I don’t know why, but listening to Niki’s Oceans & Engines suddenly makes me want to log in to this account.
I opened the draft section and I found this. Funny, I forgot that I had uploaded these pictures and left them just like that. It’s been six years since I took them when I visited New South Wales.
Wow, six years. A lot has changed in the past six years. My relationship, my career, my room, even my mobile phone has changed. Many parts in my life have changed. I wonder if I’ve changed too.
I guess I have.
You, of course, have changed too.
So I decided to finally give this draft what it truly deserves: to be shared with the world.
Looking at these pictures surely brought up some memories.
And I guess, at the end of the day, a lot of things in your life will only remain as memories. Encounters, travels, experiences, faces, sounds, smells -- everything will only be memories at which you will look back from time to time.
(I do hope that they will be good ones)
Ugh, I still want to live in this street. Look how serene it is.
I am still in love with this bookstore. I bought a copy of The Little Prince here.
Huh. Is this a sign from the universe for me to finally fill in the application for study in Australia?
Life is indeed odd.
Anyway, I’ll visit again. Hope next time I’ll bring some words with me here.
“All grief is real and all loss should be grieved.”
That's this song in a nutshell. That's what the song is all about.
I wrote this song a week ago, after I think about the losses that I've had over the past one year since the pandemic hit. I lost my old days and routines that (I realized) I'd taken for granted, I lost the job that I loved due to uncertainties that forced me to resign (though now I enjoy my new job too), I lost the usual nights I used to spend with my closest ones that now seem like a distant memory, and I lost many other things too—smaller things that many might find insignificant.
Of course, I could not compare these small losses to the loss of life of millions of people around the world during this pandemic. I could not compare my small griefs to the grief of those who mourn the loss of their loved ones. I even would not dare to compare my losses to the loss of those who lost their jobs, their sources of income, their assets, etc. I know that I can't complain much, as many people have it worse.
I know that many of you may also feel the same way. Which is why, I want to tell you this:
Whatever it is the grief that you feel—whether it's from losing a loved one, from missing your old life, from a break-up, from losing your chance to hold a wedding or graduation party, or even from losing your phone, your book, or your favorite lipstick—all is valid. All is real. All is OK for you to cry about.
Some losses may not be easy to overcome even after years passed, some may only take a few days to settle. But every loss is a loss. Your grief is yours; it is yours to grieve, in any way that will comfort your feeling, in any way for you to heal.
This is the first time I wrote a song and I am not even a singer. I don't even consider myself as someone who could sing well. But I hope that it can at least give comfort to anyone who find the lyrics resonate with their feelings. I hope it can give you reassurance that it's OK to grieve even the smallest loss you have.
It's OK to cry.
I couldn’t help but smiling a little when he threw me the question. I thought, would he, among dozens of long-lost friends I barely keep in touch with in the recent years, understand?
“Frankly, I don’t know,” I replied.
He chortled in disbelief. “You don’t know?”
I shook my head as I pursed my lips into a thin smile, perhaps hiding the actual words that could make it easier for him to know how I felt, if only I had chosen to spill them out.
“So you don’t even have any plan about what you’re going to do here?” he went on.
“Not even a little bit.” Again, I shook my head. “I just wanted to spend some hours in a train ride and the only destination that I could think of was this town.”
He nodded and hummed as he picked up his glass to drink the hot tea. When he put it down, he went to retort his idea about my sudden four-day trip to the town where he spent his university days in.
“So, is this trip—you know—kind of what they call as an escape? Like Eat, Pray, Love or something?”
I laughed, clearly in love with that idea. Might as well call this short journey as my version of Eat, Pray, Love, I thought. Except that it was much, much, shorter in time. And that I didn’t eat that much, I didn’t do ritual prayers (I have my reasons), and I wasn’t looking for love.
I was, in fact, running away from the latter.
It was barely two weeks before I stepped on Yogyakarta’s soil; the day when I suddenly realized that some parts of my life were crumbling down. I did not even have any idea about how I felt or what I wanted at that time. I wasn’t even sure of myself and I kept asking, have I done the right thing? Is it good for me, for us? Am I being selfish?
