Letting Go

“Ladies and gentlemen, you only live one life. And in that life, you were never meant to carry the burden of the entire world. You were never meant to carry any burden. You were only meant to carry love, compassion and happiness. So I implore you, let go.”

The lady bowed and the lights returned. The doors opened vigorously on either side of her. It was the signal to depart.

Selene silently made her exit from the conference hall, her mind musing over the flow of words she just gulped, trying to make them fall into place and wondering if they told her what she wanted to hear. The lady’s message was simple, but the way it jabbered inside her head made her confused. She wondered if it was the same with the others who were in the audience. She imagined hundreds of broken men and women entering the hall with heavy hearts and debated with herself how many of them might have left through those massive, glass doors, armed with the tools they need to tackle their fates. She recouped her mind back to herself. Was she one of them? She wasn’t sure.

She sighed and tasted the frosty, night air. The sides of the thoroughfare flickered with all colours of brightness. She stared at the passers-by. Hundreds of them, hurrying along to mind their own businesses. The world was moving on all around her and she was too slow to fit in.

She stopped beside an old, roadside cafe. The Secret Brews. She used to come here with him every weekend. It had been his favourite.

Selene entered and seated herself at their usual spot, near the door, beside the window. She absently ordered an espresso and stared at the empty chair opposite to her. She pictured him sitting in front of her, his fingers tapping the wood on the table and his deep-set, blue eyes gazing into hers.

All of a sudden, she was awoken from her momentary paradise by the noise of the chair being dragged. She looked up, like one still at the tail end of a dream, and saw a woman standing over her espresso cooling off on the table.

“Is anyone sitting here?” asked the woman.

Selene gestured her to be seated. She recognised her tone, exaggeratedly polite. But she didn’t mind some company.

“I’m Mabel. I saw you tonight at the conference,” she said.

“Selene.” Selene said, extending her hand. Mabel was young, probably in her thirties, with pitch-black, windy hair and equally black eyes.

“I’ve seen you before too,” she said. “Here. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Selene nodded.

“Is that why you attended the speech tonight?” asked Mabel. Selene took a moment to digest the meaning of her words and nodded again.

“I can understand,” said Mabel. “I have the same reason.” She gave a faint smile. Selene recognised that too. The difficulty. She smiled back, for the first time in four months.

“But it didn’t help me,” said Mabel. “It only made me feel worse. Like I don’t know what to do.”

Selene ordered another espresso for Mabel. “Is your husband dead too?”

“No,” replied Mabel. “He left me. I didn’t want to let go of him, you know. But it seems there’s no other way. So I’m trying.”

It was marvellous how same kinds of people effortlessly bump into each other in this vast society. “You’re trying to follow that advice?” asked Selene.

“Yes, I don’t get anything from this now. Only pain,” said Mabel.

“Well, love is all about giving, not receiving.” The words jumped out of Selene’s mouth before she knew it. After all, she was trying to understand the speech too. She just didn’t know whether she would want to follow it.

“It’s easy for you to say,” said Mabel, stirring her espresso. “But my husband didn’t die. He deceived me. Often, he would start rows with me and leave the house for days, and make love to other women. And… and then he decided he didn’t want to hide it from me after all. He just said it’s over.”

This was unexpected. Mabel stopped stirring her espresso because her fingers were shaking. She kept staring into the cup. Selene saw her cheeks redden, but her eyes were not watery. She looked as if she had cried all her tears and hadn’t any left.

Selene was silent. For the first time in four months, she felt sorry for someone except herself. The sight of her new friend burning up on the chair he used to occupy made her feel guilty. She was surprised at how this stranger could talk to her so openly about her problem when she herself hadn’t told even her mother. She decided to spill the beans. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it would ease Mabel’s desolation.

“After my husband’s funeral, I found in his drawer a whole bunch of love letters.”

Mabel looked up. “So you’re gonna let go too?”

“I’m not sure,” Selene replied, deeply pondering the message behind the speech. “It’s very confusing.”

“Well, I’ve decided. I don’t need pain any more,” said Mabel. “And I’m quite sure you don’t either.”

Selene didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know what to choose.”

“But you’re still young,” said Mabel. “You oughtn’t sacrifice your entire future for someone who deceived you.”

“Well, love is all about sacrifice.” Selene was surprised at her own fluency. Her tongue was speaking in its own accord.

“How can you love someone like that?” asked Mabel.

“If you can’t love someone like that, why are you grieving?” Selene couldn’t control herself. She didn’t understand why she was saying them. She wondered whether that was what had been in her mind all along.

Mabel looked her in the eyes. “I didn’t mean that,” she said calmly. “I just mean that I don’t have a choice. He’s gone. And I still have my whole life ahead of me. I don’t want to darken it.”

Selene didn’t speak. She diverted her mind to the constant clattering of teacups, the muffled talks and the strong smell of caffeine wrapping about her. She wondered whether there were rules, whether those instructions were vital. She turned to Mabel. “Remember what she said in the end? You were meant to carry love.”

“While at the same time asking to let go?” said Mabel. “You are saying this because you don’t want to let go.”

Selene knew that was true. “After all, there is no hard and fast rule is there?”

Mabel shrugged. “You know Selene? What we see, hear, feel. All of them are rubbish. They have no use. They only make meaning according to the way we perceive them.”

She took a last gulp of her espresso and looked at Selene in the eye. “The choice is yours, Selene. Be wise. It was nice talking to you.”

With that, she stood up, thanked her and departed.

Selene sat, motionless, pondering her words. Love is complex. Letting go is even more complex. But she could say for certain, the latter was just an option. The decision was hers.

The crockery clashed and clattered. People chattered away. She looked at the chair in front of her. She could see him sitting there, his hands resting on the table, his gaze fixed firmly at her. Through the noise, she heard herself mumble, “I love you.”