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29 Dec 2013

Silent Night - II

Part 1

25th December, 2012

Twenty hours that came very close to being the worst of my life.

After the initial shock, the survivor in me put herself back in control – I cancelled the church bookings, divided the food between a couple of orphanages, applied for refunds on all the travel bookings that we’d made for both the guests and for our honeymoon, talked to the realtor about the down payment we’d put down on the duplex we were going to live in – I took care of all the details pat down to the last ‘T’ because ‘organized’ is my middle name... it was easy. Or rather, mechanical.

But that feeling. That feeling of having to explain to everyone why they weren’t going to be dancing at my wedding, why they weren’t going to see I and he become man and wife had me at a loss for words, loss for reasons to explain why it ended before I became his in their eyes.

I allowed myself to hate him for one thing and one thing only – that he threw me at the mercy of all at sundry to be pitied upon. He knew how much I loathed that and yet.

I needed no one’s pity, no one’s support. I didn’t get this far in life with expectations of someone else coming through for me.
I knew that the rock solid calm that was now awash over me was just a farcical element that would recede once the crisis is sorted out and life goes back to normal. I knew that it would take everything I had and then some to not break this time. But I swore to myself every time I caught myself teetering to the edge that I was better than this.

That this was what I had been expecting to happen in my heart of hearts and that I shouldn’t be surprised that it had come to a pass.

As I cut the call on the last of the guests who had insisted upon knowing where he was, I let my shoulders sag – with relief that the ordeal was finally over? Or surrender to the forces that were trying their best to get me down on my knees? I know not.

It would just be a matter of time, anyway.

I slipped into the car and gunned the engine, stepping down hard on the accelerator and my beautiful baby, my Audi, took off at speeds normal people would cringe at – this was my poison, the only luxury I had granted myself over the years.

I made my way back to my nest thanking myself, once again, for having enough sense not to let him take over my life - my house was still mine, my haven.... untouched by the clutches of the relationship.

No memories to block out whatsoever.

Making a couple of calculations, I decided to afford myself five days to grieve... five days till the new year came around after which I would barricade the past and move forward.

Like I always do.

I kicked off my pumps and stepped onto the plush carpet, divesting myself of every article of clothing on the way to my bed. I reached for mom’s old tee and a favorite pair of shorts that I had bought with my first salary and made my way into the kitchen feeling instinctively for the Nutella bottle and a spoon. 

Familiar actions. Comforting ones.

When the house was being constructed, I’d made sure that the picture window that I had always dreamed of as a child became reality. Now, I climbed onto that cozy nook with a rug, nibbled on the peanuts that my Nutella was peppered with and looked out of the window, finally allowing the dams of thought, feeling, question and most of all hurt to break and flood my person – a deep sigh escaped out of my lips as I felt pain coursing through my veins.

Not even fairylights by the Christmas tree could distract me as my blurred eyes stared unseeingly at the beautiful lights that became bokeh in the cold winter night.

As I put the bottle down, I saw a bit of paper flutter under one of the cushions and I reached for it, more out of habit than curiosity. The familiar handwriting finally caught my attention as I opened it up.

My Bebe,

I fell in love with you. I don’t know when the exact moment was but I did. It feels nothing like anything I have ever known before – I questioned myself as to my motives and came up with nothing and I can only assume that this is what the real thing feels like.

It’s Christmas and you think I broke your heart. I would say sorry if I really did believe it but I don’t. Coz I know you would never let anyone close enough to actually break anything of yours. Not even me.

And that is why I left this morning – before I forced you into something you are not ready for.

My dearest bebe, you are such a strong woman, so independent, so intelligent…. But in love, you have to be ready to lose yourself, give up control. And you never let us get there. You always thought about how it would not work out and how you should protect yourself from me. Plotting solutions to when I would fail your expectations.

Even now I'm sure you are congratulating yourself on predicting that I would walk out on you. 

I’m sure you have refused help with everything from everyone and didn’t ask Mark where I am. Did you? I’d be very surprised if you have. What will happen now is that you will give yourself a few days to grieve over the lost companionship and then block everything related to me to relegate it to a past that you will never think about again.

Therein, again, lies the problem. I don’t want ‘companionship’. I want love that is as tangible and fiery as your lust is. I want love that drives you crazy and me, with you. I want to be your everything, I want to be that one rock that you want to lean on at the end of the day and on stormy nights.

I want you to realize that I’m not going to hurt you and let me in completely.

You know my darkest secret, you know my deepest fear and I don’t even know whether you prefer Coke to Pepsi. I expected that with time, you’d thaw, with time, we’d grow closer and with time, you’d let me know the scared child who went through hell, a price she paid for being the strong, successful woman she is today.

Because the scared child is the real you. And its glimpses of the child that I fell for. I can’t live the rest of my life with this woman who treats me and the rest of the world the very same – with respect, care and admiration.

I want you to love me. Love me like your life depended on it. I want you to give me your hundred per cent and then hope to God that I won’t break your heart. I’d cherish that vulnerability for all the lifetimes to come and then some more. 

I know you are capable of it. But the question is, will you let yourself love me like that?

If you think you will, if you think you can, come find me.

I love you.
And I suspect I will love you for a very long time to come regardless of which way you decide to go.


I read the letter three times. And then once more till I couldn’t cry any more.
Am I really that cold? Did I really not love him?

(To be continued...)