And To You, I Say Its Never Too Late

When she walked in the second time through that door his eyes were still glued six minutes after she had left, he made the gesture universally recognised by the managers of hearts and minds to denote severe exasperation –really he just wanted to help. With variety of tasks to accomplish, he was reluctant to move from his spot, in his defence I would say, he was rather inhibited and anxious; his own mood quietly seething and the certainty that behind the scenes somewhere off stage everything was okay, was slowly weakening.

Any momentary triumph he thought he had gained in seeing the reality; the situation as it seemed, was wearing. What is unseen counts for nothing, but would the same hold for what can be felt? Indeed it may have been highly unlikely that he understood the magnitude of the whole situation, but it was hard to ignore the fact that he could feel. In his face, he had failed to hide the main details, truly he knew the events were rather bad or worse depending on what angle of imagination you factored in trying to understand anything there is to be understood.

If; is used in reference to things that may not actually happen, but introducing when the game changes. It, emphasizes the inevitable, that which cannot be avoided and has to be borne. Here is the thing, no one is ever too sure. It’s like watching the clouds of the sky gather, turning into ominous darkness. You know it’s going to rain, but you can’t tell the minute or how hard it’s going to fall. You just know its close. Loneliness is real, and he was afraid, afraid of losing the one friend he had. He knew what it is for a person of his kind to seem the way she did. It signified a prospect he was now reluctant to imagine. He was a patient human nonetheless. Having asked in the first instance the nature of events, meant he would take some time to ask another count.

He, in a black overcoat as dark as his thoughts that formed an oddly unceasing circle in his mind. He seemed to struggle with his own principle; his patience was growing in its negative proportion. Constantly he raised his head in search of her gaze. She was reluctant to comply. Even so, the two struggled. She was embarrassed. To her there wasn’t much to hang onto, everything was failing and falling in all departments and a friend who seemed like he could do anything. She knew she would protect him, but she lost herself in the storm. And she wasn’t going to drag him, it would kill them both and so she found a way. Still, she wanted so much to say goodbye. Seeing him watching her, she didn’t know how to, she was afraid he had read the signs, she wasn’t ready to bail out. She was just too close.

He had spent so much time sitting there hoping for a better competition in the way he thought. Somewhere he stood up, leaned against the wall. It was a question of which is worse, accusing your instinct or rejoicing that, there is no way to prove after all. He sure thought there was a way and he was ready to explore. It is said the right moment wears a full head of hair: when it has been missed, you can’t get it back; it’s bald in the back of the head and never turns around. It may just be what it is, a say. I don’t want to declare myself a maestro of the language of the queen but any language neophyte understands its depth. She was an intelligent, sensitive human being with the soul of a clown. She took to his direction all smiling and eventually a massive hug. In spite of everything, in spite of dark and twisted ideas he had, and a further extension of a dark stretch he could see, in spite of the final moment which he felt he had no chance of avoiding and still didn’t understand, he trusted her a mistake she was counting on.

It was his birthday and she knew too well if there was any time as a good time it was his day. And so her actions were tailored to blind his perception. She was brilliant, she knew he would be occupied to realise the speed and the direction her ship was sailing. After all, even the wrong thing done at the right time deserves a bit of credit. “I know you’ll make it, I just know you will,” in her heart she wanted him to be okay.

Even at the stroke of the afternoon, the weather was still magnificent. A clear day, with sharply etched white clouds in the sky. He was sitting at a small brown marble table, his usual seat, in a patch of sunlight. Somewhat the heat felt delicious in a country known for its extreme cold weather. He thought of his friend, the hug, the smile. If it was not a stage of a short goodbye, the next stage of another was surely not so distant. There was a sharp pain in his stomach. He picked himself gingerly from his seat and hobbled off. His destination was her mom’s doorstep.

Her mom was already home, he walked in changed some words here and there and she laughed as he walked to the stairs. He was her other child. He knocked on her door once or twice but it was quiet. He carefully turned the handle and the door budged. What lay before him seemed more like a scene out of a crime movie. He didn’t move any further, his heart leapt to the vicinity of his gullet. He swore at the top of his lungs, but his words were lost to the sudden sound of screaming. Yes her little brother was right behind him and what he saw was beyond the capacity of comprehension. He was late, but not too late to catch up, he thought. As he was almost crossing the line that same night, he heard a voice soft, steady and with a sympathetic edge, and a tone almost bordering on helplessness. “I don’t have all the answers but I hope that we can find them together, on the natural you might only be the only person who understands what she did, the only person who will remind me she ever existed.”

In her hand was a letter and she read it with utmost sincerity of the author, “I want you to know that I’m not scared. Well, not of dying, anyway. I remember the little things, like how you say my name. I never thought I’d miss that so much. And I remember you from the first time. Just sitting there; your favourite coffee table. I knew I would have you. And I managed. I was lucky. I wouldn’t do this any different. As for why I was around today, I so much wanted to see you one last time. My hope for you: when you’re looking back years from now, you’ll be able to see that I loved you. The future is in your hands now and I know you’ll find a way to do what’s right. You always have. Take care of my mom, take care of my brother, take care of my friend for me. And take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy. Thank you always for being more than a friend to me.” Somehow her friend wasn’t too late.

Advertisements

One thought on “And To You, I Say Its Never Too Late

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: