the
doorbell rang noisily. you know the sound; it is one of those
irritating noise that always seem to wake you up at the wrong time. you
hated that sound so much you could kill whoever invented doorbells. it
is six a.m. on a sunday morning, no one rings a bell on that ungodly
hour! you did not dare open your eyes, hoping that your flatmates would
rush out their rooms and open the door. it did not take another long
“tuuuuuuuuuuttttt” sound before you gave up and sat straight up. they
would not hear it; and you know it is not their fault that they did not
and you did. no one told you to pass out on the sofa and spend the
night there. the bed, your bed, is probably aching for your warmth more
than a sex-maniac is aching for sex; you have not slept on it for quite
a while.

you opened the door and saw him
there. God knows you haven’t seen the man for years. the last time you
saw him was he walking out on you and your boyfriend.

“hi.”

“hi.”

you
stood there, holding the door in midway and stared at him. he stared
back at you and your bedroom-made hair and oily-dried up face. he
looked quickly at your party clothes and it was obvious he wondered if
you just got in.

“i dozed off on the
sofa.” you said unsolicitedly and wished that you did not. you are in
no way obligated to explain to him why you look like that. if someone
has to do some explaining, it wasn’t you definitely.

“i
can see that.” he replied and smiled at you. and in just an instant,
you remember everything that happened five years ago, as if you are
watching the movie in a slow motion-fast forward kind of way.

an
author once told you that that is how the mind works. it just takes one
insignificant detail and it will bring you back to memory lane.

you
wanted to ask him all the why’s you can think of. but you chose to wash
your face and comb your hair and change into a more appropriate
clothing wear. by the time you faced him again, the questions did not
seem attractive anymore.

“i am getting married.”

you
looked at him absent-mindedly. five years ago, you would have cried.
hell, five years ago, you might have committed suicide. but five years
is 60 months back; and that for you is a lot. and until he snatched
your precious sleeping time a few minutes ago, you have not even
thought of him at all. he ceased to exist the moment you forgot to
remember him.

“i am doing this for
myself.” you heard him continue, not looking at you anymore. “until i
got entangled with our board review materials and the little bits of
papers with your handwritings, i was okay. i mean, three weeks ago, i
was okay. and now, i need to get this off my chest. i am dreaming what
ifs and it is scaring me.”

he was scaring
you. until that goddamn doorbell rang, you were okay. sure, lovelife
sucks these days but you asked for it. there seem to be important
things that you only realize later in life and one of these is
commitment. and now he comes, as he always did, at the wrong time.

“we
never seem to make it work.” he continued and he surprised you this
time. he was always the silent one; it was always you who explains
things even if an explanation is unnecessary. “it was always the wrong
time. i was free and you weren’t. and when you’re free, i wasn’t. and a
lot of shits just get in between. and that fact is driving me crazy
because i was thinking what it would have been like if… if… we took
the risk.”

it must be the liquor you
consummed the night before; or maybe, it is the hang over you were
feeling that very moment that took your voice or the thoughts that
dictate your voice. it was a while before you spoke up, and it was so
un-you. it was brief. “we took the risk of not taking the risk.”

perhaps,
there are things that are better understood by the listener than the
speaker. you never quite understood what you said but it gave him the
answer. “i love her. its crazy because you once said that love is never
enough. and you always make sense.” he said. “and maybe its
pre-engagement bumps but i am scared.”

he
was always scared, you remember that. in fact, all the time you were
together, he was dead shit scared: both of your presence in his life
and your absence from it. you wanted to hug him as you hugged him
before; you wanted to comfort him as you did so many times in the past.
but the urge and the passion to do that was not there. this was his own
battle and because until today, he ceased to exist in your life, you
have no right to join it. “do not always believe what i said; lately, i
learned i embraced principles i cannot practice.” you told him as you
escorted him towards the door.

“you
were always the safe one, maggie.” he told you and for that moment, you
did not understand if it was an insult or a compliment. “it was easy
falling in love with you because it will never work…” he managed a
faint chuckle. “as you always said.”

it
was easy falling in love with you because it will never work. as he
left and you popped back on the sofa, you thought of a different guy. a
guy who in totality and in detail so different from him; a guy who
refuses to enter your life and yet dashes right into it in a speed so
uncontrollable it caught you offguard.

it
must be the liquor that got you wasted last night—that, or the hang
over you are currently suffering— that makes the whole thing surreal.

but that is how the mind works.

you can never dictate what it wants to think.