Perhaps, for long, deep inside I already know that I (we) have been standing on a rather shaky ground of relationship. My feet have been trying to keep my balance in between two worlds: mine and another world where feelings implicated my world. The latter is where you are. Or now I should say, were.
For some time, every time I had people asked me “how are you? Is everything fine?” I always answered with “Yeah, so, so. I am fine.” It came to a point where I asked myself, am I really okay? Did I say so because I did not know what I truly feel?
Or is it because I know that I am not okay, but I just don’t know what’s wrong?
Such questions kept nagging me for months until the day of our breakdown; when that “little” fight pushed you to pull the trigger, shooting me (us) with a bullet made of unspoken feelings that you’ve been hiding since only-God-knows-when. Everything just erupted back then.
(I should’ve realized it much sooner that you’ve been keeping the gun near to you every day in the last couple of months before we ended.)
I remembered there was so much anger mixed up with guilty feeling and sadness as I kept thinking to myself, is long distance relationship really a bullshit?
When we first started this relationship, both of us knew the consequences. We told each other that we would make it through, that we could make it work. Despite the circumstances, we were very optimistic that we could still support each other this way.
That we would always tell each other everything and talk about our problems, to find solutions and fix them together.
So, why, after years, all of our problems and fights seemed to still revolve around it?
For a whole month, days passed by in silence. I tried to reach you, but you seemed so far away. No texts, no calls, you just disappeared into thin air and there I was; blaming myself as I knew that I was the one who made this relationship harder.
In between those days, somehow I knew that I already lost you anyway.
You know what Alain de Botton said about theorists’ skepticism on love in his book entitled Essays in Love?
“…it is easier to impute similarity than investigate differences. We base our fall into love upon insufficient material and supplement our ignorance with desire.”
“In the perverse reality of love (love that is born precisely before we know) increased knowledge may be as much hurdle as an inducement for it may bring Utopia into dangerous conflict with reality.”
I read this book when I was on the train, in between sleeps and window-staring. When my eyes caught this passage, my mind flashed back to our last late-night call; when you were driving drunk and I was working on my side-job.
“You’re unlike any other girl I’ve dated before. And so when we were close back then, I feel challenged to date you.”
I remember you saying the words, somewhere in between my nags on why you drove after drinking too much and your gibberish talks about something else.
“So… you only saw me as a challenge then?”
There were more gibberish followed by cursing words. Seconds later you complained to me that a motorcycle almost hit you.
It’s a fact known by us both that we have striking differences. Not only in daily routines, but also in our likings. I read books while you barely touch one. You run business while I’ve got almost zero interest in it. We barely have common interests, except our love for Bombay Bicycle Club’s Luna.
But, hey, isn’t there something called “opposite attracts”? was perhaps what we believed back then (or we tried to believe, maybe). We mistook butterflies in our stomachs for signs that we should be together, while maybe the shivers only meant that we were hungry for someone to talk to or have coffee with.
Difference has two sides like that of a coin. On one side it fulfills each other’s emptiness, on the other side it can kill a relationship. When differences stop being laughed at and start to become subjects of emotional fights, it is when you know that things have fallen apart.
Without a word, I know that you, too, blamed the distance.
It was the end of April when you finally answered my call and agreed to meet me in Bandung.
During the whole month, my friends have repeatedly told me to just abruptly end things with you via telephone calls if you did not show up. I told them that I did not want to leave a bad aftertaste, especially because we also share the same circle of friends.
You showed up and hugged me with your usual gesture, like nothing happened. We sat face to face and you opened the conversation by pointing the fact that I finally started wearing glasses.
“So, I guess I should start first?” you said, calmly.
I nodded, crossing my hands on the table with my head hung low.
“I am sorry for having been missing for a month, it’s just… not easy,” you said.
I could understand, I said in silence as I continued to listen to your 30-days of contemplation.
“Apparently, I couldn’t stand the distance and you’re way too independent for me,” you said.
I smiled knowingly, but how could I tell you that I had seen this coming?
An ideal break-up is when no one from two parties in a relationship feels like being left behind. It is when two people know that things don’t work out anymore and breaking up is the way to make them stay sane.
At the time, I knew that we were on the same degree of wanting a separation.
“So, I guess we should just end this, then.”
“But, we are still friends, right?”
“Of course.”
