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.
 
Yours,
Justin.

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...)

Silent Night

24th December, 2012

I sat on the floor heaving - my breath came out in gasps like I was stuck under water and the corset that I’d struggled to lose weight to fit into, felt like it was growing tighter by the minute. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I thanked the stars that I’d had the sense not to gorge down all those pancakes for breakfast like I usually do, for I was sure I’d have brought every last morsel out now.

I caught my reflection in a large shard of glass, a remnant of the mirror I had knocked over just a few seconds ago – a wild nymph stared back at me, an imperfect beauty wrapped in yards and yards of lace and silk, a wedding dress made for an angel by angels. A pretty rose bud mouth, the lower lip bled a little from having been bitten too hard, a tiny droplet of blood marring the pristine white of the dress. The makeup was starting to wear off, I vaguely registered that the lady from the parlor had probably scammed me with cheap products. Or it could be that I was sweating bullets.

I stared some more at the reflection. She had made imperfect features, perfect – small but expressive eyes, ones which always held a twinkle, now brimmed with panic and realization. A small button nose, the only thing I had from my father and no amount of hating it would stop people from calling it cute. My short, fluffy tresses which I kept short with a vengeance had been teased into soft waves to frame my long face. The small tiara which I had sullenly agreed to wear glittered in the evening sun light while my veil fluttered; the slight breeze whipping through the large tear right in the middle. Its fault had been to flutter into my eyes gently right when I was going into an emotional shutdown.

What I saw was a mask that was slowly breaking apart. Just like the unexpected fairytale that I had thought my life to be. This was reality. The kind of reality that I was used to. It was almost like I was waiting for it to happen.

What struck me suddenly was that he had let me get completely ready, fully dressed before walking out – he could have saved me all those hours of torture if only he had had his grand realization earlier in the day. I laughed out loud, the voice that came out didn’t sound anything like mine, the one with rough edges, and then I choked on my own laugh.

He was the one who talked me into it, in the first place. 

After a father who professed undying affection and never bothered showing up ever, a step-father who was borderline sex maniac, a first love who abused me enough to plummet my self-esteem levels right into the ground and yet another relationship which almost brought me to my knees, I had pretty much given up on men – I wasn’t the raging feminist, I just wanted nothing to do with them for I had let enough men treat me like a doormat to make the same mistake again.

And yet, yet, I had let him talk me into it.

I found comfort in him, I found peace. I wanted nothing else but companionship so it was a bonus that the chemistry between us was off the charts, enough to steam up cars. And we did.

Then I said I wasn’t ready for marriage. I asked him to guarantee that our relationship will never fall apart – an assurance that I knew wasn’t giveable but I asked him for it anyway because I knew I didn’t want to wake up next to someone I hated in ten years. I didn’t want to add to the number of broken, messed up families and children, there already are in the world.

And yet, yet, I had let him talk me into it.

He had patiently chipped away at my armor and eaten into my solid reasoning ultimately leading me to believe that love just might conquer all. He did the whole will-you-marry-me hoopla too. I had stopped being cheesy after my first relationship, yet I felt like a girl, like a teenager seeing stars and wanting the moon, when he sank down onto a knee in front of the whole restaurant and asked me to walk down the aisle with him.

Everyone cheered when I said yes and completely ignored the hiccup moment I had right in the middle of it, dork that I am. While I was questioning all sorts of motives, futures and possibilities, I watched him smile into the night with unrepressed glee and happiness that I’d previously seen only in a three year-old who found his favorite RC car under his Christmas tree.

And now, I was sitting on the marble floor of my ridiculously expensive bridal suite which I’d sunken onto while still wrapped up uncomfortably tight in a ridiculously expensive white dress from an amazingly famous and equally shallow designer; this was right after he came into the room and told me that he couldn’t do it and that he was really very sorry. He also said that I deserved better and then walked out. 

Not once did he meet my eye.

(to be continued....) 

Sparkling Waters

It was as simple as that.

To read the texts that flowed in, one after the other, like a leaky faucet trying to fill a broken bucket and realize that the bucket is just that. Broken. There is no glue, no tape in the world to fix the bucket to make it go back in time and be what it used to be.

Of course, here, you have to realize I’m talking metaphors. If you haven’t already.  I really wouldn’t be writing about a real broken bucket, would I? Not that interesting.

In those few moments that it took to send about fifty messages, the past slipped out of my fingers that I have been clutching so tightly and the best part was, I realized that all I needed to do to get rid of the animosity and hatred - basically all the negativity that was getting me down into the depths of darkness - was to just open my palm, just open my heart and let it all recede like the ebbing tide on a beautiful summer’s day.

With clear waters in sight, the world seemed a little more cheery, the horizon seemed a little brighter, the very people who had brought out the worst in me seemed a little nicer. And with a jolt I realized, it is all in the head…. it is all about who and what I choose to give control to. Control of my life, that is.

Demons are always going to be around, both ones that I can battle and ones that I need someone to help me battle. But for now, I will still munch on cookies, download Grey’s Anatomy, file 130% productivity at work each day, go for long walks, read more Greg Iles, laugh a lot at the most pointless of things and learn to make the perfect cup of hot chocolate. 

***

I wrote this for myself a while ago. And guess what, I have almost perfected the hot chocolate :)

***
P.S: Lioness, Wings of Harmony and Blasphemous Atheste asked me why I disabled comments. I have been doing that for the past few posts because 1) I felt really bad about not replying to previous comments for a really long time - it was my way of atoning for it? By giving up precious comments and 2) I wanted to write for myself, just myself... because that's where I started from.

Fragility

In the time it took for the sparkling rivulet to make its way down from the rim to the stem of the bubbling champagne glass, fluid leaked, brakes disengaged, his car went over the edge and the sparkle went out of her life.

Unsent Texts

You can either choose to take perfection as a state of mind and revel in the perfect present and the awesomesauceness of everything that is happening in the now. 

Or you can take perfection to be a confluence of factors at a place in time and keep waiting for it. 

Either way, it is your choice to make.

Our Trysts w/h The Dark Passenger

Never ask a question you don't want to hear the answer to because most likely, the messenger will bear the brunt of the storm that usually accompanies the truth and you'll end up worse for the knowledge.

This applies not only to the literal asking of any question (like the eternal favorite with the ladies, "Do I look fat?" that will make any man cringe with helplessness) but also to the doing of things that will give you information that you don't necessarily need. Like snooping around your better half's phone/inbox - you might stumble across things that you don't want to know, that you wish you'd never started off on the quest in the first place.

Once you end up with the information/result, thanks to your annoying little feline alter ego with its annoying little curiosity that will get something killed, you will see another side of that person, one that you might not necessarily like. One that might put an end to whatever good thing you have going, for no good reason. Sometimes you get over it and move on, sometimes the scar never really fades away. 

What I'm trying to say is once you get to know something, there is no way of un-knowing it. So pick and choose what you want to find out, especially if it is someone you care about.

Also, everybody has a dark side, a side that they are not proud of but they have it anyway because that is what makes them human and whoever it is, however close you are, you do not have the right to pry into their cupboard of skeletons, unless you have been specifically invited to. While this applies to everyone you know, it specifically applies to people you love and care about the most.

In a lot of places, at a lot of times, ignorance is bliss.

P.S: R.I.P Paul Walker.