Asynchrony
On a night like this three years ago, she told me I was not worth waiting for.
The sky was clear tonight, reflecting the emptiness in me. Remnants of winter were fading into the humidity of summer, skipping spring altogether.
It reminded me of a night like this three years ago when she told me I was not worth waiting for.
Sometimes, which was most of the time, I had trouble talking to Noor. She hated me for it—my lack of communication. But I tell her, “Words bleed, don’t they? The more you use them, the more you can hurt someone.”
That’s how we made it work. Noor & I. Less words, more restraint. At least that’s how I thought it could work.
Back to that night, three summers ago:
We were on opposite platforms of a metro station directly facing each other. She was staring at her emptied-out takeaway coffee cup. I, on the other hand, was staring at the shadow of loneliness that’d haunt me for years to come.
She picks up her phone and calls me. “Pick up,” she mouths.
“Did that hurt?” She asked on the phone while looking straight at me.
“You meant it, didn’t you? But I understand you know. I am not worth waiting for.”
She scoffs. “Come on, El. No more of that ‘maturity’ shtick. Let your heart hurt for once. And stop running away.”
“From what?”
“From feeling things. You always do that.”
‘I’ve been doing that all my life,’ I wanted to tell her.
‘If I stop running and confront all those old and decaying feelings, I might not survive,’ I almost told her.
“We can keep in touch,” I said instead, changing the subject. “Phone, skype, Insta, or whatever. We could even write letters. Like lovers did in the past.”
She looked like she was smiling. From what I could make out from where I stood. “We did this dance before, Elliot. We were 21 then. Hopeless romantics and whatnot. So it made sense.”
“And now we are 24, and the reality is kicking in like a bad drug.” I paused before I spoke again. “But you know what they say. Third time’s the…”
“You better not say it, Elliot. I swear to God!”
That’s when her ride appeared from the darkness beyond, approaching the platform at a breathless pace. Her eyes stayed on me until the train waltzed in between us. She placed her phone close to her heart as she stepped into a quieter carriage with a handful of sleepwalkers glued to their seats.
I listened to her heart in silence, which kept its rhythm while increasing the tempo.
We could see each other from the transparent windows. Her face held an expression that I couldn’t decode. Was it sadness, anxiety, or acceptance?
As the doors closed behind her, I tightened the grip on my phone in response. I opened my mouth, but the words escaped me before I could utter them.
As the metro readied itself for another one of its sprints, she lifted her phone to her ears and whispered, “Goodbye.”
We were 21 when I moved to a city that was half a country away. The rivers and the hills separated us. And then we turned 24, and she shifted to another country. With mountains and oceans drifting us apart.
We were 27 now. Noor & I. Living in different worlds, leading detached lives, destined not to meet ever again.
We knew, our hearts would do the healing by themselves, however long it took.
THE END
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