A Sudden Realization

You laugh to the most ridiculous joke I’ve ever told anyone, the corners of your lips lifting up, your teeth peeking out. Placing a hand on your waist, you throw your head back and keep laughing until I’m shaking my head, not really in denial, perhaps to the sound of your laughter maybe. A few strands of your hair come loose from your braid and you tuck them behind your ears.

I grumble. It wasn’t even that funny.

You pucker your nose, heaving almost and bring a dainty little finger to rest of on your lips.

This is a bad idea, I tell myself, and for a moment I’m reminded of what my best friend had told me a couple of hours ago.

Before leaving, Karan had shot me a look and I had nodded. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he had been trying to tell me.

I had nodded, closed the door and his warning, to not stop by your house, had resounded in my brain until his figure was no longer visible in the mirror. As soon as I had pulled up on that dusty road that led to the outskirts of the town, the car wobbling, tyres screeching from time to time, somehow the warning had crept out of my mind. I had ended up steering my car into another one of those dusty lanes – one that I had known all my life, only to realise that a lot had changed over the years.

You are nodding. I don’t remember what I had said last. Your brows crease as you bend down and pick up the few bills lying on your doorstep. You skim through them, push them into the back pocket of your jeans and then look up at me.

Dammit, I don’t remember what I had been saying.

You lean against the door and it creaks and only then, I realise that we have been standing outside your little house for almost an hour now. I don’t mind, though. It’s not too sunny, evening has begun to clamber in, and there’s a slight chill in the air.

The silence is rather awkward. I look around and see a couple of new houses and I wonder if I should talk about them. Or maybe about your paintings? Do you still paint? Do you sell them off at times like you used to back in high school? Bits and pieces of questions linger in my head. But somehow I can’t bring myself to say anything. There’s a warning flickering in my head – something that had slipped my mind while driving towards your house – and it tells me that I should leave already.

You ask if I still go to the beach.

Scratching the car key against my chin, I shrug. At times.

You smile again. The strands of hair manage to come loose again and you tuck them back, almost instinctively; this time, a silver piercing peeks out and I swear I can’t take my eyes off that thing.

You cock an eyebrow at me, asking what I am looking at. Your hand shoots up, slightly brushing against your left ear and I look away.

Can you stop doing that? You’re killing me.

I tell you that I should get going. I’m supposed to turn around, but I stand at the same spot, looking at you and every little emotion, that I’ve managed to bury over the last few years, is slowly starting to build up all over again.

I think I’m just imagining the way your voice suddenly sounds so dull.

I tell you I’ve to get back to the city.

You tell me to stay back. You remember my aunt still lives here. No, I can’t stay with her. I need to get back to the city.
Damn it, I should have never come this way. This is probably the umpteenth time I’ve told this to myself in the past one hour.

You nod, a frown cascading your features.

I turn around. The longer I stay, the harder it will be for me to actually leave the damn place. My car is parked a few steps away and I can hear your soft footsteps behind me. You wait as I haul myself into the car. I don’t want to leave.

You murmur a hurried goodbye. My lips part slightly to say something but I swallow back my words and start the ignition. It’s already pretty fucking hard to look away from your face. I’m praying you don’t ask me to stay back. For, I think, I might just drive down to my aunt’s and stay there for a night if you ask me to.

Are you dating somebody? I want to know and the words tumble out of my mouth before I can help it and I’m hoping you don’t catch the desperation in my voice.

You avoid looking at me.

I don’t need an answer.

I’m ready to change gears and drive away in case you throw the same question at me. Instead, you ask me something that is fucking obvious.

You want to know if I still love you.

I gulp.

A gush of wind blows and you close your eyes shortly, holding your hair back with both hands. With your finger, you pull out strands of hair stuck to your lips and this time you huff as you push your hair behind your ears. I catch the silver glimmer again.

Really, can you stop doing that? I think I’m falling in love all over again.

Damn it, I should have just listened to Karan.