And so you remind me of a saying,
if two past lovers can remain friends, it’s either they are still in love or never were.
I know which one we are.
Jakarta, September 2017.
P.S:
I know we already start our new lives apart from each other’s. I decided to write this because by the end of our last meeting in April you said “you never wrote about me. Write me something.” So this is it, for old time’s sake. I wish you happiness, always.
If two distant stars should someday cross and rule upon us, I want you to know that the space which sunders the moon from the sun never overshadows their quest to be here at once.
there's no moon tonight no signs of stars only a grey, cloudy sky that reminds me of you and the love, and everything we choose to hide in unspoken words that we left out in cold. I wonder until when we will run away in circle chasing the moonlight even though we know that the sun has no longer shine for what we seek. Yogyakarta, 2017 Marguerite
“Love is a painful, poignant, touching attempt by two flawed individuals to try and meet each other’s needs in situations of gross uncertainty and ignorance about who they are and who the other person is.”
Fantastic On Being conversation with Alain de Botton, who has written with uncommon insight and sensitivity about the central paradox of love and what makes a good communicator in romantic relationships.
It's raining here... again. Here, in the city, which sees thousands of souls trying their best to survive another day, every day, it's raining hard, again. Here, in the jungle, where more and more people coming to challenge their dreams, every day, it's raining hard, again. Here, in the chaos, where people keep running in circle to reach a place they used to call home, every day, it's raining hard, again. Here, in the nowhere, where I seek the missing pieces of myself that I've never had in the first place, every day, it's raining hard, again. It's raining here... again. Jakarta, Jan. 31, 2016. M.
Cuma mau ngasih pujian sebagai stranger. Kamu punya kemampuan dan pemikiran yang hebat banget dan jarang orang punya. gila. jaman sekarang masih ada yang kaya kamu. ternyata sedalem ini orangnya.
Hi stranger. I guess I should say.... thank you (?) Ah, kamu terlalu memuji. Di luar sana banyak yang lebih hebat dan lebih dalam pemikirannya dibanding aku. Seperti kamu, misalnya.
Have a nice day, sampai berjumpa jika dipertemukan :)
So I was just randomly opening an old box when I suddenly found a faded-colored paper folded inside one of my artwork. It was a letter that I intended to give to my old friend when he was supposed to leave abroad, but maybe I forgot to bring it during our farewell meeting.
And, I don’t know. I just want to share it here with you.
Dear friend,
So you need to go back to reality that awaits you there. Well, what’s life without farewells and encounters? We’ll see each other again soon.
Socrates once said that admirers are somewhat superior than lovers because they are purer and they love without having to receive back. Because they want the people they admire/love to grow and surrounded by goodness so the latter will be able to fly.
Believe me when I say that you’re one of the kindest person I’ve ever met and the most sincere lover out there.
So don’t ever question what’s wrong with you and your way of giving out your love because your way of loving people is a divine one. Your way might be closer to Socrates’ definition of admirers.
This is just a piece of my art, the first letter in my “Letters of Feelings”. I hope you will find someone who does not only love you, but admire you like you’re the only light bulb that is ever invented in the world.
Good luck with everything! See you in December. Be happy.
There were three things that Ann could never imagine to happen in her life. First, living without her phone even just for a day. Second, losing her favorite YSL’s Pink in Paris lipstick and having them sold out in stores. Third, sitting with Dylan Ash, having a drink with just the two of them.
But the latter now happened in just half a day away after their fateful encounter at the coffee shop.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Dylan frowned after Ann ordered a Jager Bomb, “I am just drinking a beer, yet you are ready to get drunk.”
“I don’t like beer. Never did and maybe never will. So, deal with it,” Ann replied nonchalantly.
“Oh, right, how could I forget,” Dylan chuckled, “My, my, I wonder why eight years don’t really change some people.”
Ann crossed her arms on the table, “So, you think I haven’t changed at all?”
“Let’s see… you’re still giving blunt remarks, having your strong personality, and dressing like Winona Ryder in her 20s. That’s all I can tell,” Dylan gave Ann an intriguing smile, “why don’t you tell me what I’ve missed?”
“Why don’t you go first?” Ann daringly asked him back.
