He was there all alone and wondering why they drifted apart. And so he wrote.
I wrote this because I had to tell our story. I had to let it all out. We write to live in retrospect. And I write to relive my days with her. I write to relive every bit of the happiness, even if it means I have to relive the sadness too. I am writing this for you and the others. I am writing this to move on. I need this. I need to tell somebody. Even a stranger like you.
The screen was taunting him. The cursor blinking at him, daring him to write another word knowing it hurts; every word like knives stabbing his heart; every syllable a discomfort. His words – screaming at him. He was pouring his heart out and he couldn’t help it. He missed her. Badly.
To the clever girl, I met,
I can never seem to forget you and your smile. You have been stuck in my mind for months now. How long has it been? 5 months? Or was it? I don’t know. All I know is that you have been a part of me since the day we met and your smile is something I can never forget.
This was how they met. He saw by the deck, gazing at the open sea and she looked like she wanted to be alone but still, he wanted to keep her company. You never know, right? And so he went to her direction and started a conversation.
“Are you waiting for the Titanic to miraculously reappear out of the depths of the ocean?”
He looked at him, then back at the horizon.
“On the contrary, I was looking for an iceberg. You never know, we might get hit anytime soon.”
He laughed. Wow! This girl is funny. She seems like a great conversationalist, he thought to himself.
“I’m Ken, by the way. Ken Adams.”
“Yes, I know who you are. I read your blogs. They’re nice.”
“You do? Amazing! It’s nice to know my work is appreciated.”
“Yeah, well. I do have issues on your point-of-views, though. Why do you always write in the third person? Why not use your own perspective?”
“Hmm…” He massages his chin, trying to gauge his answer correctly. “That’s too deep for a first conversation, don’t you think?” he finally asks.
She shrugged, not pushing for an answer.
Dead air and awkward silence starting to creep in, he blurted.
“Three things have been difficult to tame: the oceans, fools, and women. We may soon be able to the oceans; fools and women will take a little longer.”
“Spiro Agnew said that.”
“Yes. That he did; the 39th vice-president of The United States of America.”
“You know, not to sound so demeaning and at all but I do think you’re pushing it Mr. Adams.”
“Ken; he interrupts.”
“Ken,” she corrects. “You seem nice, and all. But I came here to enjoy the view and you’re becoming a nuisance.”
“Oh, that’s fine. Do you want me to leave?”
Hah! She chuckled. “You are a piece of work, Ken.”
And that was it; their first HELLO.
He still writes in the third person. But someday — maybe someday. If and when she comes back; he might change his point of view; if and when she does.
Nobody knows how the world works. Nobody understands how the universe conspires us to meet the people we’ll love or have connections with. It just happens.
You smile… and the story begins.
You once told me that guys need more smiles than girls do. I guess I see how it is, now. Well, for starters, guys are experts at hiding their true feelings. So whenever they are sad, they just tend to punch walls and stuff. I want to punch one right now. I want to see you so badly. You are like Mr. Gatsby’s green light. Wanting something so bad it hurts. I wish I’d see you again. I wanted to tell you my story’s about to be finished. Hope you’re well, wherever you are now.
I SAW YOU AGAIN TODAY. You went to my book signing event. I couldn’t believe it! You went and bought a book of mine! I asked you if you liked the book and you said yes.
And temporary bliss clouded my judgment.
His phone buzzed.
S: I had such a great time, tonight. Thank you for the treat.
H: Hey. Thanks for coming to my book signing event.
S: No problem. I promised I would remember?
H: Yes; that you did.
S: I saw the dedication by the way. Nice touch.
To the clever girl with the blue hat,
Until the day we meet again, I won’t be giving cupid’s arrow back.