Tender rendezvous #1

This man came and sat on the chair across the table infront of me.  He was reading a book, Raiders from the North. Historical fiction.
This was a  library-cum-book store. There was a section where You could borrow books, another where You could buy. I would buy the ones that would really touch my soul, the words of which would perch into my mind and stay there, free to leave but choosing to stay.
You know how is it with something You create Yourself. You hold it in reverence, admire it, love it, edit it, loathe it and then forget it. I do. I was sitting there in the store staring into the screen reading my own words. Tender notes from a recent scar.

“Usually people keep these books for the whole term that they borrow it for” the store boy chirped in.
“ I have read it” I got up as he handed me my store card back. Ready to collect another book.
“You want to talk?” the man sitting across asked me.
“You look surprised.” He continued.
“I am”
“Well You’ve been sitting here for the past half an hour without as much moving your eyes away from that sheet of paper.”
“So?”
“So it’s an easy conclusion that You are gravely hurt about something. I have found talking to strangers about Your hurt sometimes help. You don’t fear their judgement. So, do you want to talk?”
“Not really.. why? You want to know?”
“If You want me to.” He shrugged.
“Doesn’t really matter. My friend… he is..” I trailed off..I hadn’t anticipated I’d choke on the words. To avoid this strangers stream of questions I picked a book pretending to be interested in it. Those few seconds I was all but interested in ANYTHING. The storm had just hit and I had to keep it off bay.
I continued thumbing through a stack of mills and boons magazines, realised I shouldn’t and reached out for the science-fiction section.
He prompted me again “He is..?”
I looked back at him unmindfully. “He is..oh..He is seeing someone.”
“He was seeing someone?” he questioned pointing towards me.
“Hmm. And now Someone else.”
“You know her/him?”
I gave him a glare through my spectacles. “ Her. And he definitely wanted me to. He had called her for coffee too.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I ignored.
He kept the surprise look going, apparently waiting for an explanation.
Finally, “Hmmm..” he breathed and got back to his book.

I too returned back to my escapade. Books. But irritated. I wanted him to ask me. Inquire about the entire thing. Bug me with questions. Show me remorse. And while I am countering and dodging him I might just end up feeling better. But.. Hmm!

I almost snarled:

“Oh please! Don’t You dare pretend to be empathetic about the situation. You might have done the same thing. People ‘in love’ do stupid things”
“You are still defending him?” He expressed, rather submissively.
“No” I said angrily “Now I am fending you off. Don’t play the am-good-at-heart-card!”
This was me venting my anger out. Arguing for no reason. I could feel my body tense up with strange sentiments infront of a stranger. But I couldn’t control.
His spark came back. Strangely enough. And I collected my book back to read through a few pages before deciding I was taking this one or not. My stomach retched. I was aching to scream.
He continued “Keeping the anger inside won’t help.”
This, I found relaxing. “Why will I be angry with him? I am not. It was me. I fell for him knowing well what could come of it. I let my whole world circle around him. And i didn’t have it in my heart to seek after my instincts. While he worked upon them. He knew nothing would come of remaining in a certain place A so he moved to B.” I had said more than I had planned on.

I reeled back to his qualities, he could listen to his heart in a conundrum too. This was one of the qualities that had attracted me to him in the first place. His impulsiveness. Why did my legs feel stoned and why I couldn’t walk away when I had the chance, was another story. There was no point in wallowing now.

Aachoo.. he sneezed. Great. Any which way I catch a cold quickly when i cry and now these pathogens are going to accelerate the process.
Wait! Why was I worried about crying? Why will I cry? I had known where this was heading. We couldn’t be together when no one wanted us to be. And now that even we didn’t want.. ‘the us’.
My phone buzzed with a message from my Mom. Yeah she trailed me wherever I went. Even now that I was in another city! I hadn’t eaten proper food for two days now. I was famished. And she probably had sensed my distraction and was worried. I was deciding on leaving when he asked.
“What are you doing tonight?
Now I knew where was this heading. I, with a child like untrained temper replied
“Sleeping.”
“ What hath night to do with sleep” he retorted, cheekily quoting Milton.

My annoyance dissolved a little. Paradise lost. Careful girl. I got up, mumbled a goodbye and left. I was halfway down to the bus stand when I realised I had left my piece back on the table. I ran back like a fawn frightened of its predator. My heart too palpitating so. I didn’t want to lose my creation. I reached their breathless, dishevelled and disoriented. My piece was missing. In its place was an invite for an event that night. I couldn’t read the name through the tears. I turned it over. In an impressive cursive writing I read, after straining a lot, ‘I knew You’d come.’
I walked back to the stand, hailed a cab and dragged myself back home. With mixed feelings. I didn’t go for that event that night. But i didn’t go home and cry either. I felt light. A lot lighter than I had anticipated.
A month later.
I was looking for a magazine in a stand when I came across a similar invite only it wasn’t an invite, it only had a poem printed on it.

Tender notes

“Smiles forged from some past lesson revived.
A sad end to an expressed thought: Sublime!
Some days I wake up to a sorrow unattended:
Smothered and beaten.
Beaten and beating heart inside.
Am more of a story than a poem…
This life in words doesn’t have a note,
The tune dischorded..it doesn’t know how to move.
Long enough have i progressed:
Pretending it didn’t exist.
It has, and now decided to come:
And speak of itself..!”

“Soft and tender- Your notes I remember,
And I remember the howl of the hollow insides.
Why should I be burdened so
With these memories and You so few.
It’s cruel- I know not what
For those notes to ripple all through in my life
Reminding me of the shivers, Your fingers ran down my spine.
Or for You to forget all that we shared
Every song and every happy memory
Or that parting sweet desperate prayer.”
–

“Crazy anecdote with a Mad girl” It said. To find out more You had to go watch that play.