wish you all the best in your life as well. Que sera sera." I stood up as well and bade farewell. We parted ways once again.


----


For friction acts in the direction opposite to the direction of motion.

And T, dream, thyme and asparagus.

Fiction,
H