Then the phone rings

I can't believe what I'm doing. Suitcase in hand, I'm early for the next train, so I'm walking to the station. In spite of the sudden urge, I need to think about it. I don't know what your reaction will be. It's been a long time and I'm not sure if you'll like the idea of having me back. We lost contact a long time ago after parting amicably, no further communication between us. Nothing. I thought we were going to at least say hello in social media every now and then, or in a text, but neither you nor me took the initiative. Well, maybe I did. I sent you one of those silly gifs on your birthday, but you didn't respond to it, so I decided to ignore you back. But, believe me, these last few months, especially in April, when we should've celebrated our fifth year together, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. Why? I have not a clue. Why were you constantly in my thoughts? Why were you not leaving me alone? I even thought it might be some spooky message from the afterlife, and believing you might be dead, I checked your social media, but fortunately, you were happily posting your recipes, as always, and responding to every single one of your friends, so, yes, you were alive; and seeing you there, in a pic with your stupid cat, which, by the way, I dread to meet again, my heart skipped a bit and I realised I'm still in love with you. I am, believe me. 

That fateful day I was in shock when you told me you wanted to break up, that our relationship wasn’t going anywhere, that we were two strangers sleeping in the same bed, that you wanted freedom, you wanted to travel and meet new friends, that our living together wasn’t making any sense, anymore. Goodness me, where did all that come from? Yes, I actually agreed that we were not as close as we were at the beginning, when we never had enough of each other, but to the point of wanting a break up… that never crossed my mind. I fought my corner, trying to change your mind, suggesting solutions, as always, such a typical man, me; I even blamed myself, a strategy to win you back, but you sort of agree, heck, and I wasn’t expecting it. You were so convinced of what you wanted, looking at me with your poker face, that I eventually gave in, and the next day, I left, amicably. 

I tried to forget you and I actually did, or did I? Well, I didn’t forget your birthday, or checking your posts, your social media life. I didn’t stop remembering our most memorable moments, when we met, in Nigel’s party; our trips to Greece, to Spain, to Thailand, to New York, to Burnley to see your mother; the visits to the poshest restaurants we could find given your devotion to good cuisine, and of course our amazing love life, need I give you any details? But I had to move on, and I did, or did I? Well, I changed town, back to my roots for my sins; changed job; put on weight; tried to get a pet, but it didn’t work, animals is not my thing, and even grew a beard, something you would have hated. 

Wait a minute. I can see the station now, I’m about to jump in a train heading your way, but would you really want to see me like this? Two stone fatter with a beard worthy of an ancient prophet? Hell, yes, at least you’ll acknowledge that, like you, I love eating, only that I’m not so fussy; and the beard, well, a new look, just like you change your hair from pink to blue, to purple, and back to pink. 

You’ll probably wonder what got into me to decide to make such move. It was the picture with the cat, my heart skipping, and then, not being able to sleep, or to eat, having you constantly in my head. That’s why, this very morning I got up, picked my favourite clothes and left, not even stopping to think what I was doing. I’ll walk to the station, I thought, then I’ll think about it, and now I’m at the entrance, and for the first time since I closed my front door after me, I stop abruptly, people bumping into me and looking back with evil eyes. 

I’ve never done anything crazy. The queue is not that long, and it seems inviting. Seeing you again, how amazing would that be? Not sure you would agree. I can always go back home, nobody will notice, so I won’t look so stupid. You might not be home, you might have moved, who knows? And if you haven’t, you might be with company, but I doubt it, you told me quite firmly that you wanted freedom. No company, no relationship, that would be too soon, wouldn’t it? 

I get in the queue to get my ticket. A smile on my face. It’s happening. I’m getting so excited! Seeing you again! Then the phone rings. It's you. It's you! You? Now, that's spooky! I freeze and stand there confused, not knowing what to say, but I quickly move aside seeing that the big lady behind me seems really annoyed as |’m leaving a considerable empty space between me and the person moving in front of me. Your sweet "hello, it's me" melts me to the core, and I can't still find the words, but you seem chatty, happy, and I'd rather listen to you speak. I like being melted. Then you throw the bomb. You're getting married. To Nigel, that bald, lanky writer wannabe, good-for-nothing old geezer. And then, I find all the words to say, but I act nice, pretending I'm happy for you, though burning inside. I'm not letting you speak anymore, I don't want to be hurt any further, and I say all sorts of nonsense, lying to you and lying to myself, and then, still not letting you put two words together, I just say, look, I've got to go now, bye. That's it. Be happy. I don't care. Let's go back home. Wait a minute. I'm still carrying my suitcase, maybe the big lady will allow me to go back to my place in the queue. I'm buying a ticket, but I'm not going to the original destination. I'll go to the complete opposite cardinal point. Let's see what fate has in store for me.