“Okay, if that’s what you want,” Dylan paused for a while, biting his lips as his fingers kept touching his beer bottle. “So, I’ve been…”
For hours that passed by in a blink of eyes, they finally talked normally like two old friends catching up after years of M.I.A. They talked about their lives after high school.
Dylan, who dropped out from his law school to pursue his passion in architecture and now worked at one of the finest architecture firm in the UK. Then Ann, who graduated from a business school but ended up working as a copywriter in an advertising agency because she loved writing.
They talked about ideas; some they once had shared in high school and some that never left their minds even after they became grown-ups. Somewhere in between words, they entered a time machine that brought them back to their youth. When Dylan was the captain of basketball team and Ann was the head of school magazine at high school.
When ideas of changing the world were all seemed reachable. When reality did not bother them and idealism started growing wild.
They talked about their old friends from high school and were surprised that the ones who already married were them who they’d thought would not get married until 40. While those who had maintained their relationship for 8 to 9 years somehow failed to make it to the Altar.
“How ironic it is; you spent years in a relationship and got to know them more than a skin’s deep, yet ended up marrying someone who just dated you for months,” Dylan said.
“Time does not count. It’s the depth that matters,” Ann replied.
Still, there was a wall between them that they couldn’t break through. It was either because Ann intentionally avoided talking about it or Dylan was careful enough in choosing his words.
Or maybe, there was a rule about “No Reminiscing about the Past” in a manual book of How to Have a Conversation with Your Past Lover.
Somehow, they preferred to believe in the latter.
“So, your girlfriend—I mean, ex-girlfriend—cheated on you because you were too busy with work?” Ann repeated Dylan’s statement in disbelief.
Dylan nodded as he gulped down his beer until the last drop.
“Like, really? I mean, it’s such a lame excuse. You’re both adults and adults need to work,” Ann scoffed.
“Tell me about it,” Dylan rolled his eyes, putting down the empty bottle, “I wonder why women can’t understand the importance of career, really.”
“Hey—I don’t. I clearly understand,” Ann felt offended.
“Okay, some women,” Dylan raised his hands in front of his chest, as if defending himself, “you’re obviously not a part of that cult. You’re one of a kind.”
Ann raised her eyebrows, “Are you implying that I am weird?”
“Oh crap, women,” Dylan muttered under his breath, but Ann managed to hear him. When he caught her intimidating stare, Dylan abruptly cleared his throat and grinned.
“You’re not weird,” knowing that it was not enough to satisfy her, Dylan clarified his remark, “I mean, you’re different in your own way and that’s good. That’s why I like you.”
Ann felt a shiver right down her throat.
A waiter who brought her Tequila Sunrise and Dylan’s Black Russian to the table saved Ann’s awkwardness. She quickly distracted her thoughts, sipping her liquor a little too fast that she choked at the end. Dylan asked her if she was okay and she replied by moving her hand randomly.
Dylan chortled at the sight.
“What?” Ann asked, rather bluntly.
Dylan stared at her before he shook his head and said, “Nothing. I am still surprised that I can spend a night with you like this.”
“Yeah… I was thinking about that too,” Ann muttered.
“Isn’t it funny?” Dylan drank a quarter of his drink and put the glass down, “after all these years, we can finally sit together and talk. Something impossible for us to do back then.”
“What do you expect from 18 years old kids? Reconciling was as hard as telling your parents that you’ve been drinking liquor since you were 13,” Ann retorted.
Dylan smiled to himself as he gazed into an empty space beyond her, somehow nostalgically. Ann couldn’t help stealing glances at him, wondering why those deep eyes still caught her heart off-guard.
“What we had back then… it was really something, right?”
With just one short yet complicated question, Dylan broke both the wall and rules.
Ann looked into his eyes and saw his longing eyes staring back at her. As if the theory of gravity had failed her, she found herself drowning in a distinct nostalgic feeling. She wondered if what Dylan had said might be true; eight years don’t really change some people.
Perhaps, eight years also didn’t change some feelings.
“It was…” Ann’s voice trailed off.
“We were quite disastrous weren’t we? Fighting like a hurricane in the morning only to walk on rainbow in the afternoon,” Dylan chuckled.
