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Category Archives: Short Fiction

Mistakes

Everyone’s made mistakes. You can’t deny this and say you’ve never made one because nobody besides God is perfect. It’s human nature to make mistakes and there’s no way to avoid it, but mistakes aren’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact they’re good. They may not seem like it at the time that it happens, but they are. They’re good because learning experiences come from mistakes. The only way to learn what you did wrong and how to prevent it next time, is to do wrong. Unfortunately there are some mistakes you’ll never get the chance to correct. As much as you wish you could correct them some mistakes are permanent. These are the mistakes you need to learn from so you don’t make them again. My  biggest mistake was hurting the only girl I’ve ever been in love with and letting her go.  I’m about to tell you all the story of this mistake and what I’ve learned from it. Don’t expect a happy ending because I haven’t even got one yet, but I can see life starting to head that way but even that won’t be a happy ending, just a new beginning.
Back In 2009 I saw a girl that I’ve never seen before at school and from that moment on I knew she was what I wanted. As soon as I saw her I leaned over and asked a girl in my class who she was and she proceeded to tell me. Little did I know I’m friends with one of the new girls friends. Her friend literally told me a day before that the new girl thought I was cute. So I got her number and we texted a little bit which lead to us talking in class, well me trying to talk, but her being really shy she didn’t say much. Nothing really sprouted from this at first. Then we started talking more and more and I started developing feelings. Now, she was showing no interest really so I got involved with this other girl, and that didn’t work out well at all. When that ended the new girl started showing a little more and I mean a little interest. So of course we started communicating more, she wouldn’t chill with me or anything but we talked in class everyday. So my feelings were getting stronger and stronger throughout first semester but she still showed minimum interest in me. Since she was showing little interest I thought I’d do somethings to catch her attention. I did some questionable things that I regret, involving trying to get with her friends, kissing maybe one, maybe two of her friends. Which of course she got mad about, this showed me she at least cared a little bit.
Fourth  semester rolled around and I’m all in, I know this is the girl God sent for me it’s without a doubt who I want. She was still shy and she still got nervous around me which I found really cute. We ended up having a class together. I asked her to prom in front of the class and she thought I did it to embarrass her, so she said no and switched out of the class. After that I figured she still wasn’t interested in me so I continued messing with other girls which evidentially made her even more mad than she already was and pushed her away. We eventually got to a solid point in the relationship where both of us having feelings was established. Later on when I realized I loved her, or so I thought at the time I told her. She didn’t say it back. All her friends were telling her lies and some truths about me and also told her I wasn’t a good guy and that she should stay away. Which at that point in my life I wasn’t, I can admit that. Due to this she had lost all trust in me and didn’t believe anything I said because of my past mistakes. She had moved on shortly after and was talking to someone else. I was heartbroken and the whole second half of my senior year was ruined. I was more depressed than I had ever been. Every time I saw her I felt sick to my stomach, teary eyed, and a feeling of sadness just sat in. Every day I would attempt to talk to her and try to make things right. I’d go to her games, try to talk to her in lunch, by her locker, and text her. Nothing worked. Occasionally she would start talking to me but would remember all the wrong I did to her and change her mind quickly.
I left for college in the fall, I thought for sure all of that would be in my past and that it was done. I was wrong. I got through most of the third semester of college without talking to her and was doing fine. One weekend fourth semester I went home. I was on the way home and I heard one of the songs I showed her, every time I heard that song I thought of her, still do. So I texted her to get dinner and she was down, it was a double date with my friend and his girl. So we went to dinner and she was flirting, holding my hand, and telling me she missed me. That night ended and I asked her to hangout the next night and she was down again, so her, her friend, and I went to eat where her friend’s boy worked. After he got off and we got done eating we drove around and she told me she still loved me. Of course I still loved her so I told her I still loved her too. They ended up needing a place to stay so they stayed with us two. I had never been happier  than I was that night just holding her. So we got up early the next morning and I left for Delhi. She didn’t talk to me much that weekend hardly at all actually, so I asked what was up, she told me she didn’t mean anything she said when we hung out and to leave her alone. All that just ripped from me. Being told you’re loved and having it ripped from you is one of the worst feelings ever. I was so depressed I took a week off from college just so I’d be home because I didn’t want to be by myself. She told me I needed to move on and there was no chance of us happening and that she didn’t love me anymore. Then a few weeks later told me she had never loved me.
We never truly dated but I was unfaithful, filling her head with lies, and not being patient with her. I hurt the girl I cared about more than anything. I learned a lot though from the mistakes of this relationship. First, you have to give people and relationships time, some people are slow to open up and you have to respect that. Don’t just assume they don’t like you because they have their walls up. Second, everyone deserves someone that’s faithful if you don’t have intentions of being faithful don’t waste their time. Third, fight for those you love and let them know you care every chance you get. You never know when you might lose them. Fourth, always be honest to the person you’re in a relationship with, they will find out the truth, and it’s going to be better for you if they hear the truth from you first. Last, never depend on someone else for your happiness. Doing this gives the other person too much power in the relationship and they will abuse it. Rely on God and yourself for your happiness.
It’s been almost 7 years since then and every time I come home I end up seeing her wherever I go. I talk to her occasionally but it’s just checking up. I know it’s over and I’m okay with it. I have gotten over being hurt and feeling the depression I had once felt by filling my heart with God’s love and letting him lead me down the right path. With God I feel uplifted and like a new person. I know she wasn’t the one God has sent for me and if she is I know he’ll lead me to her again. I just pray she finds someone who treats her better than I ever did, which shouldn’t be hard. She’ll probably see this scrolling through twitter or her friends will send it to her making fun of me. I’ll probably get judged by many people especially ones who know  who this is about, but so be it. Everyone has that someone that has a hold on them and that they’ll always love and she was it for me. I just wanted to make the story of my toughest relationship public so hopefully someone who may be going through the same thing or has gone through the same thing knows they’re not alone.


 P.S.  It’s just a  Fiction  with a lil bit of true incidents.

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Posted by on December 21, 2017 in Short Fiction

 

Muffled: A Short Story

“Mr. Rohit?”

The boy paused, his attention entirely undivided as he studied the edge of the wooden desk before him, running his hand along it and repeatedly tilting his head so as to better examine it from several angles. Just barely over the threshold of detection was a source of sound which manifested itself as a blurry, moving blob in the topmost part of his peripheral, the rest of his visual field filled with the dark shine of expensive, government-owned wood.

“Mr. Rohit is my father,” he almost said, eventually resolving that he lacked the humility to cop to such a cliche phrase and directed his eyes from the edge of the desk upward with a sadistically deliberate slowness. The boy was only barely able to notice a reaction to his lack of enthusiasm before making eye contact with the some four-odd foot-tall troll-person; he blinked twice, boringly redirecting his attention back to the desk edge painted with its many black grooves and imperfections, devoting to this transition an equal measure of slothfulness as he had in directing his attention away from it. He understood that to look away from the man behind the desk too quickly might give some indication of nervousness or concern, and hesitation perhaps if too slowly. In his desire to appear apathetic and uninvolved, he resumed his amateur study of woodworking.

