Two Years Ago…

December 2nd, 2006. 18:10 pm

“Hey, I’m sorry for being so late.” I said to you as soon as I spotted you – you were standing in front of the book shop, looking so different than the usual person that I saw everyday at work.

I was sorry I forgot to give you my number. If only you knew how much I’d been waiting for you to call. But you did, unexpectedly so. And I’d been racing against the time so that I could finally be here, this evening, and for the first time ever, spend some time alone with you.

“It’s okay. I was at the bookshop for a while anyway because I had to get some things. Shall we eat first?” You offered, and I agreed. If only you knew how fast my heart was beating, afraid that I’d be late and you’d be gone. After all, I’d made you wait for three hours while I was waiting for my car to get fixed at the repair shop, and got stuck in a traffic jam after. It sort of felt like the world was preventing me to be with you.

But I made it after all, looking less than perfect because it was pouring outside hours ago and I was walking in the drizzle, my hair looking damp and frizzy, and I got drops of water all over my white shirt and jeans. Funny you didn’t seem to notice any of it whatsoever.

I was giddy, excited and nervous on my way to see you – I couldn’t figure out why. After all, we were friends and it wasn’t the first time I hung out with a guy friend. But it felt different for no obvious reasons.

And as soon as I saw you, and stood next to you, my heart slowed down; I felt relaxed and I was gradually starting to feel like myself again. I even managed to steal a piece of your tuna fusilli during dinner – something I’d never do in a million years with someone I didn’t know so well. I always had a thing about invading other people’s personal spaces, and mine.

Except that evening, at the precise moment when I met you, I felt like I’d known you well enough to see a reflection of myself in you. Even when we finally finished our meal, we both sat back and sighed with relief while holding our full stomachs – and at that very moment I knew that I would never do something as honest and totally unappealing as that, in front of any guy I’d just met.

But it was so easy to be with you, I could always be myself and I knew you wouldn’t think of me differently.
I didn’t have to explain or say anything to be understood, you knew immediately. Even before I could say something, sometimes you were able to read my minds.
Like the time when we just arrived at the restaurant and we just sat down at one of the tables and somehow, it just didn’t feel right sitting there. It was too open and there were too many children around (I had a thing about noisy, clumsy children at restaurants, they tend to be disastrous).

As if you knew what I was thinking, you called one of the waitress and asked to move tables. As the night wore out, you continued to surprise me, and I continued to surprise myself at how well I knew you.

It was strange in a way that I never got that feeling during the days when we stumbled upon each other at work, doing idle chit-chats out of boredom and lending each other books and CDs. The conversations that we had were always short and brief – perhaps because we were afraid of what people at work might thought of us.

During the movie, we were sitting so close together I almost felt like we were going on a date, except that we’d both knew it was an evening we couldn’t define. The cinema was getting awfully cold and I was hugging my legs, sort of hoping that you’d brought a jacket or something because I was badly in need of a substitute for a blanket.

As if you could read my mind, the second you saw me you said,”I have a jacket in my backpack, if you want to use it. Do you want me to get it out for you?”

I nodded eagerly, not believing my luck and soon afterward, I was enveloped in your scent – I was happy. I wished I could’ve brought that jacket home with me. You looked at me again and you chuckled, but I didn’t care how stupid I looked. I was warm and I couldn’t ask for more.

But half an hour later you sheepishly asked me to share your jacket because you were getting cold as well. So there we were, sitting next to each other and sharing the jacket together. I didn’t want the movie to end, and I was thinking whether you felt the same way.

When the movie ended, it was late already and I insisted on driving you home – after all it was the least I could do after I made you wait for hours. To be honest though, I just wanted to spend more time with you.

As we walked to the car, our hands touched and I wished I could’ve held yours.

“Message me as soon as you get home, okay? And drive safely, please, it’s really late.” You asked me as soon as I dropped you home.

“I will. Don’t worry.” Surprised and elated by your attention, I was glad to abide.

I drove home and I felt wonderful. It had been ages since I had a really good time with someone, and not just anyone – someone I didn’t know I could be myself with. “I had a really good time,” I thought to myself, and I wanted so much to let you know, except that I was worried that it might be too much for you.

That night, I lied on my bed and thought about you. I wanted to capture everything that I felt that evening, because I knew that it was probably the only evening that I had with you. You belonged to someone else, after all.

But that night, it was just you and me, and even if it was as insignificant as any other day when two friends hung out together having dinner and watching a movie, it was the night when I’d known that my prayers were answered.

And for that brief moment alone, I was happy. I found myself and my happiness, along with my faith, on that night in December.

Our December.