It was a sunny winter day. He was waiting for her in the park. On their fixed bench. A slightly cold breeze disrupted the leaves from trees time to time. He had the tea pot ready, as he always brought a tea with him and a pack of cigarettes. After waiting for her for over half an hour – that was typical of her – he saw her coming. He smiled. She smiled too, with her teeth and gesturing apology for being late, but actually not apologizing. Never did. That was her way of existence.
He stood up for her and they shook hands. She sat down and the two hugged. Reluctantly, like always, but longingly. Making sure the other one knows that the other is there for the other one. No scent, as usual, he thought. Though Jasmine was there, he felt.
She brought homemade sandwiches. He always loved her handmade tasteless stuff. However, while sipping the tea, she always thought the same. A terrible teamaker.
She undid her shoes and felt the grass under her feet. He looked at her from time to time. After thinking for ages, he took her hand in his and caressed her the way grass was caressing her feet. He always held her hand. She never resisted. He always thought about it before moving towards her. She never hesitated. Yet, there was this awkwardness, that remained even after the embracement, between the two. And perhaps, that was the beauty of the two. Always thinking of the other one first. Always being present for the other.
Knowing each other for years – directly – and being connected to each other since forever, the two had exactly the opposite roles to play to each other. In her down days, he gave hopeful speeches to her. In his down days, she would stand for him likewise. One was always leading the other. The two had a spectacular way of existing in each other’s lives.
The two talked about their lives. Their stories. Their moments of happiness and how they missed each other in different times. The two shared all the details about their unparallel lives.
He slightly moved close to her and put his arm around her shoulder. She sneaked in him and tilted her head on his shoulder. This is not even a shoulder, she thought while resting.
After sipping tea, he lit a cigarette. One cigarette at a time for the two. They exchanged turns and talked about their past. The past was not a haunting story for them anymore. It was passed. Long gone. They made fun of their past traumas and how bad moments shaped their lives to this.
After all, the two were sitting there in the park in a good sun with a nice grass under her feet. The two were having a good time. Both were well settled in their careers and had a joint account too. For a future destination to travel together. The money was there, enough for a long local trip or a short foreign trip, but the two kept on delaying it due to different domestic reasons.
He kissed her forehead from time to time. Arranged her hair behind her ear. Never missed a chance to touch her. They kept talking. Argued. Fought too. Did all the coupled things.
Before sunset, after it was getting too cold, she stood up. He too. They packed things and both started walking towards the parking. Towards another short break. They will meet again. Next week. Here on the same bench till the end of the winters.
He stayed and looked at her while she reversed her car and left. The new car. She finally had one last year and it is as impeccable as her. He stood there watching her and then her car and then nothing.
He stood there a little longer and tried to remember her. Was she there? Did he actually talk to her? He tried to remember the whole conversation, like he remembered the first conversation in the secluded park. He looked into his hand and tried to remember and feel if his hand held her hand, touched her hair, her ear, her cheek just a little back? He tried to remember the kiss he gave her on the cheek just before she left.
He stood there till darkness. Smoked two more cigarettes in the complete existential crises. The headache was pinching more and more. He was total clueless about his present – the future – there in the parking lot.
He pulled his phone and checked the last messages and the call he made on the bench. He looked at the screen for some seconds and then smirked. Perhaps. The whole existence is an illusionary delusion.
For you, a thousand times over.
For me, never.