“Mr. Rohit?”

The temperature of the office seemed to have been rising steadily over the short period of ten minutes. Was this how torture tactics worked?

“I need you to look at me, young man,” the Dean said through pursed lips. “This is not a joke.”
The boy sighed inaudibly and looked down as the small, square enclosure which was the dean’s office began to make him feel uneasy, cracking under the impending stress of claustrophobia and cold sweat.

“What?” the boy asked, speaking for the first time without raising his head, making no effort to hide his irritation. “Why am I here?”

“You are here,” the Dean began, “to answer to some very serious allegations made against you by a group of your peers. Within the context of recent disciplinary developments, your guilt is not an, ehm… inconceivable possibility; I am sure you know Mrs. Malhotra, the geometry teach—

“Are you listening to me, Mr. Rohit?” he asked more forcefully this time as he noticed the boy’s head begin to droop once again. No response issued from the lanky, slouched adolescent, a master of the art of sleeping while sitting, despite never having learned how to do so with his eyes open (though this not due to a lack of effort—he had, quite literally, lost a fair amount of sleep over the whole thing). After a brief interlude of silence, five stubby fingers and a sweaty, fat palm softly nudged the boy’s shoulder, who awoke with a start at the slightest hint of stimulus and wiped drool from the corner of his mouth with his right arm.

“Are you paying attention, Mr. Rohit? You need to wake up.”

“No, I’m not paying the fuck attention,” the boy flared, staring up at the pig-human with bloodshot eyes, an embodiment of that queer phenomenon whereby the transition from sleepiness to anger occurs with alarming speed. “I’m tired as all hell, and you keep talking up a goddamn storm instead of explaining why I’m here. I have classes to be in. Just spit it the fuck out already, won’t you?”

The chubby figure behind the desk hesitated, and what little flesh the boy could distinguish as the Dean’s face appeared to soften briefly; thereafter followed repetitive contractions of his dime-sized nostrils and an expression of suspicion, perhaps even a little anger.

“Are you high, boy?” the Dean blurted out, leaving his mouth slightly ajar in an expression of shock after he finished the question. It was understood by both parties that the Dean had taken notice of the circumcorneal redness, strings of drool, and lack of affect which indicated that Suraj was far less capable than he thought he was, at least at the moment; moving into a state of light panic and looking around, presumably to make sure nobody was listening, the Dean made movements that the boy could only interpret as checking to see if his office had been bugged. Had these people truly never dealt with a stoned student before?

“What are you thinking?” he whispered sharply, leaning over and casting anxious glances at his office door, presumably making sure he was not being watched or listened to; it was clear that the Dean was uncomfortable with the position he was in. Suraj laughed.

“I’m on some new medication. I just started today and it’s got me a bit droopy. Call my doctor and check for yourself if you’re really that paranoid.”

Multiple pops, cracks, and clanks signaled the rise of this not-quite-skinny, not-quite-fat man from his office chair, intense enough to be detected by Suraj as a sequence of vibrations moving from the floor beneath him to the bones in his legs and feet. The Dean prompted further laughter from the boy as his stout, chubby figure waddled towards him with surprising agility and vigor.

“You’re lying, Mr. Rohit,” the Dean said through closed teeth, now standing over the boy and taking several short whiffs of his gray hooded sweater. He paused and bent over Suraj’s shoulder, taking deeper inhalations and giving them adequate time to digest.

“I can smell it on you, Suraj. You smell like dope,” he concluded with confidence, electing to resume an upright posture once more in light of his discovery. The boy half-expected that he might place his hands on his hips and stare off into the distance dramatically; instead, he paced back towards the backside of the desk and dropped his plump bottom onto the leather cushion (which issued a high-pitched scream in response), rickety and in desperate need of repair after years of excessive load-bearing.

“I will call in the resource officer in a heartbeat if you do not believe I am serious about this. Are you going to stop lying to me, young man? Do I need to call Officer?”
“I’m not lying to you,” Suraj said unconvincingly. “I don’t have any dope.”

He truly wasn’t, and he really didn’t: What the the Dean was smelling was resin, which he had liberated from his bowl with the aid of an aggressive, hour-long ass-fucking with a bobby pin and subsequently smoked a fuck-ton of prior to embarking on his academic pursuits for the day. He hadn’t had any pot, unfortunately, but with it being 4/20 he would be god-damned if he didn’t find a way to get high somehow; despite hating the cliche nature of stoner culture, he felt that he could at least observe this small tradition, which would also offer the benefit of intoxicating him. Suraj noticed that the Dean’s face had taken the form of a ripening tomato, and that he appeared to be angrily holding his breath for some reason.

“Listen,” the vermilion ripple of flesh started, exhaling hard as he did so and spraying pieces of saliva from his lips in the process. “Do not insult my intelligence. You are here because four individuals have implicated you in a very serious instance of vandalism which took place yesterday, in the East Wing, near the end of the school day. You’re familiar with Mrs. Malhotra? … Right… I have here,” he started, pausing as he opened a desk drawer above his lap, slid it towards him and started rummaging through the papers within.

Suraj had time enough to sketch a brief plan of action in his mind as the administrator flipped through pages of God-knows-what, removing several sheets and holding them in his left hand to make room for more effective and efficient searching with his right one. After a minute or two, he finally closed it—taking particular care not to slam the drawer—turning on his swivel chair to face Suraj again as he concluded that whatever he had been attempting to locate was not to be found therein. The Dean’s next best guess was the uppermost of three large filing cabinets, stacked vertically, centimeters from his left knee and leg; after nearly twenty seconds of angrily biting his lower lip and rearranging multiple stacks of invisible documents, he pulled a tan manila folder from beneath other the desk and placed it on his desk, open.

“Right… I have here, three— no, four— disciplinary referrals here under your name, all written by Mrs. Malhotra herself,” he said very quickly, licking his middle finger and sliding four pieces of paper off the top of the stack towards Suraj. He reversed their orientation in the process by twisting his wrist without lifting his saliva-topped appendage, his finger making a gesture in the form of a letter C, so that Suraj need not attempt to read the documents upside-down, which he very well could have done.

“It’s barely September, and each one of these reprimands have been issued in the last three weeks. If you are going to try to convince me that it is just acoincidence—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Suraj said, just now processing parts of the conversation which had happened a minute or two ago. “Are you accusing me of vandalism, did you say? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well,” the Dean began, clearing his throat and visibly uncomfortable once more. Though slightly amused by the reproach demonstrated by a figure of authority, Suraj did not laugh, well aware that this situation had the potential to fuck him good and proper if serious words like vandalism were being thrown around.

“Yesterday, during Mrs. Malhotra’s planning period—that is the last hour of the school day—someone…” he started, heaving a large sigh. “Well… urinated in her filing cabinets, destroying a large amount of homework to be graded and other paperwork. She’s extremely upset.”

