Spring Waltz

Abeer (he loved dragging it long) and I, we used to be good friends back in our childhood days but as ages rolled by and my career-oriented goals came to a sharp focus I fell back, in our friendship. He went ahead, without me. I wouldn’t blame him for that but somewhere deep down there I had felt a tad bit sad, no bitterness though, it was a mixture of sadness and guilt that the vacuum had originated from. We still go to the same school though, we’re still neighbors, the only thing that has changed is that I don’t see Abeer as the same friend anymore. Ever since I stopped tagging along with him to his buddy-gatherings and play-station evenings, our equation has changed. More so, my equation with him has changed if that’s what you want to know. Somewhere in the midst of sand-castles, Lego-blocks and many a hair-pulling, I had distanced myself from being his friend anymore. Abeer was quite a looker, even when he was merely a boy, he had the ability to fascinate people with his charm, while I a plain Jane became his tag-along friend, an extremely average looking girl who was only good at studies and bridge. Yes, I have been good at cards ever since my grandma taught me how to play it. A game absorbed in solitude became my best friend when boredom took over me occasionally.  Nonetheless his rising popularity over the years pushed me to the back, of which I had nothing to complain of. But Abeer wasn’t a boy anymore, I could see he was growing gracefully into the blossom he was supposed to be. Being a ‘friend who’s a girl’ and a ‘girlfriend’ bear different meanings not only to the person who the girl is acquainted with but also for people around. They simply don’t see you as anything but a friend. For me that meant a cul de sac, which had no future to begin with. If I was only supposed to be his friend merely, I’d rather not. Might as well call me selfish, but I had my own heart as well, my heart which I couldn’t afford to get shattered into pieces which might get to a point beyond retrieval! Hence, I left the picture before Harry and Hermione could form the golden duo because I didn’t want to get trapped in a ‘prospect-less loveless scenario’. Now that you’ve already guessed, yes, I fell in love with my friend who is also my neighbor. I hurt him in elementary school but that’s all in the past. I believe I did him a favor, as we as individuals are extremely different. He’s into sports while I’m more inclined towards academics. He doesn’t care whether he goes to university or not while I’ve already decided upon the university that would lead to the fruition of my career. All he wants to be with, is his ball to play soccer with. Forever.

As we drifted apart over the years with our different priorities, him dedicating himself towards his sports career and with my entrance exams coming up, we hardly saw each other, at all. I would secretly cherish his boisterous laughter which would ring like the bells even on a winter night. He was happy and that was all I wanted, all I could ever wish for, after that his father, his hero he’d say passed away last winter. That winter wasn’t the same anymore, the entire locality was immersed in a heavy, somber silence, it was so heavy I felt tears sting my eyes as I felt the familiar asthmatic heaviness return. That winter my asthma returned. Again, after so many years. The doctor said it was because of some kind of shock and anxiety that had caused a mental scar somewhere deep, so deep that even I couldn’t reach myself. Night long I’d stay awake staring into the ceiling, listening to Abeer’s pain-stricken moans. All I could feel was a terrible sense of remorse and guilt at not being able to do anything after how I’d pushed him away. We’re not friends anymore nor were we strangers, the middle-path of which was unknown to both of us. All I could do was cry along with him. Silently, within and within. He was there for me when Grandma passed away but why could I not be beside him when his one and only father had passed away? I was a coward, slave to my own high and mighty pride that stretched beyond me. I was afraid of being a friend again. After what I’d done to him, just because of my selfish, over-judgmental assumptions.

That winter, the night his father passed away it rained heavily. Neither the rain nor the storm was an expected one. It came out of nowhere just as the news of his accident did. It was all so simple for the police to hurry the briefings and do away with the body to the mortuary. The torrential downpour had reduced the visibility, there was a truck coming from the opposite side, too late to cease. What the mother and son underwent can never be expressed in words. A family ceased to exist all of a sudden as one night my mother broke the news to me. More like the news broke me than I ever could be. “Abeer is suffering from pancreatic cancer.” I could only stare at her face as she nodded her head. “Doctor said, he has chances, to survive this odd.” I could not go to him as he was undergoing chemotherapy and the doctor had barred everyone, even his mother. All he could do was sit at the balcony. I’d observe him, quietly, I was too scared to face him. He was a brave-heart, despite all the odds, he was still fighting. One morning as I tiptoed out to water my flowers, I came face to face with him. He was looking at me or was it my direction? My heart started beating rapidly, my fingers became numb as I gripped the railing. His face bore the same beauty he’d always had, but he looked exhausted. He looked like a soldier who’d fought many a battle at the front, yet his spark hadn’t died down. “How long did you plan upon hiding?” “Eh?” How did he know? He smiled, there were wrinkles more like lines of tiredness on his beautiful face. His head was wrapped in a woolen cap, I know his mum had made it. “I don’t know what…?” He smiled, again, my heart tugged at the final strings I’d been left with. “It’s okay. Nonetheless, how have you been?” He asked so simply. Yes. Just like that. Like nothing has changed between us. Was he even aware how I feel about him, or is he pretending to not know?! The entire school knows about it, then how come…? “I…errm…have been fine…” Why was he being like this all of a sudden? “How are you?” I bit my tongue having had said that. Obviously, he isn’t well, he’s already suffered enough to answer a dumb question like that. “Have seen better days…” He laughed a bit, there was sadness in his voice. My ears hurt from the way my heart was pounding. All I could hear was gurgled sounds from around, including his. I could hardly pay attention, at all. I heard him sigh as he lifted his hand to see the time. “Time’s up I guess.” He looked at me, his eyes haven’t changed in years. They’re the same hazel brown but today they’re different. They looked as if they wanted me to know something? Know what? “I’ll see you later.” With that he wheeled in on his battery-operated chair. He didn’t even wait for my reply, like always. “Hey! Let’s have your favorite spaghetti bolognese this afternoon?” That very afternoon I had not turned up and never did after that.