“Even a disaster happens once in a while, you know,” Ann smiled knowingly, “yet there was never a week without fight for us; from unanswered calls to cancelled plans. Even a smile towards a stranger could ignite our fights.”
“Everything could be a reason for our feud, right?” Dylan asked rhetorically.
“Blame that temper of yours,” Ann emphasized, pointing her index finger towards Dylan, “I must say, your nonsense jealousy was always a pain in the ass.”
Dylan groaned mischievously. “Jeez, you still remember that?”
“How can I not? That one time when you hit a man who seduced me, you almost got us banned from the bar,” Ann slightly chuckled, “if it wasn’t for Kei whose parents owned the building, we would have said goodbye to our favorite saké.”
Dylan laughed along with her, but his smile faded in no time. He pursed his lips into a faint smile.
“I was such a jerk back then, right?” Dylan averted his eyes to her hands on the table, “I hurt you and I make you cry most of the time. Gosh, Ann, I am sorry.”
For a second, Ann thought he was just casually saying sorry, but his eyes told otherwise.
“What’s with that look?”
Dylan pursed his lips as he twirled his glass between his fingers. He inhaled and sighed, putting the glass down and entwined his fingers on the table.
“Just listen. There’s something that I’ve been wanting to tell you since years ago,” Dylan finally said.
Ann couldn’t find any word to say. Instead, she locked her feet under the chair—
“I am sorry. I really am,”
— hoping that it would wipe out the urge to run away from anything Dylan would unveil.
“This might be too late to say and you probably don’t care anymore, or you might have even forgotten about this. But, you see… the things I left unsaid end up making me feel guilty every time I remember you. I know this won’t stop unless I can tell this to your face.”
Dylan looked up, staring right at Ann’s stunned eyes and said, “I am sorry.”
“For when I hurt you and made you cry. For my childish acts and random tantrums. For not being thankful for what I had when I had you back then, when you actually deserved someone better than me.
“And for not fighting for us when you ended our relationship. For leaving you to Groningen, just like that.”
Dylan’s last words hung in the air, filling the empty space of past memories that actually never even once left their heart, but had been buried deep inside their mind, waiting for a chance like now to be awaken again.
Carefully, Dylan slightly shook Ann’s left hand on the table, asking for a reaction.
“Why did you leave?”
Dylan was taken aback. He never expected Ann to bring up the question.
“Because I thought drifting apart was the best way for us,” Dylan answered, straightly, “but I realized it was my pride who forced me to go. I honestly just did not have the guts to face you like a man. I’d rather run away than having to see you with some other guy.”
“But why did not you tell me?”
Dylan bit his lower lip and sighed. “Because I know that once I talked to you again, I could never give up on you. Half of me told myself to run after you, but unfortunately, my ego won the battle.”
It reminded Ann of a day in April, a month after their break up, when Dylan suddenly left Amsterdam for good without telling her directly. He instead sent a message to Ann through his best friend, Marc, telling her to take care and be happy.
Happy my ass, Ann remembered her own response, yelling at Marc while breaking into tears at the dance floor of a club in Wibautstraat around dawn.
“I am sorry,” Dylan repeated, as if his apology would never be enough.
“Stop saying sorry. It’s okay,” Ann pursed her lips into a thin smile, “we were just teenagers trying for our luck in love, anyway.”
Dylan looked down at the table, staring at Ann’s right hand that wrapped her tall glass. He wondered why he just noticed that one gleam among other metals that reflected the room’s neon lights on her finger.
“Have you ever regretted it? Regretted us?” asked Dylan before he finished his drink in a gulp.
Ann shook her head.
“No, I never regret it. Not even once,” Ann leaned towards the table, “I am instead thankful for what we’ve had.”
“You taught me how to love someone so deeply, like jumping off a cliff without knowing when I will land. It was so crazy and emotional. I loved you like there was no tomorrow, as if I was the moon and you were the earth, my life revolved around you.
"I know that kind of love will not happen anymore, Dylan. It’s only once in a lifetime. So, instead of punching you in the face for hurting me, I want to thank you. Because that’s what first love did, that’s exactly what first love should have done. And you gave me that.
"So, thank you. Really," Ann said.
Dylan chuckled, softly, holding back his voice. “You overrated me.”
Ann shrugged as she vaguely stirred her drink with the straw before she sipped it until it ran out.
