Where are you now? by Debora Lucken (free ebook reader for pc .txt) đ
- Author: Debora Lucken
Book online «Where are you now? by Debora Lucken (free ebook reader for pc .txt) đ». Author Debora Lucken
At the eve of my wedding, I allow myself one last trip... down Memory Lane.
Summer 1999. Do you remember it, Matthew?
Do you recall our eyes meeting across a table full of friends?
And me asking you âWanna come to Squeezy?â
And you, confused like a puppy, asking back âWhatâs Squeezy?â
I was smiling. I know I was, while telling you âThe new club, down Merington Street. Itâs supposed to be very good.â
Iâve never been shy and even the idea that someone could be so didnât quite fly with me. But you were, werenât you?
Did I scare you that night? Is that why you declined my invitation?
I will never know, I guess, but that night didnât really matter.
That night I didnât know you yet. That night I didnât love you yet. That night I didnât know that I would regret not spending more time with you when I could.
You know, Matt, I always associate you with travelling. Every time I go to an airport or even a train station, I always, always look for you amongst the sea of travellers. I know you only left once, but donât forget, that was also the last thing I saw you doing.
Or maybe, itâs just that Iâve imagined you coming back to me so many times...
At the beginning of July, we met again. Different table, same friends, same beautiful blue eyes. Yours.
âHiâ Was all we managed to say to each other for almost the whole evening.
âAmy, are you going to Squeezy?â Which of my friends told you my name?
âNo, that placeâs overrated, if you ask me. Weâre off to Bulldog.â I replied.
âThe... dog?â You asked uncertain and I laughed. It was just so funny... you, you were just so much fun to be with.
âWanna tag along?â I was trying to sound indifferent, but Dear God, I really wasnât. The way you looked at me that night changed me somehow.
Your eyes, your beautiful smile, and the kindness of your voice... they all changed the way I look at things. From that night on, Love had an image and it wasnât only a word. Love became you, and you became my love.
Matt, do you remember? You did come with us that night, but didnât say much to me all evening. You didnât try to kiss me, you didnât dance with me, you didnâtâ look my way when other guys were much bolder than you. If Iâd gone for someone else that night, things would have been very different.
For one, I wouldnât have driven you to your car. And I would have wished we could have been alone. And, the next day, you wouldnât have texted me very early just to make sure Iâd get to my study group on time.
How did you get my number?
I asked you after your first message.
Your red-headed friend gave it to me.
I too was red-headed at the time.
Cool! Thanks for waking me up. Iâd better get ready now.
When I came back from the shower, your message was waiting for me.
Donât you want to know why?
I replied:
Why... what?
It took you less than a second to answer me back
Why Iâm waking you up.
The answer seemed obvious to me
Because last night I kept telling you, and everybody whoâd listen, that I had to study today, even though itâs a Saturday?
While I was blow-drying my short hair you wrote again.
Wrong! Itâs because I stayed up all night thinking about you and plotting ways to be in touch with you. Did it work?
I smiled, excited, ecstatic...
I guess it did... Well done! ;)
If youâd been in my room that morning youâd have had no doubts that my message didnât express at all what I was feeling. But my racing heart did.
It took you another 3 messages to ask me out and it took me a lot less to say yes.
Was it cold or warm the night of our first date? Was it a Saturday or a Monday? Did it take me long to get ready? Was I late?
I honestly donât remember those little details, but I do remember your sweet eyes looking at me and your smile shining for me.
What did we drink? Where did we go?
I donât know, but itâs all right... itâs no longer important.
That night you told me about your desire to become a pilot.
âFlying places is my dream.â You said âIâve a pilot licence for the little ones, but I really want to fly bigger planes.â
I guess itâs weird to hear a 19-year-old telling you such an unrealistic dream.
âI wanna be a writer.â I replied, the way teens do when confessing dirty secrets to each other.
I didnât really think youâd ever be a pilot, just as I didnât really believe in my writing skills. âDreams,â I added âare so great, arenât they?â I smiled and took a sip of whatever was in my glass.
âTheyâre even better when they become true.â That one little sentence, those words that you said so casually, haunted me for years.
How right were you, Matt? How did you know?
Did I dream the way you kissed me in your car before driving me home?
