Us

Same old, same old. Let’s talk about it, shall we? But this time you will do the talking and I will listen. Tell me why should I not complain when you are not home when I need you? Do you need me? Or am I not as mysterious as I was when we first met? It’s alright. I won’t cry. Out loud. Tell me again why do you always keep your phone by your side lately? I don’t. I have nothing to hide. But may be you do. Did you start flirting with that colleague of yours with a tattoo on her left wrist that says ‘Hope’? Or did you start feeling smothered because I hold you close when we sleep? And now you‘re trying to get away. I know how this conversation is gonna go when I open the door and welcome you in. You’ll be tired. But you want to get this heavy feeling of guilt off your chest. I noticed your gym bag is getting heavier by the day. And our closet more empty. Today when I opened it, I couldn’t see your favourite pyjamas or your cologne or your blue silk tie. Last time I saw it was five weeks ago. Since then the distance from my bedside to yours increased a couple of miles. Your goodnight kisses became lighter and lighter. And then faded. I haven’t hold you in my arms in so long. And it reminded me how, when you came home from the business trip last week, instead of putting your suitcase away in the storage you just slid it under the bed. I let you slip away. Let me help you. I’ll order pizza tonight and won’t put pineapple on one. I’ll clean the closet and separate your socks from mine. Only your cup will be on the drying rack tonight. I will wash and fold your everyday clothes and put them neatly on your side of the bed. When you come home, you’ll find your books dusted and bubble wrap on the counter in the bathroom. Let me save us the conversation we both don’t want to have. Knock knock. He is home.

You put your bag on the couch and fixed your unruly hair. Poured yourself a drink and asked about my day. We chatted briefly and you got lost in the game. No. You were not ready to talk about it. I sat next to you and finished your drink. I noticed you haven’t taken off your shoes or your watch as you always do. You noticed that I haven’t nagged you about it. Players on the TV could not hold your gaze. You stared at the floor and started tapping your foot. You finally looked at me after three and a half minutes. I stared into your light brown eyes as mine started to flood. ‘Maya’. You said, trying to calm the storm rushing inside of you. I nodded and hugged you. ‘Jay’. I could only whisper. We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. We collected ourselves and had pizza without any appetite. You packed your stuff into the suitcase which was kept under the bed. Without a sound, I watched you collect years of memories and tucking them away neatly in your linens. ‘Jay’, I said. ‘Maya’, he whispered as he closed the door behind him. I stood there thinking about the day you moved in. And witnessed the ending of our story the way it began, with a thud.

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