The boy allowed his jaw to drop dramatically, adopting an expression of ultimate shock, completely at a loss for words. Taking note, the Dean hesitated briefly before resuming his reading of the charges.

“Regardless… Because you’ve been specifically named by not one, not two, notthree, but FOUR individuals, plus the extremely recent history of conflict with this teacher in particular, you are, quite frankly, our ‘number one suspect,’ if you will—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Suraj interjected incredulously, shaking his head rapidly as he began to comprehend the insane nature of his early-morning office visit. He let his body go limp, deflating into the chair as far backwards as he was able, a tribute incarnate to anti-marijuana television advertisements circa 2005. He felt it was unfair that he could not laugh at the absurdity of the situation, as he would have in any other situation in which he was not stoned nor the “number one suspect.”

“Now, Suraj, we just—”

“No, no. Hold on a fucking second. You called me down here because you think I pissed,” he said, pausing dramatically for a brief moment. “In my fucking geometry teacher’s desk? Why in God’s name do you think I did it? Because some fucking group of four kids in a school with sixty cliques and thirty fucking gangs says I did? Because some angry bitch has been too busy trying to gut me that she can’t grade papers in a timely fucking fashion? Fuck you. This whole school is one big fucking brick toilet. You, sir,” he said, intentionally drawing out the last word sarcastically, “can suck a cock, and you—”

He turned, now facing the third person in the room for the first time during the meeting; an Punjabi girl of nineteen or twenty, to whom Suraj had never actually spoken directly despite having seen her every day for three years, rotated nervously to face the boy whose angry outburst had quite visibly frightened her. Suraj’s feelings of pressure and vulnerability—which had been present since the word “vandalism” was used—had only served to make the boy more unpredictable; he had hit the breaking point.

“Fuck you, too, Komal. As if I can’t fucking see what you’re saying,” he said. “How many goddamn people do you know that can’t hear or can’t read lips either? You are a translator. You will translate what I say, as I say it. Read my hands,” he started, violently molding them into different gestures and movements at an almost imperceptible speed.

“Fuck yourself,” he finished with a grand flourish of his arms, resisting the urge to spit in her face for taking advantage of his inability to speak for himself.

“I don’t care if you don’t ‘like swear words,’ I don’t care if it was your mother’s dying wish that you never speak a naughty word in any fucking language, be it sign or fucking Punjabi,” he continued. “If I sign a ‘bad word,’ you fuckingtranslate the bad word. If you fucking censor me again, Komal, I’ll hop over this fucking chair and break your goddamn neck, which I have no trouble doing on my own. You’re all pieces of shit,” he ended dramatically, making sure to highlight each obscenity with both slower and more deliberate hand movement before proceeding to rise to his feet once again.

He spoke aloud with his actual voice, garbled and throaty without the ability to moderate his speech with the aid of hearing. He could see the effect this perverse sound—compounded with his sarcastic enthusiasm, in the form of a menacing smile—had on the Dean, who took no care to avoid flinching in response. This was the first time he had attempted to speak with his actual vocal chords in several years, preferring sign language for the majority of the time he had been deaf and therefore the majority of his life; to speak aloud now, especially stoned on resin, was difficult and emotional for Suraj, though it was important that his act be convincing.

Komal, with straight black hair down to her ass, was crying by this point and extremely confused as to how her workday had taken such a terrible turn. Suraj saw her cast a desperate glance at the Dean for some form of support, and slowly break and begin to cry as she realized that she was alone in this conflict, as the Dean had absolutely no clue what was happening; he had only observed a sequence of aggressive hand gestures, including the violent miming of a blowjob, followed by a near-unintelligible garble.

The brain behind the desk began to realize that there was a situation occurring, his gaze oscillating rapidly between Suraj and the Translator, asking for information. It was raw, unadulterated comedy; Suraj would have erupted with giggles had he not been so angry. Komal wiped her nose on her sleeve and then, looking down at her elbow, held her face with the crook of her right thumb and index finger above her lips and sobbed lightly into her palm. Suraj watched the Dean’s expression from confusion to concern, asking several times, “What did he say?”

Even with her mouth exposed, it was difficult for the hard-of-hearing non-conformist to read her lips while she was crying. Suraj could make out the word “break,” and could only assume that she had snitched on him for threatening her, though technically he could not be certain and did not really care at the moment—the Dean, on the other hand, did not seem to think that threatening a faculty member was much of a joke. He immediately uprooted himself from his chair and moved quickly for the door, taking exceptional careto slam it; Komal continued to cry into her palm silently in the corner.

Suraj felt the rhythmic thump-thump of the Dean’s stomps grow less intense and pause before beginning its return to full amplitude in a dramatic crescendo of suspense which lasted approximately thirty seconds, finally culminating in a sort of anti-slam—the sudden and powerful swinging open of the door—which thrust a gust of air through the room and blew Komal’s hair over her left shoulder, which she fixed quickly in between sobs. Irate and accompanied by the RO, the Dean began speaking loudly and directly to the cop, pointing at Suraj and making large arm movements with an unreasonably angry expression on his face. Suraj believed him to be overreacting, personally figuring that this woman did not have a place in education regardless if she was not capable of withstanding insults from a deaf teenager whose obscenities comprised a lexicon with a whopping length of five words.

The Dean was cooling down slightly, though still clearly very angry that Komal was Suraj made out the words “drugs” and “threats,” as well as a third one he was quite sure was “vandalism.” The resource officer was middle-aged, plain, Caucasian and red-haired, an exact opposite of the police stereotype; he looked at the delinquent with stern disappointment, staring down at Suraj past a bushy ginger mustache.

The heat was coming down, and this began to freak out the youngest member of the Sharma family—he closed his eyes in an oft-utilized stress coping mechanism, and all was quiet. He felt vibrations in the floor which indicated the movement of both the Dean and the Translator, and a dull reverberation he could only assume was a door slamming; upon opening his eyes, he was able to confirm that he was alone. The Dean, for some odd reason, had left to collect the resource officer only to leave once more.

Suraj was shocked to find that he grew rather bored very quickly. He looked at the clock on the white brick wall to his right, which read just past eight-thirty behind the once-transparent, yellowing plastic cover. A lot had transpired in less than half an hour, and the office’s sole occupant found himself studying the room in a less-than-successful attempt to pass time. In less than twenty minutes, Suraj was sound asleep, hunched over in his chair and snoring.

A piece of phlegm, saliva, or some other airway obtrusion caused a cough to issue from the slumbering teenager, which prompted him to wake with a start. He looked at the clock, noticing that an additional half hour had passed as he slept; had they forgotten about him? He could feel the shuffling of feet and commotion behind the thick door, and after five minutes, he wondered if he had been locked inside. Extending his arm, he gripped the doorknob and twisted it slightly, and, noticing no rigidity, assumed that he was, in fact, free.