Oh, Matthew, I might have forgotten many things about the way we were, but I could never forget your lips. Soft, gentle, sweet.
The taste of tobacco in our mouths and my peachy lipstick makes the memories of that kiss so much more special.
Nothing could stop us, then. You would come to find me wherever I was and, more often than not, youâd scoop me away from my study group. The way you made love to me for the first time was magical. Iâd never thought or even imagined sex could feel that good and that right.
Hey, Matt, I know itâs embarrassing, but... do you remember? We did it everywhere!
In your car, in my car, on the roof of my school and in the classrooms. However, the best one remains the time in Summerfield. The ground was painful and we did get bitten by all sorts of mosquitoes and got some bruises here and there, but Matt, making love with you under the starry sky of my 19th summer, surrounded by fireflies, is one of the few memories of my life that are worth reliving when I die.
âAmy, letâs go somewhere before you restart college.â You proposed one day towards the end of August.
âIâm kind of broke. Where can we go thatâs cheap?â
Mind you, I would have gone anywhere you wanted.
âMy parents have a house in Bath. Wanna go there?â
You didnât have to ask me twice. And, in less than a week, we were there, walking the touristy streets of such a beautiful city.
âIâm off to Fort Piece in Florida in a month.â
Your words didnât quite get me or vice versa, I guess.
âFlorida... America?â I asked.
âOf course, where else?â You laughed a little, without considering that you going on holiday without me didnât exactly make happy. Was I that addicted to you?
âWho are you going with?â I asked.
âNobody! Iâm going alone.â Your answer seemed obvious. I was clearly missing something.
âAre you going there on holiday?â I knew, I already knew the answer to that silly question.
âNo, Amy... Iâm going to make my dreams come true.â
Did you realize that part of me was already dying?
âIâve enrolled in a flight training school over there. If everything goes to plan, Iâll be a pilot in 4 years!â
Why were you so happy then? Why werenât you more upset about leaving me behind?
âDonât cry Amy. Please, be happy for me.â
I blinked. Oh, I was crying. I blinked again, and thatâs when I woke up from our two months of love. The horrible part was that I still loved you. It took me all of my courage, only the sort of courage a woman is capable of, to smile, dry my tears and lie to you.
âIâm sorry. It must have been the shock. Of course Iâm happy for you.â
I even hugged you, I let you kiss me, cook dinner for me, pour me delicious wine and let you talk all evening about Florida, and all the things you wanted to do and see there. Later, I let you make love to me and for the first time, I didnât feel anything. By telling me you were leaving me, you started a process of slow murder.
The last month together in London, I attempted to understand you. I really did. Were you honest every time you claimed to love me? Did you even care about me? More and more questions that will never get answered.
âI donât think you should see me off tomorrow.â
That was probably your final blow in your attempt to kill me.
âI donât think I should either.â More lies.
You know what? I did come. At the airport I was there. I saw your parents wishing you good luck. I saw your little brother hugging you, but I stayed away from your party. A cross between a stalker and a spectator of a show I desperately wanted to be part of. Why couldnât I find the courage to come out and let you see me cry? Why couldnât I say goodbye to you, ever?
And, more importantly, why I could never hate you is still a mystery to me even now, 10 years later.
A few months after you left, as I was still trying to get over you, I did receive your card and one of our photos with it. Of course, I can still remember perfectly what it said.
âSomewhere, between yesterday and tomorrow, our Love will live forever.â
Your words, once again, haunted me for a long time. Did that mean that you still cared? Why did you leave then? Of course, you will never answer those questions, but itâs all right now. I found out the answers by myself. You were simply braver, less selfish and more mature than me. Now I understand that being tied up to someone and somewhere at 19 is wrong. Now, I appreciate that what you did was to make our love story memorable and not just lived.
With you by my side, I couldnât have been the woman I am today. I wouldnât have worked so hard to become the strong and opinionated me that I am now. I wouldnât have tried to achieve anything, because with you I thought I had everything life had to offer.
So, this is it, then. Our love storyâs journey ends here. I wonder when exactly you left the ride and how long I kept going round and round and round in the same empty carriage. But now, I too get off and leave our memories behind. And with confidence and a smile on my face, I think of you, because once upon a time, I loved you.
Comments (0)