An unspoken voice from the left says things that will never be said:
“You woke me up at 3AM and said you were leaving. I was groggy and said hasty goodbyes wishing to get back under the sheets. It was a cold night, the day before. I stayed up till the taxi drove you away.
You told me you were upset leaving the city. I wondered then if you cried. We were never too close. We were always cordial; we were non-judgemental about each other. I knew why we could never be thick because it would have ruined it all, don’t you think? Sometimes I look at you and mull over how it would be to know a little more about a person you’ve known for so long.
I don’t know if I really missed you. Maybe the reality that we lived no more in the same city, never really dawned on me. I wish we had known each other a little more. Maybe if I could have predicted your ways, fully understood how one could know exactly what one wants out of life. Do you know I respect you a lot? It is funny because I never could have admitted it to your face.
Sometimes I thought I was just your passing fancy, someone you go to when you needed a night to lay your head or someone to go to because you feel a sense of duty. Every thought stops short when I think why we kept in touch – out of habit, out of inertia, some unwritten code of law?
There are many things I want to tell you. I want to ask for forgiveness for that evening when I was rude to you for no fault of yours. Every time I gather my nerves to bring up that forgotten incident, I wonder if it would reveal a little about how I feel about you. I would feel naked and so raw if that would happen. Once I almost broke down in front of you. I held myself before I became so shameless as to make a spectacle in front of you.
I am scared thinking if this is a thin thread I tread on calling it friendship. It could snap anytime, because those others have snapped and they were thicker.”
An unspoken voice from the right replies silently to those things that will never be said:
“That evening when you were grumpy, I was hurt when you pushed me out of your room. I knew something was troubling you and you would never speak your mind. I knew better to ask, so I thought I’d drop by for a chit-chat. I should have known better.
I am always a little wary of stepping too close to your space; you guard it like a dog, are you aware? You pretend like you are fine with the proximity, but I know you better than that façade. I wonder if you know what you are doing sometimes, but you won’t find me giving you any advice. I know that I can never see things the way you see them.
I have tasted the surfacing belligerence and I’ve backed off soon enough. There’s a wound I never want you to reopen. Not in front of me. I won’t be able hold myself gracefully, you know that. You’ve seen that moment of uncertainty flicker once. Fleetingly. I held back before I let myself show.
When we parted and I had to find a new home, I wondered whether you’d be alone. You said you didn’t know too many people in the city. I was a little worried, then I remembered that I was agonising over trivialities. You’d find company before I say ‘Shakespeare and Company’. You were always like that – a little flighty and then a slight moody. Very unpredictable.
It is amazing how you walk through life waving your arms around showing no care. I don’t know if I want that too. It looks nice on you. I am sure you know what you are doing. I will be here sticking to my nondescript ways. It is a little game we play with each other, never knowing what the other knows and yet never hiding anything from the other. I like this play because it keeps both of us guessing and never knowing and I see that’s how this is going to go on. Never knowing, always wondering.”
There will always be peace between, there will be that peaceful turmoil. Of patience and waiting and expectations.