Melting

How hot it was. How horribly hot everything was. When the popsicle was melting, I knew right away that my heart was already melted. You didn’t even notice, did you?

I didn’t know back then. I didn’t know that melting required a certain amount of diminishment of an essence. When this popsicle melted, it less of itself every single melt. Me? I was less of myself when I melted, too.

You know what? I didn’t mind being less every single day as long as it brought "more" of “us”. And this acceptance had successfully confused me from time to time. The first time you raised your voice, I was telling myself, “How does it come to this? Where was that sweet guy with the popsicle?”

The explosion was eventually resolved in a matter of minutes. It was so short that I didn’t even know what to make of it. You kissed me on my nose and my eyelid. You showered me with countless expressions of regrets. You told me it was a mere by-product of your bad day.

I was less of myself, so… yeah. One forgiveness was alright, right? But again, this forgiveness was also confusing. 

Last week, we went to that silly pretentious restaurant. It had lights and candles everywhere. You loved that restaurant, so I didn’t mind. We sat on the corner and the waitress came with our drinks. She spilled the drink and created red stain all over your newly bought white shirt. You were furious. You raised your voice again and you stringed a series of unthoughtful words.

The manager came to our attention and apologized for “our inconvenience”. I didn’t think it was his fault. Let’s be real. I wasn’t even convenient the first time I waltzed into this restaurant. I didn’t care about the lights and candles anymore. I didn’t care about the food.

“What happened?” I asked.

“That bitch spilled me the wine. That’s what happened.” I was frozen.

“No. I mean, why you have to approach the problem that way? Why don’t you just…”

“What?” And with that simple question, I stopped myself. You stared at me intensely. I know, I know. The suggestion was ridiculous. 

That night, you spilled your day, your work, and your next project with such enthusiasm. I was happy of course, because you were happy. But the question remained, “Where was the guy with the popsicle?”

Riana called me the other day. She was my dear friend. But you always forgot her name. I couldn’t help to wonder why.

“Hey girl! How are you doing?” She asked me with such ease and lightness. It made me realized how I might had been tempered my own self lately. Especially when I was around you.

“I am fine. I am doing great these days.” Then, I went on and on about that fancy restaurant and how wonderful it was. I was practically bragging, but I didn’t know for what purpose and whose sake.

“Riana? Are you there?” She was too quiet and for a second, I thought I lost her.

“Are you okay?” There was patience in her voice and for some reason this made me laugh.

“What are you talking about? I told you. I’m fine. I am doing great these days.” Wait, didn’t I just say that? Was that my new mantra?

“No. Really, sweat pea. Are you okay?” There was a silence. It was brief, very brief. But that fleeting silence was enough to make me realize something.

“I just.. I was… I had a fight with him the other day. It was silly. Trust me. It was my fault. I talked back.”

“What do you mean you talked back? You always talk back. You talk back to me every single time.” She laughed. “It is your super power, girl!”

“Honestly, it was a small matter. It was nothing.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll decide for myself.”

When the conversation was finally over, I felt a high load of unexplainable hullaballoo was lifted. For some reason, I forgot how it felt like to be heard.

***

I couldn’t believe that it had been a year. That day was one of those rare celebrative moments. You brought me to that monumental place and I always remembered that bench. You told your stories there, we ate popsicles, and you confessed the ultimate truth that brought us together.

Again, we sat in that bench, the silent artifact of our love. And again, we ate those popsicles. I weirdly remembered what flavors. You had grape and I had root-bear. After a couple moments of silence, I thought it was time for me to say something.

“I was on the phone with Riana the other day.”

“Who is Riana?”

“She’s my friend. You met her a couple of times.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

“Anyway, we were gossiping about some issues in her office. It was interesting. I find it was actually…”

“Wait a second. Why should I care about Riana’s problem?” You stared at me with the same intensity you always had.

“I was...” I stopped myself and I didn’t know what I was waiting. Perhaps some ‘Please, tell me more’ or ‘What do you think about it?’. But I thought I set the bar too high for you. And this made me said, “Never mind.”

There was an alarm rang in my head. It got louder and louder and asked the same question over and over again. “WHERE WAS THAT GUY? Where was the guy with the popsicle? Where is he?”. But I snoozed it again.

We continued to sit in the silence with our melted popsicles and I couldn’t help myself to think how jeering it had been. She constantly asked about the guy with the popsicle, but there he was. He was precisely in front of me with his popsicle. I gave that answer to her, but she was dissatisfied. She shook her head every single time I came up with those explanations.

I looked at you while you were jollily licking your popsicle. I stared and I stared and I felt smaller in every single gaze. I felt lonely and for some reason it emphasized my invisibility.

It was a matter of time before you finally said it, "You are nothing to me now."

I was busy melting. I was less of my self every single melt. But, by the time it was completely melted, I had nothing left.

What happened? We were melting together, right? Or was it just me?