It used to irritate her. He would leave the chairs pushed too far back in, making the whole dining table symmetry skewed. He would leave the patio chairs pulled too far out. He would leave wet towels on wooden chairs.
And he would also close taps too tightly.
Often she would correct these things quietly. Sometimes she would remind him to keep things where they belonged. And there were those days when she would be too exhausted to explain and just leave things messy, the way he left them.
And then she would also lose her calm and yell.
None of this fixed what he used to do. Leaving things lived in, behind him. He just forgot, it was as simple as that.
And then one day, when she was impatiently explaining to him why the curtains needed to pulled back evenly on both windows, she stopped. And caught herself.
Everything froze around her and she saw an alternative reality dawning at the window. The window where the curtain was pulled too far back. A day when she was alone in this house they had built. A time when she could no longer see him in the same house. She called his name but there was no answer. He was not there anymore.
She didn't know where he was. Had he left her? Had he left the house? Had he left everything? It did not matter. The truth was, he wasn't there anymore. And she wanted to die where she was standing. She wanted to leave the chairs pushed too far back in, like he used to leave them. She would not allow that to be fixed. The curtains had to remain the way he left them, the patio chairs asymmetrically arranged, the towel dangling from the antique chair. Everything had to freeze.
None of her symmetries mattered without his presence. She had to know that everything had been lived in. By him, the way he always did it.
When she snapped back, he was fixing the curtain. A tear fell on the rug she was standing on then.
And he would also close taps too tightly.
Often she would correct these things quietly. Sometimes she would remind him to keep things where they belonged. And there were those days when she would be too exhausted to explain and just leave things messy, the way he left them.
And then she would also lose her calm and yell.
None of this fixed what he used to do. Leaving things lived in, behind him. He just forgot, it was as simple as that.
And then one day, when she was impatiently explaining to him why the curtains needed to pulled back evenly on both windows, she stopped. And caught herself.
Everything froze around her and she saw an alternative reality dawning at the window. The window where the curtain was pulled too far back. A day when she was alone in this house they had built. A time when she could no longer see him in the same house. She called his name but there was no answer. He was not there anymore.
She didn't know where he was. Had he left her? Had he left the house? Had he left everything? It did not matter. The truth was, he wasn't there anymore. And she wanted to die where she was standing. She wanted to leave the chairs pushed too far back in, like he used to leave them. She would not allow that to be fixed. The curtains had to remain the way he left them, the patio chairs asymmetrically arranged, the towel dangling from the antique chair. Everything had to freeze.
None of her symmetries mattered without his presence. She had to know that everything had been lived in. By him, the way he always did it.
When she snapped back, he was fixing the curtain. A tear fell on the rug she was standing on then.
4 comments:
You said it girl! I echo everything you've written, everything!!!
Favorite line: None of her symmetries mattered without his presence.
She could be anyone. Lover and wife, mother or anyone who has cared for him and yes, it is a beautiful realization. But such things make life happening, don't they.
On a lighter side, what are the chances that it is the guy who's missing? An alternate symmetry could dawn upon the guy too, no?
Beautiful post.
Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete
Shilpi, Crimson: :)
BA: Of course. There are innumerable parallel dimensions. But in the end, it is all One.
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