Friday, 17 April 2009
A piece of paper
Fridays are always warm cozy and relaxing for him, a regular activity in a Friday morning is coffee and a book. In the very busy life of Abdullah, little time was spared for his beloved books, therefore his Friday's were booked for them. After getting ready to go out he randomly picked a lonely black book he stopped reading after 10 pages during a flight.
Two years later, in the Friday that he decided to re-read it, losing memory of why he stopped reading it in the first place, he picked the book and went to that quiet distant tiny coffee shop, enjoying a lovely morning in Kuwait, as long as the weather allows it. As he sat along with his water and coffee, he read the book very quickly, since it was "an easy read" he told himself. He stopped to enjoy whats left of the coffee at a 70 something page, he forgot to bring his book marker, the page number recalling seemed a bit optimistic for his memory and although he hates folding a paper of any book, he decided the unexpected and as he was about to do the forbidden act, he noticed that the book has a piece paper slightly appearing between the back cover page and the last page. He turned the book, took the paper out and his face was bloodless, suddenly he became blue for a few seconds before he regained his sense of people around him, you can not risk showing shock or any obvious feeling without having all the people around you stare at you!
When he laid his eyes on that piece of paper a strong quick flashback came...
Trip to New York
Transit flight to Amsterdam
Last minute booking
Drunk man beside me
Her memory, my pen, my notes
The cold couple reminded me of her
How sad they were and angry at each other
Falling asleep to hide tears
" I miss what I thought I had, but since I didn't have what I thought, did I really miss out on anything? Of all the assurances I have, that I did the right thing, I sore with agony to what was wasted, of time and energy. I'm happy with who I became and of the lessons learned, but I will never be the same. I want me back."
The above was what he wrote on that piece of paper, back in 2006, when after seeing a couple sitting together physically but mentally very distant, beside him. He recalled her, the her that he gave a chunk of his life and his heart in full to, back when she was his wife. Just like the couple who sat beside him, he and her were apart. Of all the closeness they had and the wealthy life they lived, emotionally they were broke. They both stayed in that cold life, for the heck of it! Since they are in it, why not give the institute of marriage a chance? That was the choice he regretted, he should have known that the road has no ending, and there is no yellow brick road to follow home, nor he was a girl in a fictitious movie! He created his own world with nievity, he thought that if he tried everything, she will change.
"We change out of love and among that change we still long for the old us at times and if we were lucky we would enjoy the new us"
Abduallah was telling him self, to reassure that in that past, he was a young man with very pretty hopes and dreams, yet did not care for what he wanted more than what others wanted, nor did the right thing. He wasted his time fearing divorce and not facing the simple fact that his marriage was a loveless marriage.
"Love is not everything" his family kept assuring him and that with time they will be close together and they will grow on each other, with each other. Little did they know who & how their son was.
He folded the paper quickly not noticing the waiter that was blabbering over his head, but he saw his face right when he looked up...
"Excuse me, what are you saying?"
"Sir, I was asking you are you OK? The coffee just spilled on the table as I bumped into it. I'm very sorry sir!"
He took his book, his piece of paper and water, got up, looked around quickly to see that every one is busy with their own business, talking, eating, drinking. Little did they know that he was bleeding, it was a pleasant feeling to know that they do not know, yet very bitter on his heart, for he was the wounded and healer at the same time. He left in content and no regret.