He swung the heavy door open, and noticed nobody was standing outside of it. Despite this, he could ‘hear’ people doing things somewhere in the office; he stepped through the doorway into the lobby where seats for students to sit in while waiting to meet with administrators, as well as a receptionist’s desk for the ‘administrative assistant’ who handled calls for those same primarily male administrators. There Suraj observed the school staff, though there body language was peculiar and strange, and he thought he could hear several women sobbing… Had his outburst truly upset this many people? He had not even made noise.

“Look, I didn’t mean to—” he started, before pausing in confusion as he stopped to observe the scene.

The resource officer, the Dean, and several secretaries who would preferred to be called administrative assistants stood gathered around a tiny television next to the receptionist’s desk, forming a circle. Several of the women were indeed crying. Suraj was intrigued, but mostly confused, and approached the circle to see what was going on. He called out to the Dean by name for the first time, who turned around and appeared very upset and disturbed, though was not crying.

“What— What’s going on?” Suraj asked, having long ago dropped the uptight badass routine.

“Why—?”

“Just go home, Suraj. Get out of here.”

He did not ask any questions, and walked straight out of the lobby heading directly home to catch the news and find out what had saved his ass. In the years to come, he would regret his behavior that day and struggle with the fact that he had gotten off because of those two trenchcoat-wearing fuck-ups, that he almost owed them one for them putting holes in over thirty kids. His future self would furthermore commend the four assholes who had framed him for pissing in the geometry teacher’s desk; there are a lot of ways to pick on the deaf kid, but that was certainly one of the more creative ones—and he never even once felt the need to buy a gun.

 
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Posted by on November 30, 2017 in Short Fiction

 

From Pizza with Love

​I munched the cheese sandwich and forced it down my throat. It tasted like cardboard and I could literally feel it passing over to my empty stomach. My thoughts were occupied by an infuriating girl.
It had been that way since the day I met her. I could feel the tears collecting over my eyelashes. I missed her. I missed her smell. I missed her eyes. I missed her voice. Hell, I even missed the sound of her breath. It had been two solid days, since we last spoke. The two greatest things that life had given me was: her love and football. So, I tried to distract myself by indulging my body and mind with football. But football couldn’t keep her off my mind. I was out of focus the entire time I spent at the field. My teammates seemed to be disappointed with my performance, I myself felt disappointed with it, but I couldn’t help it. All my attempts to forget her ended up in vain. So I finally gave up and spent my every second of every day with her thoughts hovering my mind. Her presence made me feel alive, it made me a better version of myself. I was madly in love with her. Her eyes held a spark that no girl could possibly have. Even thinking about it made me feel alive. It made me feel sense, sense of what an idiot I was to let her go. That sense  made me feel disgusted over myself for sitting and munching a bad cheese sandwich and feeling depressed that she left me instead of trying to get her back. She was my life, how could I live without her? 
I made up my mind that I simply could not live in depression and quickly got up from the chair and walked towards the garage. I could hear my mother’s distant voice asking me what I was upto. I didn’t bother to reply, I just waved my hands at her, signalling a bye and drove the car out. It took me a while to realize that her anger on me was at its peak. I had to do something that would make her forget the anger. I tried to recall the million moments she and I shared together, searching for that one thing which will make her get out off the anger. Then, it striked to me, food. She loves eating. I wanted to make that whole apology scenario a little funny, yet it must prove my point. It must show how sorry I was. I ran through the events that happened that day, from eating a sandwich to feeling depressed to thinking about her eyes to the spark that made me feel sense. She encouraged me into that and suddenly, I felt how lucky I was to have met her. I could not let her go and I will not. My mind got out of the thought process and started jotting down the endless list of food items she loved the most. I tried to pick a few which held an emotional or memorable meaning to both of us and the obvious answer was, pizza. Our first date was to a pizza place. I recalled the way her face lit up when the waiter had placed the dish on our table. She savoured each and every mouth of it, her face etched with a smile throughout the entire evening. I even remember how she politely thanked the waiter for serving us. I fell for her madly, that day.
 I drove my way to the same pizza place and placed an order for a customized pizza. I asked them to add all the toppings I knew she’d love. I payed for the pizza and left the place. I then drove to an English Café known for it’s cheese cakes. She was the one who brought me there first and I instantly got addicted to the taste of the cheese cake. I bought two of those and placed them in the passenger seat of my car, next to the pizza box. I took a pen out of the dashboard and opened the pizza box. The smell of the pizza filled my nostrils, it was wonderful and I was sure that  she’d love it. I wrote a ‘Sorry’ message at the inside of the opened lid and drew a heart around it. It looked perfect. I closed the box and drove my way to her house. Within minutes, I reached the street where her house was located. As I entered the street, I could see a car parked infront of her house. I then saw her parents getting into the car, followed by her brother. I silently prayed that she mustn’t go with them because then I’d have to eat the pizza and cheese cake all by myself. All my plan would go for a waste. My prayers didn’t go in vain, she stood at a distance and waved a good-bye to her family. The situation couldn’t be more perfect. I mentally did a somersault and waited for the car to leave the place. After the car left, I slowly drove towards the house and looked out for signs of other people. After few minutes of scanning the locality, I was quiet sure that she was alone. I went towards the door with the pizza and cheese cakes in my hand. I took a minute before ringing the bell to open the box and place the cheese cake on either side of the pizza. I rang the bell and the 20 seconds wait was the longest wait ever! The door opened with a click. She looked so pretty. She was dressed in a grey T-shirt and white tracks. Her eyes never failed to mesmerize me. I mentally whistled at how beautiful she looked. I quickly got out of the stance and studied her expression. It was null. I could make out nothing from it. Her eyes racked slowly towards the box in my hand and I swear that I saw a faint smile play over her lips. It was a good sign. I quickly bent on my knees and said, 
“Please forgive me. I simply can’t live without you”, and put on the best innocent smile I could. Her expression was still null. A part of me started losing hope that she’d forgive me. Just as I started thinking that all this was for a waste, her expression slowly changed to a smile and she started laughing. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. She took the pizza box from my hand and gently placed her lips on mine. The kiss was gentle and soft. I placed my hands on her waist and kissed her with equal intensity. After a while, she took her lips off mine and said, “I wouldn’t have forgiven you if it was not for the pizza”. 
“So, you love pizza more than me?”, I countered. 
“Apparently, yes.”, she replied with a mock attitudish tone.
I smiled with relief, realizing that she was back being her old self. 
“You may come in.”, she said with the same tone and turned around. 
We were back again, so I had to get back to being myself, right? I gently held her waist and lifted her, my other arm lifting her knees. She gave a squeak and started giggling. 
“Yes, let’s go in”, I replied by adapting the tone she used a while back. 
She mock glared at me and placed one of her arms around my neck, the other arm holding the pizza box. 
“I love you, you know.”, she said. 
“I love you baby.”, I replied and the kiss that followed seemed to last for hours. 
I mentally thanked the people responsible for the discovery of pizza and cheese cake, without whom my life would’ve been miserable! 