Now that we’d talk on regular terms over the balcony my parents were curious and happy at the same time. I could hear his slightest movement from my window. When we’re young he’d leap into my room from his window, we’d end up playing Uno over pasta and ESPN commentaries. I’d show interest in soccer only because that made him happy. His every whiz-whiz movement was mapped up in my head and heart that I knew what he was up to. He was like a star who’s better appreciated from afar, you go near and you’re extinguished. It fell similar to something like that. I was laying on my bed, I’d thrown the covers off, the AC had broken down some days back and honestly, I didn’t feel like burdening my parents with the machine. So, when it didn’t rev up like it always did upon my working on it, I left it there. I’d stopped listening to Imagine Dragons since we broke up as friends. Imagine Dragons couldn’t inspire me anymore so I resorted to listening to the night-call of the different nocturnal birds. I was busy figuring out which bird it was when someone spoke, “It’s the nightjar.” I pushed myself up on my elbows to look into a shining pair of hazel-brown pool of molten liquid. The eyes had a lustrous pool of swirling emotions. He was staring out of the window, at the sky. I couldn’t see from my side how the sky looked like. “It’s beautiful tonight, the sky you know?” I stopped staring as I realized how easily he could read me, like all those years back. Can you read my heart now, Abeer? “Yes…” I coughed at that and looked at him questioningly. “I mean yes, yes, I’d love to touch the sky. One day. With my ball.” He loved his sport so much that it hurt to see him lying invalid for sometime now, vulnerable. He was partially bathed in the moonlight, illuminating every feature that stood out. Why not beyond the sky, like infinity? “Will you teach me to play cards like the last time you’d promised?” Last time? It’s been that long, has it? I fumbled for a proper reply. “Why not? Sure, I will.”

The next three days I taught him the rules of cards from my yard, while he attentively studied from his own. Each of us was ready with our cards on the fourth day, as Abeer was wheeled out with his mother helping him out. Mrs. Roy was a wonderful woman, cheerful and jovial, but the tragic events had already taken its toll on her physique, I could see. Yet she didn’t back down, just like her resilient son. Like mother like son. After a game of four or five Abeer was finally able to get hold of the tricks but nonetheless the game ended with me being the winner. Before we called it end for the day, he looked me in the eye and said, “Must you play with my heart(s) that badly?” I thought he was referring to the cards, it was while I was preparing my bed at night that I realized what he had meant. That cheeky brat.

Next day, we’re scheduled to have another game but he never came. It was half past eleven when I called him up. His mother received the call. “I’m really sorry, you’d to wait this long. Actually, Abeer is feeling a bit low today, the doctor has asked him to take rest.” This made me feel sick for some reason and my anxiety trebled with my impatience. My father asked me if I could visit Abeer, my mother could only plead, if I’d make an exception by breaking the age-long vow I’d made to myself. Alas, I couldn’t do so nor could I rest in peace. The entire day, his curtains were shut close, not a chink to see through, to have a look at him. I felt restless every passing second till his mum assured me of his improving condition, in the evening. At night, I kept my curtains open but in his room the lights were out. I hadn’t realized when night had vanished in the thin air as the crows had given call to the beginning of another day. I felt groggy and tired, my back hurt from bad sleep position. I felt the door to my room open and close. I leaped up to find myself face to face with none but Abeer. I was suddenly aware of my state. I was still in my nightgown. I quickly pulled the covers to my body as Abeer nonchalant of my condition moved about on his chair. He kept looking at my study-table and my mood-board. “You still have this?” He’d made it for me so that I could make whatever I liked and stick them then and there. “Yes.” It came in a whisper. I was finally coming out of my daze-like condition, “How’re you feeling?” He looked at me laughing, “As cheerful as ever.” Liar. Why would you, why not even for a second let your heart out to me? “My doctor says I’m improving.” He was scratching his wrist where the ivy is always attached. It was swollen and red. “Can I touch it?” I was not myself anymore, I was moving like my heart wanted me to be. He looked up suddenly embarrassed. “Huh, what?” I pointed towards his wrist. He nodded and faced away. I took his hand, gingerly. Laying my index and middle finger around the area, I applied light feather touches. He flinched. I shot my hand away at this. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” He sniggered. “That doesn’t even count as a touch, then how can you hurt me?” I looked at him, trying to figure him out. His eyes softened but his face hardened. “This is where you hurt me, terribly.” He took my hand and laid my palm flat on his chest, right where his heart was. It was a warm feeling; the rhythm was calm unlike mine. “You make me calm.” And with that he gently caught hold of my lower head and pushed me towards him. For a moment I thought I was dreaming, but there I was, kissing my love. It was a gentle peck, sweet enough to melt my insides. I felt my ears and cheeks burn as he held me between his hands. I couldn’t look at him anymore. All my pride and audacity had suddenly deflated and parachuted away. I don’t know what came over me but I suddenly blurted out, sobbing. “Will you let me take care of you?” Abeer’s smile broke through every wall I’d ever built against him. It was useless fighting against my feelings, I had finally been vanquished. “You idiot!” He exclaimed, “I’ll be glad to have you by my side, all the time.” I pressed my head against his, the soft fabric of the wool brushed against my forehead as our breaths mixed together like old times when we’d end up breathless on the merry-go-round. “Spring has finally come.” “Huh? But it’s summer now.” His laugh echoed as he said, “Idiot, you’re my Spring!”