I baffled and looked at the clock. It read 2:45 A.M. It took me a moment to realize what exactly woke me up at this odd hour. I looked at the man sleeping beside me. He was fair, 6’1 ft tall muscular man. I looked at him and looked at the clock, it kept me wondering. I lifted my hand to settle my hair that flopped on my face. I grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped around my naked body. I heard the phone ringing for the second time and it got me conjecturing who it was. Who would call me at this odd hour?
I was married now. I lost touch with most of my friends because of my overly possessive husband. For a moment I was scared to death, the Goosebumps on my body screamed fear. The nimbleness in my feet was not due to the cold floor in this terrible winter night, but because I did not want my husband to wake up. All this happened in fraction of seconds; all my thoughts were asking what happened to the charm that I endured once? What happed to the wittiness that exemplified my existence? Was it the marriage or my broken dreams? The phone kept ringing for the third time and I finally picked it. It was a private number.
With great intricacy and obscurity I mumbled Hello in a slow voice. I could feel the cold wind playing with my hair which made me shiver. I swiftly clutched the phone between my ear and shoulder and grabbed the sheet with a strong grip. I unfolded it and wrapped it roughly around my body in a way in which it wouldn’t fall. I could hear someone breathe in heavy voice on the call. I knew it meant trouble. Yet in the search of something that I have lost long ago, I never missed on any opportunity that crossed my way.
I have always idealized a life where I will meet my long gone love, waiting for me, may be on the corner of a road or in a super market, may be in a lift or at a movie theater. I have always fantasized about that. In fact, the truth is I now enjoy the suffering. I enjoy enduring the thought which kills me every day. I think of him as a man who is happy in his life.
Hello, he said. A sudden quiver went down my spine. Did I hear it right?
I was baffled and perplexed to hear it again after so many years. Years that left me lynching at the corner in endless longing, years that defined an era of my life full of regrets and yearning, years where suspended terror lighted my soul, but how could he and why would he? After all this time, when I begged, pleaded for his coming, I cried, mourned, sobbed every night till the tears went dry, I solicited for everything for every change in me to work it out and yet he shredded and went away.
I wanted to cut the call, I wanted him to feel the same pain, the same emotional paralysis that I went through, the same suffering which killed me so many times, despite the fact that I knew he wouldn’t suffer half as much as I did, yet I wanted that for him.
I have always wanted this to happen, him to come back to me, plead and ask for forgiveness and ultimately ask for a chance, I wanted to give him a chance too, to begin it all over again, to free me from my miseries, from a man I do not love. I searched and gazed through every corner of my house I could in that moment, to see if anyone was around to look at me, my actions and their secrecy.
I did not speak all this while and just heard him breathe ghastly and desperately. In that moment I remembered everything that had happened; right from how me met, the times we sat next to each other laughing at the volatility of time, when we first kissed, when he held me, when he wiped the tears off my face, during the serenity of cafuné and finally when he left me.
Thinking of him leaving me that unexpectedly burgeoned my wrath. It made my vision blurry, filled with tears; it reminded me of my vulnerability.
By this time, he said twice will you come back?
That night I died twice: First on bed and then after the call.