 
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Posted by on October 25, 2017 in Short Fiction

 

The Christmas kiss

“It’s cold today could we just take a walk along the city light roads before coming to my house?” Richa asked me.  

“Well yeah it’s totally fine, I don’t want us to catch a cold,” I replied being affirmative

“So meet you at Captains Cafe then, don’t keep me waiting like the last time,” she warned.

“Don’t worry, not this time,” I smirked, as I cut the call.

It was 25th of December, I had stayed back in the hostel for industrial training in a company.

 

Well, Richa was my classmate I have known her for the last three years of engineering. She was a jolly good looking girl who wore black wayfer glasses, her hairs were straight, her nose a bit pointed, her voice a pleasant one and an average student like me in the class. My roll number was just after her so every practical, assignments, presentation etc, I was to do with her. Many a time we realized we had almost same views on a matter or any topic. She helped me a lot when I had the breakup with Shruti last year. I mean she was every time around me helping, supporting and everything possible. I did not want to go back to home this vacation so we ended up applying for industrial training in a company and got selected. To say in other words she was the closest to me in college with whom I could share everything. My friends used to jokingly tease me with her, in fact, our whole class did.

 I then locked the door before going to the college bus stop. The bus came minutes later after I reached the stop. As I ascended the bus I could see only a few faculties and some scholars sitting scattered on the bus. I took the last corner of the bus for sitting.

One hour later I reached the city and one by one passenger began to get off the bus. Then the conductor shouted, “Captains Cafe stop” for the passengers.

I got up from the seat and started to walk towards the door of the bus. I could see through the window Richa sitting on the bus stand and tapping the screen before putting the phone on her ears to call. By the time driver had hit the brakes and the bus came to a halt. I stepped down from the bus when Richa saw me and cut the call.

“Ah! 5 minutes late today I was calling you,” Richa said feeling good not having to wait much today.

“It’s the driver’s fault, not mine,” my shivering voice said as I could feel the outside low temperature after stepping out from the bus.

“Your excuses every time,” she responded and laughed.

“I guess you need a hot cup of coffee,” she noticed I was shivering.

“Yeah it should be perfect” I replied regretting not wearing the overcoat and preferring the leather jacket.

We walked through the footpaths as we discussed our report of ongoing industrial training. Today  I could see her more happy than usual. She had put on her beanie cap, the white watch I gifted on her last birthday, a white Nike shoe, a bomber black jacket and white jeans. I bet she had a lot of fashion sense.

As we entered the CCD for coffee we saw more crowd than usual as it was Christmas night. We placed ourselves at an empty table in a corner and ordered two cappuccinos.

 

“So what will we shop for today’s dinner?” she asked excitedly

We had planned to make ourselves a dinner and spend the night in her home as her parents were out for a week.

“Well I guess we will take some  Paneer, and some candles if u would like it to make a candle lit dinner” I laughed at my idea.

“Sound’s great and yeah I am dying to eat your Paneer, your roommate told me about your cooking skills you present at their birthday parties,” her eyes gleamed.

“Haha is it ?” I replied as I sipped a drink from my cup and feeling proud of my cooking skills.

Just then a memory flashed 2 years back when Shruti used to come over to my house and I used to make  Paneer for her and she loved eating it.  She used to say; “I hope you will continue making such dishes after our marriage too”, at which I used to laugh and reply, “Anything for you, my dear” and pull her nose.

 

“What are you smiling at?” Richa gave me perplexed look as she noticed me smiling like a fool for the last 30 seconds.

“Oh! Nothing just some memories” I replied getting back to my senses.

”Did you bring some of your grass?” she whispered to me with a cunning smile.   

“Shh! Keep it down, not here” I warned her as the boy sitting next to the table might have understood what she said and turned to us.

“So if you are done with the cup lets go, we got some shopping to do,” I advised Richa.

We got up and she paid the bills. She never allowed me to pay the bills saying, “You are a hosteller you will face money problems soon, keep it I’m there for you”. Well, it’s not that I liked spending and eating on her money but I felt a little guilty for her spending so much money on me. She was the single child of her parents and her parents were a higher official in government thinking of that I comforted myself.

As we walked through the tank showcased on the middle of the city, we noticed decorations around, Santas walking around the cities, Christmas trees planted in front of the shops, shopping malls with 60-70% sale hoardings, people out for shopping and buying gifts. The city was fully on the swing for Christmas. We reached the city center and went for the milk product section where we bought half a kilo Paneer. We then went to a mall to get some .

Crossing the female section before reaching the grocery section Richa’s eye’s caught the attention of a trench coat which was put on sale. She dragged me into the ladies section for accompanying her. It was a blue collared trench coat with cotton blending and a solid design.

 

“Hold my purse before I try it on” she demanded.

Well go to shopping with girls and enter the clothes section they will always demand you to hold onto their purse. Mother, sister, ex-girlfriend, and now her. I guess it will continue with my wife too if I go shopping with her in near future.

“ok sure” I replied having no other option.

As the saleswoman helped her to get into that trenchcoat it fitted her perfectly. She was around 5’8’’ and her waist might be 24 I guessed. It was as if it was made perfectly for her.

“How do I look?” she asked looking herself in the mirror.

“Perfect beauty” I winked, my usual habit of complementing Shruti whenever we went shopping.

Oh, why am I thinking so much of her she is gone, it is past forget everything about her and move on my brains said. But deep inside my heart, I knew I had a soft corner room for her.

“Well, how much is it?” I asked her as she was telling the saleswoman to pack it for her.

“3500 rupees only,” she said as we walked towards the grocery section.

“It’s on me” the words came out of my mouth. I guess I wanted to seriously take out Shruti from my mind and everywhere and I found that gifting the trenchcoat to Richa would help me. Well I know I may sound foolish but I saw a way of overcoming it. My scholarships were in last month and my pockets were full so I did not hesitate a moment before saying those words.

“You need not do it my dear why waste your pocket money on me?” she said as she pulled my nose playfully.

“Well see seriously you are the only close one here and I spend a lot of time with you, you are always there for me and I just don’t know how to thank you so please accept my gift as a token of love from my side,” I said to her with a deep tone. I guess she might have understood what I was trying to say.

“Thank you so much my dear” saying this she hugged me.       

After shopping, we went to the nearby Christmas fair where we took a ride on the Ferris wheel, swing boat, and the teacups. Needless to say, I was dragged into every ride with her because I am very afraid of them and ended up catching the bars tightly till the end of every ride as she laughed at me.

I wish Shruti was here to hold my hands like she does in every ride.

 

“I never knew you were such a nincompoop” Richa laughed saying as we came out of the fair.

“I am only afraid of the rides and nothing else,” I said feeling a bit insulted to her.

“Really? What about our department’s HOD? Last month I had to accompany you when you had to get a signature from him.” She teased me.

