And when we were finally alone in the room and you sat on the bed and gestured for me to come. I climbed on the fed, facing you, sat on your lap, legs spread on both sides, on my knees, hands around your neck, over your shoulders. Yes, a scene from the movie. But what I remember is how you hugged me. How you rested your head on my chest. How I know this moment meant something for you in a way you’d never forget. We sat there in that cuddle hug position for I don’t know how long. That was my favourite hello, my favourite way to greet someone you love. The first time. The last time with you.
Six days later when it was time to leave, everything was packed, everything checked, we were getting late but took five minutes to just cuddle in bed. Knowing this was it. Yes, we were to meet again soon. But it sucks that you have to say goodbye first to say hello again.
Before we were going to exit the room, you held me next to the door. Kissed my cheeks, my nose, my forehead. Tried to surpass my kurta’s neckline and kiss my breasts. Then, to my surprise, you kneeled down. You kissed me on my belly and then below. And then you stood up, smiled, and said, “Okay, let’s go.”
Ever since stepping out of there, checking out of that hotel, flying out of that city—nothing went as we planned.
You were supposed to meet my mother. The next time we met we were supposed to explore each other’s bodies more. We were supposed to share more trauma from our past. We were supposed to eat more fruit and fries. We were supposed to celebrate my birthday in Goa. We were supposed to go to Miniso and we were supposed to buy you a yellow shirt that actually complimented you.
And yet none of that ever happened. And yet we are now strangers. No, now we are worse. We are strangers who used to love each other.
Let it pass, I must remind myself. April is soon going to be over. There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.
I will not love again in the way I loved you. That’s okay, I’m creative, I’ll find other ways to love. And I will not be loved in the way you loved me. And isn’t that actually a good thing? You left me alone, you left me confused, abandoned. You left me shaking, you left me crying.
April is over soon. I’m letting this pass. You? Do whatever. Take care, I guess. Yes, your tenderness existed. But it lasted for a significantly shorter amount of time than needed for my heart to be satisfied.
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