Memory

Commuters walked in and out of the buses in the bus stations, cooping-up in the small places to reach their destination. As the bus stopped from one station to another; to move in and out, there is an intense barged among the travellers. Everyone wanted to move out first and vice versa even when all knew that bus wouldn’t stir until everyone were in or out. One who had their elbows into the other’s stomach earned tutted looks yet none utter a word. Nonetheless, it was a regular thing for everyone.

It was the least of your concerns. You crammed between two brawny men, not really feeling a need to reach out for the support. Even if the bus jerked, you were be one hundred percent sure, you will not fall. All you felt was the soft panic that grew or faded depending on your thoughts. You decided to calm yourself but for then it seemed almost impossible. Everything hinged on what you do when you see her, and once done, it can never be undone. You tried to think straight whilst somehow reaching for your phone deep inside the jeans pocket and successfully pulling it out.

11:45AM; it read.

If the bus reached on time, you were sure you won’t miss the last few minutes of meeting her before she is away. You tried to think about something else. Something positive. You were quite glad that you aren’t claustrophobic unlike your older sister. She would be terrified even at the mere thought of getting into such crowded bus.

You remembered your sister boiling the kettle for the third time that morning, already filled to brim with tea and wired with caffeine to make it dark and strong, humming a tune you were not familiar with. No wonder you were polar opposite to her. She looks at you over the shoulder; your cheek resting on the cold stone island, as you watched the rain slap against the window.

“Are you going to tell her or regret it for the rest of your life?”

She said it for one final time and you knew she was not wrong. But you were afraid and nervous. You feared the outcome. You thought of all the possibilities, it included the raven-haired girl never talking to you again.

You arrived at your destination before you knew. Maybe you were too busy overthinking things the way you always did. Especially when it came to this. You promised yourself to buy a tub of chocolate fudge ice cream on the way back home if things didn’t go as you wanted it to and spend the rest of the night watching retro movies whilst stuffing the scoops into your mouth.

You realised it was raining again. The sky is tar-black and the large clouds that over casted the sky moved towards you. Up to that moment, the sky was post-card perfect, but it was changing. Soon there was a down-pour. People either opened their umbrellas or ran for the shelter. You rummaged through your bag for umbrella only to realise you forgot it again. There was no way you can wait until the down-pour stops, instead you sprinted to the railway station before you could think of an alternative. You were bad at alternatives. The first decision was always the right one for you no matter how hasty it seemed. Flashing drops of cold rain kissed your skin, rough. In no time, you were soaking wet from head to toe. Thanks to your waterproof bag, your book inside was safe and dry. You wanted to give it to her before the departure.

“Just say it”, you silently reminded yourself. You knew you’d regret it if you didn’t. This was one thing you kept reminding yourself for a couple of days now, not wanting yourself to change your mind.

When the cars passed by you, it’s headlights reflects in the water that lay over the pitch-black hardened surface. A white line that ran down the centre, relatively unbroken compared to the scarred concrete. Everything around you looked darker, from the roads to the new leaves on the trees alongside the cobbled pavements, to the drenched bricks of the tiny boutiques and cafes. Cars honked at one another in the traffic jammed lanes due to water-clogging. Drainages systems were never at it’s best and now after ages people stopped complaining. But you had much better things to worry about.

No sooner you reached the railway station, you saw the crowd in front of you. The end of summer. A long queue to book the tickets and enquire at the last moment reached up to the entrance. Wet tiled floors made it worse. Everyone seemed in a hurry and in a couple of minutes you had your white shoes ruined by someone stomping on them as they pushed themselves through the crowd. The waiting hall was full of passengers of all kind. You name it. The last time you were at the railway station in the wee hours, it looked like a murder scene before the crime. It was only you except for the snoring old night security guard. Now it was in contrary.

You craned your neck to the best of it’s limits to find a familiar face. Or head. Or an outfit.

It took only a couple of minutes to find the familiar girl. Her raven tresses cascading on the peach pink hoodie caught your eyes. This was the hoodie you selected the last time she dragged you for shopping. You were pleased to see her like the decision felt right. But it wasn’t happiness. Happiness was an absence of all negative emotions and the presence of only positive one. It wasn’t. You were anxious and nervous. You were not ready to face her neither were you going to return back without telling her after traveling all the way to the railway station.

Your feet subconsciously moved, pushing yourself through the jammed place. Lips curving upwards, and eyes fixated at the only human you could see, you anxiously stuffed your went hands into the side pockets, clutching on to the soaked fabric.

“Just say it”, you silently reminded yourself. You knew you’d regret it if you didn’t.

It didn’t last long. You retraced your steps. This was something you least expected. To be honest to yourself, you did not expect it at all. A guy with mud brown motorcycle jacket walked up to her with a bag in his hand. The bag looked fancy. Someone else was with her. That someone was not her cousin. She did not have any siblings either. He tenderly pecked her cheek causing her to smile. Pale skin of her face flushed with crimson a little as her fingers grabbed the tiniest bit of his jacket to pull him closer. You watched him hand her the bag, as she mouthed a gratitude ending it with a hug.

“Excuse me”.

That female voice interrupted your thoughts as you turned over your shoulder at the direction of the voice.

“You are standing on my way”, she stated. “I’m sorry”, you mumble an apology, moving sideward.

You look away; at the kiosk beside you then trailing your eyes to your murky tennis shoes. It was only a dull pain. You turned around, rushing outside.

You realise something. Emotional pain has a biological purpose, to teach, to educate away from the unhealthy problems and relationships. Were you right about not telling her? Not confessing those longed confessions? Was she going to accept them or never talk to you again? Was she going to laugh and say you gotta be kidding me? Did you do it right? Or did you miss an opportunity? Were you just too late? Now you will never know. You were already out in the rain again, walking past the parked cars.

But one thing was for sure, you will think of this and smile after years. The first time you travelled so long for confessing and returning back home with unconfessed feelings yet no regrets. You were wrong you would regret. Instead that day you realised it’s alright to move on. It’s alright if uncertainties make it hard for things to go the way you wanted.