“Alright, it’s only rides and HOD ok and nothing else” I replied and started walking faster.

She continued laughing, “Ok baba now don’t be angry or else who will make me tasty  Paneer” saying it she pulled my cheeks.

Shruti did the same sometimes pulling my cheeks, sometimes my nose when I was angry. Am I missing her? Should I call her? What might she be doing now? Is she thinking about me too?

 Oh, wait is she still in my head? Why is she still in my head when a more beautiful girl is with me? Richa has got more fashion sense in her, her pointers are far better than Shruti etc so why still think of her?

I was annoyed and perplexed as I stopped by to buy a packet of cigarettes from a nearby retailer.

“So how many cigarettes did you finish up today?” Richa asked as we started walking again on the streets.

“Hardly four I guess” I replied as I counted on my fingers.

“Aj, see if you are still on to her and smoking to overcome it please stop your smoking. Think of your parents, they have high expectations on you, spending this much money on you for studying………” as she was saying, I stopped her in between.

“Ah! Stop it I know, I have to think of my parents, get placed in a good company, and bla blah blah” I was tired of listening to her same speeches every day.

Whatsoever she says she was like my second caretaker after my mom. In today’s world, you would feel very lucky if you got such a good friend like her who thinks about you from every perspective. 

We both were now used to it, she telling me to stop smoking and me telling her to stop saying that. Talking and joking around we reached the block of her house. It was around 5 minutes walk away now to her house. Her block was silent, it was a government colony and most of the people went to their granny’s for the Christmas vacations. Only some of the street lights were glowing others were broken. We walked through the lane as we heard dogs barking at a distance.

“It’s extreme cold tonight,” she said as she rubbed her hands and blew hot air from her mouth in it.

“Yeah, it is,” I said as I held the shopping bags in my left hand and the right hand inside my jacket.

“I wish someone would hold my hand as we walk through and keep me warm,” she said looking at the cold sky.

“Haha then find a good boyfriend” I replied as I failed to notice that she was indicating me to hold her hands.

“Oh I think you can call Anshul to hold your hands he will keep you very warm” I teased her. Anshul was our class topper who always answered to every question asked by the professor and his hairs were always dipped in full of hair oil and were separated in half. Richa just hated him so I never missed a chance to tease him with her.

“Don’t say his name” she hit hard on my right shoulder with her hands, more depressed of me failing to notice her indications rather than me saying Anshul’s name.

“Ouch alright you got tough hands” I reacted as we reached the gate of her house.

She opened the door and I sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette.
“Careful with the ashes put it on the ash tray this is not your hostel” she knew of my cigarette smoking habits as I threw up ashes here and there. Last time I came to her home, I ended up throwing ashes on the carpet.

She went to her room for changing. As I smoked I switched to VH1 on the television. It’s been long since I watched TV. The chainsmoker – closer was on the playlist. I smoked as I slowly kept nodding to the song beat.

“Hey, shall we start? It’s already 9:30 pm and it’s getting late” she said from behind as she tied a bun on her head. She had changed into a crewneck sweater and shorts.

“Wait up almost finished smoking, want a puff?” I said jokingly.

She came up and sat by me “ok let me try it”

“Are you sure?” I questioned as I did not expect that.

“Come on show me how you inhale it” she insisted

“You just take it in your mouth and pull it before you inhale it and let it go” I demonstrated as I released the smoke from my mouth.

She then took the cigarette from my fingers and inhaled it, immediately she started coughing. I laughed,

“Haha want to try more? Try once more” I teased as I handed over her a water bottle which was on the tea table.

She handed me the cigarette before drinking water from the bottle. I could notice the pink lipstick mark on the white filter of the cigarette.

 

 

“Wait let me try once more” she insisted

She tried two three times before perfecting to release smoke without coughing.

“How do you even get addicted to this things?” she questioned.

“You will not understand it,” I laughed.

“Oh what about the joint you promised to bring today?” she added.

“Yeah, two joints” as I took them out from the inner pocket of the jacket.

She decided to try on some weed tonight before sleeping. She had heard a lot from me about  the dreams you get after smoking one. So she finally decided to try it on today. We had been planning for this a long ago.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked still perplexed whether I should do it with her alone in her room. It was not that I wanted to take a chance on her or something, it’s just that she insisted so much on it that I had to do it.

“Daar ke agge jeet hai” she repeated the lines of the mountain dew advertisement and smelled the joint.

 

I then got myself freshened up and we both spent the next hour preparing dinner.

“Hmm it tastes too good !” she exclaimed tasting the gravy with a spoon.

“Can’t wait to dig into it,” she added as she started taking out the plates from the drawers.

The next 10 minutes we spent on putting the table and the plates. Finally, we ended up lighting the candles.

 

 

 

“So it’s over let’s get on with the joint before digging here,” she was known for the fact that you get more hungry after smoking weed. So we decided to smoke on her terrace. We switched off the lights before leaving the dining room. The room was now only lit only with the tables from the dining table.

I lighted my flashlight on the phone as we ascended to her terrace.

I gave her one and lighted her joint before lighting mine. She coughed at the first two puffs before she started normalizing.

As we sat on her terrace we could see the far city lights and vehicles going in line. The sound of the traffic and horns were heard dimly.

“Life has become a race isn’t it?” her words broke the silence of the terrace.

“Yeah you get up every day, go to classes, make notes, mug up for exams, do your assignments and this goes on and on every semester” I replied with frustration in my life of engineering.

“Everywhere you go you are judged by your pointer’s. You apply for internships in IIT’s they ask a cutoff of 8 points. You want to sit for good companies they ask you about your pointers. Pointer pointer and pointer everywhere !! Uhh! I’m fed up now”

“Engineering ne hamari le li”  I replied as I blew out a smoke ring from my mouth.

“Hey how did you do that?” she asked amazed

I smoked some more before releasing two smoke rings in one blow.

“Please teach me” she insisted.

“Okay so first take up some smoke, don’t inhale. Make your mouth and lips a bit rounder and just push it from inside like this” I taught her as if I was a pro vap king.

 

She tried but only laminar smoke came from her mouth. After trying for 4-5 times a thin unusual smoke ring came out before it unwinded up to the laminar flow.

“See see I almost made it” she shouted at her achievement. She tried doing that for 3-4 times before the light reached the tip of her filter.

“Oh it’s finished” she glommed.

“It’s all right you can try it with cigarettes after some time” I consoled her.

“I would never have enjoyed that much with Shruti as I am having now with you.” the words slipped from my mouth.

“You still remember her don’t you?” she asked looking into my eyes.

“Well I try a lot harder but still she keeps coming, I just don’t know why” I replied as I took out a cigarette to light one.

“Time heals everything” she consoled me tapping on my shoulder.

“I am now just going on with the flow?” I said frustrated as I inhaled a puff.

“Don’t worry I am always with you in both of your good and bad times” she consoled me once again putting her head on my shoulders and taking the cigarette off my fingers and smoking.

