Note: Sorry to all my readers (all three of you) for the huge delay in articles! My computer broke, and it's hard to find a place to upload, edit and arrange the layout. Also, life has kept me busy. Guess it's back to pens and legal pads until then.
***
It isn't a familiar place, I can't quite put a finger on the location, but it seems like home, and that's where I see her. She walks up to me with those smiling eyes. I'd recognise those eyes anywhere. When we first met, those little globes were the first thing I noticed about her. Everytime she smiled, those brown soul-windows would say: I'll always be here for you.
Perhaps I read them wrongly. Maybe that look didn't mean a thing. I probably got ahead of myself, set up my own emotional demise. I'll never know.
"It's... it's you," I say. The rest of my words are stuck behind a veil of stupor.
"Yes," she smiles. "India didn't work out after all."
"Ah."
"Maybe I should get a job, settle down." She holds my hand. It feels strange, but familiar. Like coming home after being away for a long time. "Have you been taking care of Russells?"
Russells was a random plant we picked up at a DIY store back when we wanted to start a garden. It got its name from her liking of Brussles sprouts and mine of Russell Brand. It died a year ago, but for some reason this logic escapes me. "Yeah."
"How's things?" she asks.
"Good... good. How was your trip?"
"It sucked. Everything sucked, and the accommodation... God. Don't you think it's too bright in here?" She turns off a switch, but the lights stay on. Weird. Also, her verbal derailing doesn't seem to faze me.
"Well that sucks." I find no out from articulating with a tied tongue. I've always wondered what I'd say when she comes back, if I'd be pissed or if I'd forgive. If I'd hold a grudge and never pick up her calls, or if she'd ever call at all. This encounter has shed some light on that. Spurts. I'll be dealing with our unresolved issues in spurts. With monosyllables.
She comes close and wraps her arms around me. A hug that says everything's going to be alright. A hug I'm probably reading too much into. A hug that's much too warm and comfortable for someone I've not talked to in months.
With our heads side by side, I feel her breath on my neck as she says: "I'm back now. I'll always be here for you."
Doubt creeps in. I've heard this before. She said the same exact words not long before she left for another country, leaving me to pick up the pieces. The same words I saw in her eyes from the first day I met her. My own foolish hope. My own downfall.
Everything starts to make sense. Why I'm here in this obscure location. Why the lights didn't turn off when they were supposed to. Why I have no capacity of logic or memory. The surroundings start losing their edges. Everything starts fading away. These thoughts come and go in milliseconds, the mind putting pieces together at a blinding pace, a phenomenon hard to explain, but one that everyone has been through.
I tighten my arms around her and brace for the inevitability.
"But you said you'd always be here..." I whisper. Everything else turns into a canvas of darkness and the last memory I have of my alternate reality are those eyes. I'll always be here for you.
For a moment, I wish that me waking up from the dream was just a dream, and things were back to before she left, but even that is just a dream.
They say time heals all wounds. I guess I haven't paid my dues. I've spent months trying to settle my emotional debt in one day increments.
I sigh as I roll out of bed. Another day.
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