Twenty Years

You check your watch. Seven and a half hours before your flight will take you halfway across the world.

You double-check your bags even though you know you’ve meticulously packed everything you could possibly need. Extra shirts? Check. A suit for special occasions? Check. Comfortable shoes for every day and formal shoes to go with the suit? Check. Your passport is in your laptop bag. Your cellphone is in the pocket of the coat you're wearing.

You check your watch again. Only ten minutes have passed. To a young adventurer, eager to start a new life, ten minutes is too long. To others who hover between going and staying, between following their dreams or following their heart, ten minutes is too short.

You go around the house with your mental check list, making sure the windows are shut, the curtains closed, and the electricity turned off. But another part of your mind is whirling. In seven hours, you’ll be in another world, another timezone.

That’s almost 12 hours time difference. That’s more than 12,000 miles apart. That’s approximately 12 months of not seeing her.

You check your watch again. Another ten minutes. What will you do with the time to spare? Go to the airport early and wait there? Not such a bad idea, maybe. That way, you don’t have to rush. You can spend some time reading at a coffee shop, catching up on the latest news or researching the places to go. She gave you a list, didn’t she? She handed it to you with excitement brimming in those brown eyes you’ve gazed into for more than twenty years. Eyes you know so well, eyes that have looked at you, have seen you without judgements or reservations.

You lock the door firmly behind you, haul your luggage into the trunk. It’s a beautiful afternoon for driving. If only...you find your mind drifting, thinking of all the missed opportunities. Hadn’t you once said you’d go on a road trip together? Hadn't you both planned on ditching your work for a day? Hadn’t you promised to... Funny how our lips carelessly say the secret yearnings of our hearts out loud. Funny how the timing is always off. Funny how dreams are wishes your heart makes but no one ever really says how often they come true. Funny how you've made so many plans with her, plans that will have to wait again. That's all you seem to do—wait. Wait. Wait.

You look at your watch, a thought taking shape on the edges of your mind. What if...? Yes, you can make it in time. Less than a couple of hours to her place and from there, two hours to the airport before your flight leaves. There might be no other chance. Suddenly, everything becomes clear, like all the stars in the universe have aligned for this one moment, this one chance.

The air leaves your lungs in one whoosh. A sudden urgency fills the air. You back out of the garage, down the main street, and into the highway. “There’s no backing out now,” you murmur to yourself. Twelve months is too long to leave things unspoken between you. Twelve months is too short to summarize your twenty years together.

---

“What are you doing here? Isn’t your flight today?” Does she look pleased to see you or is that a trick of the eye, a trick of the light?

The afternoon casts a pale glow on the room. Absentmindedly, you notice the muted colours of the walls, her blouse, your coat. Soft, nostalgic, as if reflecting a thousand unspoken longings that have arrived from the past to the moment where you both now stand. Out of the corner of your eye, you take in her face, almost as familiar as your own. The dimple on the left side of her cheek is still there. The sides of her eyes crinkle gently when she smiles—were they always like that or are you just noticing now?

As if sensing your reflective mood, her brows furrow slightly, though the smile never leaves her eyes. She knows you, all of you. She knows every expression, even the thoughts that flit across your mind before you try to hide them. She knows every mood. How many times has she come to cheer you up even though you never said anything?

How could it have taken so long for you to notice?

What more can you do? You silently chide yourself. Might as well go with it as you planned on the way here. You look at her face, at her gaze that is both open and thoughtful. “Just say it,” you silently remind yourself. You knew you’d regret it if you didn’t.

“I need to ask you something...tell you something.” She doesn't say a thing, only gazes at you steadily, waiting for you to continue.

"Remember that first day when we met? When I saw you walking down the hallway, I thought you were the prettiest girl I had ever seen. I wanted to introduce myself but I was afraid, I was stupid. I'm glad we became group mates for the science project, otherwise, we'd have never known each other." You wince slightly. What are you rambling about?

She says nothing but waits patiently. She's always been that, always patient, always kind.

"It's been so long, you know. But I never forgot that moment. I never forgot how you took my breath away then, just as you take my breath away every time I see you, every time we're together." The words tumble out in a rush. "You don't know it, but I...I've always liked you. Always loved you. I've been afraid to say it because I didn't want things to be different between us. I was afraid of losing you. I didn't want our friendship to change...if-if something went wrong between us. But I can't fight it anymore. I can't stop myself from thinking of all that you mean to me. All that you've always meant to me. And now, I'm afraid it's too late for that. With this transfer. With going away for one year."

Your heart is thundering in your ears. You risk a look at her and catch a glimpse of the surprise in her eyes before another look replaces it. It's a look you can't interpret, it's a look you've never seen.

"I wanted you to know before I left. And I-I know that it probably came as a shock, but I didn't want to spend the next twelve months regretting that I never said anything to you. Because I know I should have long ago."

She just looks at you with that unreadable expression on your face. Your heart is hammering so loudly and when she finally speaks, it is so soft you have to strain to hear her.

"I-I need time to think. I mean, you're leaving and you'll be gone for a year. Can you wait for my answer?" She bites her lip. For the first time in all the years you've known her, she looks so uncertain, so lost, so vulnerable.

You nod. "Of course. Take your time. I'll wait for as long as it takes."

"Twelve months is too long." Her eyes find yours. "But twenty years is even longer."