this morning i got a reply to my christmas text. not from you or X or Y, but from Z. haven’t heard from him in ages. not since he told me he felt something for me and i told him i didn’t feel it back.
it’s ironic, because i’m still not interested, but three’s become a magic number, a sort of normality and now with Y gone, there’s a space. that’s coldhearted, maybe, but as soon as you realise that life’s a bitch, it has puppies. puppies that you almost certainly want to keep. and so it goes. a circle, a cycle of longing, achieving more than you dreamt of, losing a part of that achievement, longing or it back, achieving more that you dreamt of….
i, also, was a simple girl a while back, and not even that long ago at that. i had Y and he had me, but we never had enough. i would blame it on the world, blame it on the society but really it was just us. maybe if he was white or i was black it’d have turned out different, but hey, what the use of ifs?
we built a bridge between us and that was that. or rather, i built it. i couldn’t let myself love him, though i doubt that had anything to do with race at all. i was just scared of losing the freedom i strived so hard to achieve. that’s the thing – i’m independent. not just another failed feminist, not just another scarlet woman who decided that enough was enough and settled down with the guy who was the closest, giving him children, waiting for love and stability in return.
no, i couldn’t be that if i tried. so having read Z’s response and pondered about how much more articulately you’d have phrased it, i let my fingers skim over the buttons on my phone, typing a reply, a suggestive enough i was thinking we meet up, a lovingly or maybe unlovingly forceful what do you think?,. the refreshingly flirty xx.
we’ll probably go see a movie – the more outrageous, the more taboo – the better. and there may be an uncomfortable silence or a painfully brutal conversation, there may be questions or statements, possibly even nostalgia. actually, probably nostalgia. but that’s ok, cos i know that when i come back, i’ll hear your soothing voice, like warm rain pouring down on me.
and i’ll be cleansed of all my sins. in your eyes at least.