Sunday, August 20, 2017

That something I asked you.

“Do you have someone you always think about from time to time?” I asked you. Hoping for a blunt truth that would sting a bit, but felt real.

Then you started to ramble about non-sense, “Yeah, maybe… I guess. I definitely think about some people when going to places I’d been too with them. Some names would come up sometimes.”

“No I mean, one particular person. Someone that you remember so fondly and hatefully, but can do nothing about”

“Umm… No. Some people, some exes, if that’s what you mean… Yeah, maybe... But never one particular name.”

I stayed quite. So did you.

My mind was busy wandering around. Started making ugly accusation of you telling me bullshit just to make me feel guilty of asking at the first place. Because it thought, no way you never encountered someone that marked your life so awfully deep, that this person would creep your mind occasionally, randomly, unguardedly.

But then it decided to make other theory. Maybe not everyone would be able to feel as deep. Maybe some people choose to forgive and forget. Maybe they’re so good at burying things, names in this case, and just let everything slide.

“So, I think I will cut my hair today,” you broke the silence, trying to sound casual. I also knew what else you were trying to do. You wanted to let it slide.

And I did.

“Oh. Okay,” I said. “Just make sure, not too short.”

“Of course…” you answered. “I love you,” you continued. Not an obligatory ‘I-love-you-s’ you sometime say when you are cornered, it was a genuine one.

“I love you, too,” I said it back. Also genuinely. I never lied about that. On some other things maybe. But hey, we can always let it slide.

***
Image: Google


***

“I remember sitting back
'cause you said you had something to say
You told me that you had a secret
Promised to keep it safe
I kept it for you
And there was nothing I could do
and there was nothing I could say
I didn't know why you asked me,
you're gonna do it anyway…” ---Corrine Bailey Rae, on: Young and Foolish