“You know, it once crossed my mind that,” Dylan leaned his chin on his palm, “if only I was a bit mature and not that ill-tempered or possessive towards you back then, maybe we are still together until now.”
Blinking her eyes as she slowly looked into Dylan’s eyes, Ann smiled knowingly.
“I believe so, too,” Ann said, “and if an alternate universe is really out there somewhere, maybe we have already got married, living in Iceland as what we dreamed of."
Dylan laughed, but his eyes wandered somewhere beyond Ann’s whereabouts. He stared at the emptiness behind her shoulder, trying to gather the scattered words that he had been thinking over years.
Words that Dylan knew would haunt him for the rest of his life, if he did not spill them now.
“Ann, it might be easy for me to ask you for a second chance and get you back together with me right here. But I know that it’s out of the question now,” Dylan said, “I realized that you have put a ring on it.”
Looking at Dylan directing his eyes to her entwined hands on the table, Ann immediately looked down. She spotted a small stone diamond ring wrapping her finger, hiding in line with her other rings that she liked to put on.
“I guess I am too late, then?” Dylan smiled bitterly.
“If only you asked me a week earlier before I said ‘yes’ to my boyfriend, I know that I would have given you the chance,” Ann muttered as she fingered her engagement ring.
“But no, you’re not late. You’re perfectly in time. Because you know what, Dylan? I finally find the answer to my question that I’ve been asking myself for years.
"That maybe what I need—what we need—is not to try to fix our past,” Ann pursed her lips, hiding her shaking voice, “but instead a proper way to say goodbye.”
The words slapped Dylan on his face, waking him up to realize that what Ann had said was the right answer to the unfinished feeling that still lingered on his mind ever since he left.
Maybe the reason why her name still nagged him at the back of his mind was not because he wanted another shot to make their relationship right, but simply because he had never taken a chance to make farewell.
Meeting Ann’s somehow blurry eyes, Dylan smiled softly. She returned the smile too as she dabbed the corner of her right eye. They seemed to have understood the unspoken words between their stares to each other.
We have long gone and we have moved on.
“I still use the wallet you gave me on my seventeenth birthday,” Dylan said as he opened his black-leather wallet, taking out the money for their drinks that he insisted on paying.
“God, it’s really worn-out. You should change that,” Ann frowned.
“No, I like this one. I plan to keep using it,” Dylan shrugged, “do you mind?”
“Of course not,” Ann stood up from her seat first and put on her coat. “Sometimes I still use the biker jacket you gave me too, you know.”
They headed out of the bar and stood still for a while in front of the door, looking around the street as they waited for one of them to speak a few words of farewell to end the night. To end the long-missed encounter before they go back to their separate ways.
This time, a real farewell between two past lovers.
“I should get going and catch the bus. I hope there are still some,” Dylan said, facing Ann.
“Do you want a ride?” Ann offered, half hoping that time would stop for them to talk. Just to talk.
“No, it’s fine. I want to take a walk too, I miss this neighborhood so much,” Dylan said, “say, you will invite me, will you?”
Ann frowned. “To what?”
“Your wedding, of course.” Dylan averted his eyes to Ann’s fingers.
“Will you come?”
“I won’t miss the day you wear your wedding dress, for anything,” Dylan smiled, yet it reflected an eerie feeling.
“Sure, then,” Ann bit her lower lip as she stared at Dylan’s feet. “So… I’ll see you when I see you?”
“See you when I see you,” Dylan resisted the urge to hug her. He shoved his hands into his coat’s pockets and kept them tight. “Be happy, okay? Good luck with everything.”
“You too.”
Just when Dylan began to walk to Ann’s opposite direction, she called his name again. Dylan turned around, but he did not come closer.
“Just so you know, Dylan, you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” Ann said loudly, fighting her racing heartbeat and the tears that were ready to break.
Dylan smiled; the exact crooked yet warm smile that once had made Ann believe that love only came once in a lifetime and it was indeed something to fight for.
“But you don’t need me back,” Dylan said.
“I don’t need you back,” Ann smiled, small tears running through her cheek.
“I want one decaf caramel macchiato with soy milk, no added sugar, less vanilla syrup and caramel drizzle. Make it in grande. And two tall Iced Vanilla Latte, both less sugar and ice, and,” the man in browline glasses nudged his friend at her arm, “Ann?”