Adding, she said, “I tell you this never go with the flow. Fight for what you deserve. Life is tough, the world is hard. The world will push you to the corner and keep on torturing. It is you who have to get up and fight. Fight for what you believe and you want to live for.”

I looked her over my left shoulder she was still looking to me. I never expected her to say that kind of words.

“I think the weed hit you,” I said

“No I am in my sense, I am just bringing you to the real world of sense” she babbled. I knew she was hitting on weed. Her words and her voice said me everything.

“Come on now let’s go for dinner now it’s getting cold here” I pleaded her.

“Ok I’m hungry now” she laughed

We got up and started to descend down the stairs. I could notice her going from left to right while walking. I caught her by her waist before she could walk any further. I just did not want any mishap to happen when her parents were away. Step by step we finally reached the ground floor before opening the door.

The candles were still lit and burned to half. Only the candles were the source of light in the room. I closed back the door before I took her to the sofa.

“Shall we watch TV a bit before eating? It’s Saturday today my favorite show will be broadcasting soon” she pleaded

“But I thought you were hungry” I answered

“Don’t worry I will manage” she replied with a very wide smile.

I knew she was high now by looking at her smile.

She got up and switched the remote, she pressed it again. The TV did not switch ON.

“Oh, this bloody electricity” she cursed.

“So now shall we proceed for dinner then?” I requested as I got up from the sofa.

She caught hold of my left hand before pulling me to sit back with her. I bounced back and almost ended up going near her face. I now knew the joint started hitting me a bit.

“Aj I got to tell you something important,” she said looking into my eyes and still holding my hands.

In the dim light of the candles I could see her taking off her glasses, her eyes shined, her eyes looked more beautiful which I failed to notice with the glasses above it. I just did not know whether it was the effect of weed but I was finding her everything beautiful.

She continued, ”Aj you see you are someone I have been close to from the last 3 years of my life. You see I am the only child of my working parents and I just get bored. I don’t have any good friends nor do I have any siblings. All the secrets I share is only with you. I could just give up my everything on you……….”

“I think you are a little high today Richa” I stopped her.

“Do you think I am joking? Look into my eyes, just look it,” as she came closer to my face.

The shadow of her face was so close to mine that I could feel her breathe on my face. The only space between us was the breadth of our nose. All I could see was the light brown pupil of her eyes shining from the candle light. This was it, our lips touched each other. We locked both of our fingers together. The void between my fingers was filled with hers. I pressed my lips against hers. She started to bite my lips with her teeth and I bit hers. She found a pathway to insert her tongue into mine and we were locked. It was so intense that we were in no mood to look backward now. She held me by my neck and me by her waist. I slowly leaned on her as she slowly leaned herself on the sofa. I could feel the warmth of her breast on my chest. I was completely upon her now.

 

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 “Are you really doing this?” The inner heart said me. But my brains were completely enjoying the intense lust of the moment. My heart showed me of the same moment I had with Shruti years back. My brains said me to forget her and carry on with Richa now. Again my heart showed a glimpse of Shruti as I promised her to always love her after our first smooch. My brain kept on defending my heart.

Fighting between my brain and heart I chose to go with my heart. What if I am no longer in a relationship with her? But yeah I still love her. No matter how much I try to overcome it, she will never be taken out off my heart. It was as if she had her name was scratched with a stone in my heart.

 

 

I immediately took my lips off her.

“I am really, really sorry I can’t do this. Please, I am really sorry! I can’t explain it ” all those words came out of my mouth jumbled as I did not know what to say. Richa kept giving a puzzled look on me as she too did not realize what happened just now between the two of us.

Taking my jacket which was on the tea table, I walked out of the room as the wind came gushing and blowing out the candles before I closed the door.

 

 

 
4 Comments

Posted by on August 3, 2017 in Short Fiction

 

When I Met God

Yesterday, I sneaked out of the house just to have a smoke. Like always I climbed on to the roof. I loved looking at the stars and the moon while I took my puffs. Yesterday was different because I would have unexpected company.
There are three ways to get in the roof. One is to use of a ladder, the second is to grab a ledge and pull yourself up and the third is to climb up the tree adjacent to my home and get on to the roof from there with the help of an over hanging branch. The ladder would be too noisy and I wasn’t feeling like using the ledge so I climbed the tree. When I got onto the roof, I saw someone sitting on the corner. I wasn’t really surprised meeting a stranger on the roof in the middle of the night and I rarely get spooked.
So I asked “Hey, what are you doing up on my roof?”
She replied calmly “Same as you, came here for a smoke, Do you have a light?”
I handed the match box to her. I took out a cigarette and placed on my lips.
She looked at me and said “You should quite smoking those, it will kill ya?” I was a little surprised I said “Really?” She continued “Try this, it is a lot healthier.”
She lit up a roll, took a drag and handed it to me, I too took a drag and so we went back and forth till we smoked up the whole joint. I must say, it was really good stuff.I don’t know how long we sat there enjoying the trip.
She took out a bottle of water from the bag next to her and offered, I took the bottle out of her hands and gulped down the water. I handed the bottle to her and said “Thanks”.
I extended my hand and introduced myself to her “I am Rahul, whats your story?”
She shook my hand and in an instant I knew who she was, then she let my hand go and said “From time to time I visit, this planet, like I do so many others. Like you, there are a few to whom I revealed my existence.”
I smirked “Oh, the whole world is aware of your existence. Except for may be the Atheists”.
She smiled and said “You have me wrong. They all have me wrong. It is the Atheists who have the right answer.”
I looked at her puzzled. She continued “You are stubbornly trying to understand what I am or trying to quantify me into concepts that you can currently understand. When you ask an Atheist who is God? He will give you the right answer. He doesn’t know. Neither does anybody, including you? When I showed you who I was,  your mind quickly tried to wrap my existence around a concept that you were familiar with and that was God. Isn’t God just a concept, isn’t he as fictional as Santa Claus as long as there isn’t any quantifiable proof. The existence of the North Pole doesn’t prove the existence of Santa Claus as much as the existence of the universe or life, proving the existence of God.”
I was still confused at the contradiction that was in front of me. “Who are you then?”
She replied “Your mind has the right idea of visualizing me as a female. Isn’t the word female synonymous with mystery? so Label me a mystery if you must or don’t label me at all”.
It became very clear that I don’t know anything, these were things that was beyond me, but I still had to ask “Why me?”
She replied “Why Not? Again, you need reasons, for questions that have none, I am sure your trusted logic is failing you. It is okay not everything has to make sense”.
I asked her “Is it okay that I still believe that you are God?”
She laughed and replied “Choice is yours, expectations isn’t. Bye.”
She disappeared as I whispered “Bye”.

