I am seated at a corner table by a window at the White Rhino fast food area, sipping at my occasional dose of caffe’ latte. It is raining softly outside and my helmet is sitting on the chair adjacent to mine. My laptop is on and I am busy trying to beat the deadline on my assignment while utilizing the WI-FI at this place. I am a regular here. Don’t get me wrong, what I really mean, is that I come here every fortnight; to recharge and just be. So I keep sipping, as darkness crouches the outside, increasing my typing speed until a ‘hello’ distracts me. I look up expecting to match the voice to a familiar face but it turns out to be a stranger just being pleasant.
The distraction lasts, as I remember exactly how you and I met. It had started with a hello at a coffee shop I was trying and we had grown close with each consecutive encounter. Phrases like “bill’s on you’ and ‘I owe you one’ became common and this became our meeting point, our common ground and haven. We even had a table that was almost always never occupied. It faced a busy street on one side and a boring old wall on another. We cherished our time together and almost fell for each other; at least I almost did. I loved how petite I felt as I stood beside your giant masculine form; and how mature your bearded face looked compared to my cheeky one. We would tell each other’s schedule even when we never did exchange contacts; we thought that was romantic. Thinking back, I think we should have anyway; thanks to my futile efforts to locate yours when I missed you. We would walk each other home, sing to each other and talk for hours on end about nothing and everything. They all thought we were a thing, and we laughed at their faces. We looked really good together and I almost forgot you weren’t mine; and that we were just two people who saw each other.
And then you moved, with no word or goodbye note; not even to our steward at that coffee shop. I walked to your house only to find new occupants; with no forwarding address left behind. I waited for you to show up. I asked the waiters of your whereabouts each time i walked in; asked them every morning on my way to work and in the evening as I took my drug and probably bore them with my cliché queries. I did my daily checks like a doctor does on a patient and waited for you like one who had made a solemn promise to always be there; though you never did. We were all I wanted even without a label. That was kinda the thrill of it. We were the ideal. I finally gave up though, well after seeking your number and realizing how little I actually knew about you. I relented after a few months, and even contemplated giving up our coffee shop. I stayed though; as if holding on to the only thing left of that which we once shared; as if afraid to lose the pieces of you I so cherished. I wore that place like a badge of honor; as if proud I managed to walk in there when i knew you wouldn’t.
Then one day, eighteen months later, out of the blues, you called. Where you got my number I didn’t ask. Your name was already fading from mine memory; but your deep voice simply couldn’t. We had one of those weird conversations on a cold July evening, and I felt the ache in my soul intensify as if you literary slit my heart. I hated myself, and the way this affected me, and reduced me to a frail thing. Something tragic happened, you said. And that you couldn’t explain it over the phone. And that was why you were sitting at our place for the fourth time that week, waiting for me to show up. That you too had bogged the waitresses with your bogus questions and that they finally found my number.
But then, I had already moved; away from things that never would be. I was tired of waiting’; for something so uncertain for so long. I had opted for a fresh start; away from the constant reminder that you weren’t no more. I had chosen to leave my ghosts behind and sought solace in my work. I was hurting, and no one could understand why if I explained it; for I too didn’t know why it hurt so much. It felt like I was moving on, but from something that never was. We said our regrets on that weird call and promised to catch up some day. We never have; at least not yet. We never may, and that’s okay. We aren’t kids no more. We can deal.
I am sure that, someday, you will be seated at a place like this one Sunday taking coffee, probably Mocha, and remember me. It would be raining, hopefully, and you would be hugging your mug. You will recall the songs I sang you and admit that I cared. Maybe cared too much. You will admit that I disarmed you and that I always was in your loop. You will hate that my voice just couldn’t leave your mind like yours couldn’t mine. You will smile sadly and agree that it is only romantic because it never happened.
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