So today I entered John's to get my coffee and he was sitting there. Working on his sheets as usual. Or planning his next move. Or lamenting his destiny. Or whatever. Does not matter what he was doing. It is probably anything but wasting his time in the trivial aspects of his life. I looked at him for a moment. Placed my classical order. Waited until it was finished and left. Did not go to his table to greet him or say hi.
While waiting, I remembered when I used to enter any place and search for him. Search for his face in exasperation for comfort. The moment I saw his face, I would automatically smile. And in most cases, he would feel my presence and look in my direction. It was a remote longing and an intimate connexion despite the proximity and the barriers. We were closer to each other than any soul would imagine. It even surprised us.
Later, when we were together, we continued on the same habit. That time we would have a big smile on our faces and we would go straight to one another and exchange a profound kiss. A sincere happiness to see and meet one another although we would have just left.
But wait a minute, now I remember, it was always me who will spot him and go straight to him. It was me who had the big smile and the passionate kiss. It was actually me. He would always smile and take a quick glimpse to check the surrounding. But to me, who cares. Regardless of how long or short ago we had left one another, but I was always happy to see him. Even when we were not on good terms, I would just go straight and smile. As if is a new moment and a real desire to see him.
Now I do not want to see him. I look to his face and trace the kind features that used to exist. Not found. The calm sad look that was full of hope and despair. Not found. A loving glimpse that checks where I am at, and was ready to forgive. Not found. The real desire to live and delve into the creeks of my presence. To know me. To explore me. To be with me. Not found. All that now got replaced with a tired face. A serious look. A cold feature. An occupied mind. Not with the person that shares his space, but with something. He is not here. And he does not want to be here. And I do not want him to be here too.
We enter. Me and June. And he would greet her. Forgetting about me. Shower her with attention and love. Ignoring me. I would just take myself off the scene and go to the kitchen hang the purple bag or wash the tired face of mine. I wonder why the ignoring. Initially I wondered. Then I get used to. Later on I just start building my own wall. Start thinking of a different path. Start exercising my own skill of forming a bubble. WIth lots of tension and force to fold its wall together. I needed that. And then by time, this water bubble became my space. I would sit with him for hours and not say a word. And he did the same.
It became a dull encounter. The more I stayed, the more I felt ignored. And the more I ignored him. I focused of pleasing June initially out of love, then out of duty. Then now I can not do either. She reminded me of my failure to handle many tasks; of his failure to support me; of our vacuum that engulfed all the space that once existed between us. All the hopes and dreams got muted. Got lost.
Nothing to share. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to dream of. No tolerance for the other existence. No space of even our spirits to connect. How can I connect with him if I am unable to connect with myself.