 
4 Comments

Posted by on July 30, 2017 in Short Fiction

 

​SOME BIG SMALLTHINGS : THINGS I DO FOR LOVE

 There was this girl I really liked, back in college. We had made plans to meet for lunch. Her roommate dropped her off at the restaurantwe were supposed to meet. We had lunch and had a delightful conversation about worldly things. When it was time to leave, I told her that I could drop her back to her hostel on my motorbike. She was… is, a very joyful and charming lady, but had one flaw – she was very

practical about things. You see, the restaurant was at the center with her hostel and mine being on opposite sides. So in her words, “It

doesn’t make any sense for you to go that way and double back to your hostel” Like all men my age, who fought tooth and nail with their fathers to get the bike that they wanted, I didn’t mind driving a few extra miles even in the absence of a gorgeous pillion as

she. With her – I could go 500 miles, and I could go 500 more…

For once though (may be just for kicks) luck was on my side. A strike was declared that day

for all public transportation, which we knew nothing about. She tried hailing a couple ofautos (for the uninitiated, autos are just like

cabs, but on three wheels, with built in vibrators under each seat, and have a licence to thrill on Indian roads). None of the auto drivers were willing to drive,

owing to the strike. A single one who did agree to drive, was charging 4x the usual fare. I told

her, “It doesn’t make sense to spend so much money… You’ll just be encouraging them to exploit others”.

She pointed at one auto that stood a little ahead on the road, and said “Tell you what? If That guy agrees to drive for 2x the fare or below, I’ll take it. Otherwise, you can drive me to the hostel.”

We walked up to the auto and she asked him, “How much would you charge for driving up to XYZ hostel?”

He said, “Rs. 80”.

The actual fare was around Rs 35 to Rs 40. He was cutting it close on the 2x criteria. While she was debating whether to take the

auto or not, I panicked. I took out a 100 rupee note, and told the auto driver, “I’ll give you 100 bucks not to drive her.”

The auto driver was quite sharp. He didn’t waste time in asking stupid questions, like “Why?”. He just snatched the note out of my

hand, and drove away. She turned to me and said, “Why the hell did

you do that for?”

I gave a sheepish grin, “I just felt like driving you back.”

By this time she had started punching me, “You’re insane! And stupid! And insane! You could have just said so! What about all that

talk of not encouraging them to exploit others?

You could have donated that money to a good cause!”

I took the fact that she was walking towards my bike and not walking away from me as a good sign, and replied “I did donate it for a good cause.” She caught my grin, and returned a goofy laugh, “You’re insane!”

 
4 Comments

Posted by on July 13, 2017 in Short Fiction

 

Part 4 – Little talks

 

It has stopped raining and the sky is starting to clear up. We’ve been walking and talking for about half an hour trying to find a place to stay for the night. The tension between us has subsided due to the running and laughing. Finally it feels like we’re back to the old old times of us hanging out. Granted ‘the old times” was just a few months ago but it feels much more than that. The feeling of being with her comes naturally. I’m at ease but at the same time excited. Like something wonderful is about to happen. “Hey do you wanna check that place out?” she asks pointing to a motel down the street. “Sure by the way, do you have any money?” I ask. “Only for the train tomorrow. Umm and I think all the ATM’s are closed by now.” she looks down worryingly. “I don’t have that much but I think I can pay for a small room.” I don’t know how we came here. Not here as in the place but here as in together along about to go into a motel together. I love any chance to be alone with her, to get to know her better but if this turns into just a one night fling I don’t want it.

We walk into the motel with a sign that says ‘OPEN FOR 24H’. There’s a short middle aged man standing behind the counter. The prices are on a paper on the counter and the only one I can afford is the single bedroom. “I can only afford the single bed one. Is it okay?” “Yeah as long as we don’t have to spend the night on the streets I’m fine. I’ll pay you back in the morning.” she looks up and smiles at me but it doesn’t quiet reach her eyes. I pay the man and he hands us a key that says 342. We walk up to the third floor and enter our room. It’s a single bed room alright. A single bed. That’s it. “Well this is fancy.” she says putting her bag on the floor. “Yup a bed, so fancy wow.” I say trying to be funny but coming off as snarky. She’s already sitting on the floor and I sit down next to her. It.s 11:24pm.

“So do we finally talk now?” I ask her. Yeah I get we’ve been talking all day but it just felt like a stream of little talks. It somehow feels like pretending. It’s like we’ve both been careful to not get too deep to the point of no return. She looks down at the floor like she’s thinking of an answer. “Okay I’ll start I guess.” I say breaking the silence. “Why did you get on the bus today?” I ask her even though I want to ask her something completely different. She takes a deep breath and starts talking in a quiet voice. “Just the thought of being in that classroom all alone for an hour and a half…I know I’m not literally alone in that room but it feels that way. Like I’m in this big, white, empty room all by myself and I can hear people talking but can’t fully comprehend it. Almost as if I’m underwater and people are trying to talk at me but I can’t understand. Almost as if everyone in that room, including the teacher are all in on this thing that I’m not a part of. I want to get above water and join them and I keep trying and trying but don’t seem to succeed.” she says like she’s been holding onto that for a long time. All I want to do is hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay but I’m not sure if that’s true. Instead I ask her how long she’s been feeling that way. “Long enough that I don’t remember how long.”. “Anyways why’d you get in the bus?” she asks me. I’ve been asking myself too. “Honestly, I thought it was to skip classes today but it’s for this. To actually talk to you. I’ve been trying for weeks. If you really felt that way why didn’t you tell me? Why did you avoid me all this time?” as soon as I say that guilt comes over me. She’s going through something rough and all I can think of is myself? “Because I thought I could get over it by myself. Still kinda do. I didn’t want my knight in shining armor to come rescue me from myself.” I try to remain as calm as possible and try to put myself in her shoes. How could she think that being alone is better? “Yes I know you’re strong enough to go through this alone. But that doesn’t mean you have to.” I say. “You don’t understand.” her voice starts to break and it feels like she could burst into tears at any moment. “Then make me understand! I’ve been trying and trying for weeks! Do you realize how shitty it feels to be cut off by someone that you care about without even a slight explanation? If it’s because you weren’t doing so well then I would’ve been there for you. I would’ve been herefor you. Like I’m here for you now.” She looks at me for a moment and says “It always felt like a relief whenever I was with you that I was afraid I was becoming overly dependent I didn’t want my happiness and excitement to solely depend on one person who could walk away and take it all with him…So I walked away myself.” “Look I think I get it. Not fully but I mostly do.” She finally lets out a small giggle. “I’m not your knight in shining armor trying to save you. You’re our own savior I’ll be like your companion. Your sidekick! Like you’re Doctor Who and I’m your companion. Or you’re Conan and I’m Andy!” she’s laughing now which feels like music to my ears. “All I’m saying is you don’t have to do this alone, alright? If you’re afraid of getting overly dependent we can take it slow.  You can go through this alone but just take me with you.” she looks at me with those sweet brown eyes and says “Okay.” and kisses me on the cheek.

 
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Posted by on July 11, 2017 in Short Fiction

 
 
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