The Transformation

The Transformation

She didn't open the message he sent. On his Facebook account, it just said "delivered." The status sat there, an immutable digital fact, a promise unfulfilled. Only after several agonizing hours did the notification finally change. Now it said "seen." She looked at the message but didn't reply for the next few hours, nor that day, nor the next. Not even the day after that.

He had been feeling awful even when the message was just delivered and unread. He thought she was rolling her fatal eyes, the eyes he longed to surrender to, at the sight of yet another message from him. He was certain she had reached her limit with his various messages. He thought she was now in bed with her guy, who perhaps didn't even exist, at all. Or that she was busy in some other way, because even that was a possibility. He thought, and thought, and thought.

Behind the two of them were endless conversations, mostly through messages. Mostly in a virtual world. Ever since she pulled a confession about his feelings for her out of him, everything had changed. At forty-two, he thought, he had realized she was the only real woman in his life. The one who wasn't his. Because she had a guy she was in love with, and with whom she was now, most likely, if that guy even existed, he thought, in bed.

There was no reply to the message even after a week. And before that, for months, not a day had passed without them messaging each other. Now it's over, he thought.

She won't talk to him anymore, after everything. After all the conversations, the excitement, the happiness, the sadness.

She won't talk to him, he thought, because she thinks he's boring. She won't talk to him, he thought, because she thinks it's better for her this way. She won't talk to him, he thought, because she's decided she just doesn't care. She won't, he thought, because they no longer work together and she doesn't need him.

She won't talk to him, he thought, because she believes he squandered his chance, back when, he mused, she might have given him an opening, when they were alone in the elevator and he didn't do the right thing. In the elevator, where she had invited him to wait, where she had an irresistible scent and did not resist a strong embrace of adoration which, however, was not enough.

She won't talk to him because she's getting laid nonstop, he thought. She won't talk to him because she's having a blast while he sinks into his thoughts, he thought. She won't talk to him because she's with important people, far from his insignificant self, he thought. She won't talk to him, he thought, because she thinks he's a weakling. She won't talk to him, he thought, because she thinks he's crazy. She won't talk to him, he thought, because she's busy with her child.

There was no reply after two weeks, nor after a month, nor after two months. All that time he blamed himself. He told himself he was a boring idiot and that's why she wasn't replying. He told himself it was surely and rightly better for her without him, and that's why she wasn't replying. That she was rightly not caring, and that's why she wasn't replying. That she rightly didn't need him, and that's why she wasn't replying. That he was a cretin, he told himself, who had squandered the chance she might have given him, back when they were alone in the elevator and he didn't do the right thing, so she was rightly not replying now. In the elevator, where she had invited him to wait, where she had an irresistible scent and did not resist an embrace of adoration which, however, was not enough.

He told himself that she was surely, and rightly, and relentlessly, getting laid, and that's why she wasn't replying, and that he, a wanker, he told himself, couldn't, he thought, give her good sex.

She wasn't replying because she rightly thought he was a weakling, he told himself. She wasn't replying because she rightly thought he was a lunatic, he told himself. She wasn't replying because, he told himself, she was taking care of her child. And he also told himself that it was the least likely reason she wasn't replying because she was taking care of her child, and the most likely reason was that she was rightly and relentlessly getting laid while he was in his thoughts.

If she wasn't really getting laid, rightly and relentlessly, then she was surely, rightly and relentlessly, having a crazy good time, he told himself, while he was in his thoughts, and that's why she was rightly not replying. If she wasn't really having a crazy good time, rightly, crazily, and relentlessly, he told himself, while he was entertaining himself with his own thoughts, then she was rightly with important people, far from his insignificant self, and that's why she wasn't replying.

The critical three months passed, and there was still no reply. And then, naturally, what happened to all the countless other men before him happened to him, after three months in the same or a similar situation.

Suddenly, he was no longer forty-two, but sixty-two. Suddenly, his penis had evaporated. Suddenly, as is biologically the way, he had gained about fifteen kilograms. Suddenly, his hips had widened. Suddenly, his breasts had grown. Suddenly, he had entered menopause. Suddenly, she started baking cakes, wearing polka-dot dresses, and suddenly, she received her retirement notice.

Returning from the health center where she had gone to schedule her cataract surgery, all red-faced with her makeup melted, she suddenly met her.

The Belgrade heat was oppressive, shimmering off the asphalt, making the air thick and heavy. Yet, amidst the scorching concrete and the cacophony of the city, she looked impossibly appealing, exuding a radiant charm that defied the discomfort.

She flashed her a wide smile, revealing divine, perfectly white and teeth that once tore at his soul and heart. Her sunglasses were completely dark, so she couldn't see those alluring eyes.

"Oh, good afternoon! How are you?" she asked her warmly.

"Hey, there, gorgeous! I heard about your transformation, you're looking good! How did you get through it? I mean, get through it okay?"

"Knock on wood, everything's fine, hee hee hee... To be honest, I'm with my grandchildren all day... How's your little daughter?"

"Great, gorgeous, she's in third grade now..."

"Already?! It's unbelievable how time flies. The future belongs to the young. It was so good to see you. I'd love to get together again soon, but I guess you're pretty busy with work..."

"Ugh, don't ask! Now you don't give a damn, I mean, you're a pensioner. Hahahaha... I mean, 'damn', what a dumbass I am. Hahahaha... Sorry, I have to run, work..."

"I understand completely... What can you do. Take care in this heat! It was truly a pleasure to see you, even if it was just for a little while. Say hi to your little girl!"

"I will, gorgeous, thanks. It was nice to see you too... Bye!"

"Have a pleasant day!"