Eight months, two weeks, four days, seven hours, thirty-nine minutes, twelve seconds and counting… Yes counting. Counting the days since I woke up to an empty bed. Counting the nights that I’ve gone to bed feeling lost and alone. Counting the tear stains that have dried up on my pillow. Counting the cold nights where my duvet has been my closest friend because your arms were not available to hold me. Counting the number of meals that have gone to waste because I still can’t eat alone. Counting the sleepless nights caused by the nightmare that you are never coming back. Counting… Still counting.
I am angry. I am mad at the bed on which we have had our many fights and make ups, the right side you slept on. The right side of the bed that held the brutal note. The note that left my heart feeling like it had been pierced by a thousand swords with it;s simple words; “I’m taking sometime off. Need to clear my head. Don’t know when I’ll be back”. I am mad that you felt the need to leave me with a broken heart while you’re… Where the hell are you? I am mad that I can’t tell you how it hurts. I am mad that I am hurting alone. Or do you hurt too? I am mad that you left me without so much as a goodbye kiss. Or did you kiss me in my sleep?
I am mad that I miss you so much.
Oh, how I miss you. I miss waking up to your kisses on my forehead, tip of my nose and lips. I miss making you pancakes while you play with the flour, almost always leaving specks on my face as you kiss me. I miss taking a bath with you. I miss our playful banter and endless teasing. Darn! I miss your laugh that usually begins as a soft chuckle and then transforms into a deep, throaty laughter as you throw back your head and let out that perfect sound. I miss cuddling in your arms after a long day at work while we exchanged details of our adventures in the world. I miss that lovely aroma from the kitchen whenever you made dinner. My pillow is too soft, I miss the hardness of your chest. I even miss our fights.
We fought about everything didn’t we? The best position to leave toilet seat, up or down; The washing of the dishes especially after I made the meal; Taking out the trash most when I had fresh manicure; Closet space; You hanging out with your friends, when I didn’t want to be alone; What movie to see, action or thriller; The beach or a pool; Tea or coffee; Rice or pasta. Black or white… And on and on. I thought it was harmless, maybe even healthy. Did it push you away?
Tonight I have set a table, made your favorite meal. There is candle light and soft music just the way you like it. I am looking at myself in the mirror, wearing the sexy red Zara dress that you say takes your breath away. I see why you like it so, it hugs in all the right places. I smell lovely, fruity yet flirty. I am waiting. If you will ever come back, tonight is as good a night as any. It is after all Valentine’s day.
I sneeze, then sneeze again. I reach for the can of deodorant on the dresser and I sneeze yet again. I start to chuckle as a thought flits through my mind. “Who could be thinking of me?” I wondered. Then I correct myself, “Who would not be thinking of me right now?” My chuckle die into a rueful smile as I remember you. No, I do not remember you; I never forgot you.
I was minding my business when you walked into my life. Nay, you came barging into my life. Another time, another place and I would have resented such intrusion, maybe I should have, but I did not. Instead I welcomed it and encouraged it; I was flattered that you would even think of me that way.
You made me happier than I had been in a long time, simply by being in my life. We bickered, we bantered; we fought, we made up; we teased, we argued both sides of the fence no matter what was in contention, or what wasn’t. You made me love you. The first time I said the words out loud, I was amazed at how easily they rolled off my tongue; it was as easy as saying your name. You asked me why I loved you so, and I asked what’s not to love?
You said my voice made your heart sing, my words made your world spin, and thoughts of me made you want to skip and dance. The funny thing is that I believed you. It was easy to believe because I was presented with the same symptoms, symptoms of the malaise called love. It was heady, it was strong. It made me feel invincible, this spell your love cast. Everything was alright with the world, until everything wasn’t!
Which is why I am standing here in this room wondering what went wrong. Was it youth and a string of poor decisions? Or was it fate? Could we have stopped it from happening? Was there anything we could have done to salvage our love? For you did say you love me, just as I said those words and believed them to be true with every fibre of my being. I do not believe we were brought together to not be together, but I guess that’s the romantic in me – if ever such a possibility exists.
I have tried to fill the void you left, but a void is as a void is: yawning, gaping, stretching…
I wait for the next sneeze, but it does not come. Fully dressed and looking dapper, even if I say so myself, I take one last look in the mirror and smile at what I see, I like. I shoot my cuff to check the time, but I don’t see the luminous dials, only the smile on your face the night you presented me with this watch. We should be together on a night like this, I mused. If we will ever get back, tonight is as good a night as any; it is the 14th, isn’t it?
A sigh escapes my lips as I walk out to join Monday, the cabbie; there is the question of a dinner I travelled all this way for, and this dinner needs attending. It will be nice to see you there…
PS: It is the month of love, it is the season of heartbreak; there’ll be chocolates and flowers, tears and recriminations. It may yet be sullied by lust and crowned with unplanned babies. I would wish all a happy Valentine’s day, but what is to say it will be happy for all? To be honest, what do I know about these things sef?
A big thank you to Miz Parker for working with me on today’s DUEt. Miz Parker lives somewhere on 19th Street and you can raid her room at www.highlandblue.blogspot.com. Just look for Kovie’s Room. You can follow her on twitter @kovieparker.