The woman in chestnut hair averted her eyes from the menu boards to the cashier. “Oh—I’ll have one hot long black, triple espresso in grande. Thank you.”
“So polar opposites we are; I can’t handle caffeine and you drink coffee more than water each day,” Chris scoffed as he handed his credit card to pay their morning coffee routine.
“But that’s why we’re friends. I can’t stand people who drink my coffee, but with you, everything is safe,” Ann replied.
“Yeah, right,” Chris shrugged it off while his work colleague just chuckled.
As they waited for their orders at the pick-up corner, Chris caught a glimpse of someone familiar beside him: a man in black sweater and faded jeans who was busy with his phone.
He reminded Chris of someone, but years of not seeing this particular guy made Chris doubted his memory. Only when the barista called someone named Dylan and the man beside him answered to that, Chris realized he was right.
“Bloody hell, Dylan? Dylan Ash?” Chris called the name as he tilted his head.
The man instinctively turned to look at Chris and widened his eyes. He grinned in surprise. “Gosh, Chris!”
“God damn it! Dylan! Where have you been?” Chris half-screamed, pulling Dylan into a brotherly hug.
Dylan patted Chris’s back in return, “Here, there, and everywhere, man.”
“How are you?” Chris asked as he pulled back, “and what are you doing here? I thought you’re in London now.”
“I am here for a business trip, just some stuff for the Architectural Conference,” Dylan sipped his coffee, “still live in London, though, just graduated from The Bartlett.”
“Like, are you serious? Wow, I never thought you’re a master degree-material,” Chris hit Dylan’s shoulder playfully. “I wonder why you always surprise me.”
“Said someone who took his master earlier than me,” Dylan smiled knowingly, “I assume all is well with you? How’s the ads agency doing?”
“The competition is tight, but we’re fine. Still got Adidas in our hands, though. Gotta keep it as ours,” Chris replied, proudly, “how long are you going to stay? We really need to hang out, man, Groningen guys miss you. ”
“Believe me, I want to. But I’ll fly back to London tomorrow morning, so…” Dylan said with an apologetic smile.
Chris frowned. “Too bad. We should’ve gone for a drink or something.”
“I’ll tell you when I visit later. Here,” Dylan handed his phone, “I lost your contact. Just save your number or whatever.”
The barista called Chris and Ann’s name respectively, saying their orders were ready. Still busy with Dylan’s phone, Chris asked Ann to pick up their drinks. Ann pulled the cups to her direction and asked the barista for a coffee tray to go.
Dylan frowned at the scene, wondering why the woman who’d been standing behind Chris with her back facing him was familiar from her side.
And her name was Ann.
Wait, wait—
“Annalise?” Dylan called the name carefully as he stepped closer to where she was standing.
Take a deep breath and exhale slowly, Ann told herself. She turned her head to face her caller, the one she avoided since the first time Chris called his name. “Dylan.”
“You both know each other?” Chris widened his eyes at Ann in inquiry, “why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not a big deal. We’re just old friends,” Ann said in one breath.
Dylan just stood in silence, but Ann could notice thin wrinkles on his forehead. He narrowed his eyes at her, his eyebrows creased. Ann once again avoided his questioning stare.
“Really? Wow, coincidence,” Chris muttered to himself and turned to Dylan, “here. Keep in mind to give me heads up the next time you’re here.”
“I will,” Dylan nodded and put his phone inside his pocket.
Chris looked back and forth to them both. “So, old friends, huh? Since when? Junior high school?”
“No, actually—”
“Hold on,” Chris’ phone was ringing from his pocket. He took it and groaned upon seeing the caller ID. “Shit, I need to take this call. It’s our Asus client, again.”
Chris rolled his eyes at Ann as he answered the call and walked away. Ann nodded knowingly in return. Her eyes stuck to Chris’s back until he was no longer at her sight.
Ann sighed as she turned her head, facing the guy who unexpectedly showed up after years of missing.
“Old friends? Really?” was the first thing Dylan said when their eyes met, this time properly.
“What do you want me to say?” Ann snorted as she took the coffee tray from the counter, ready to go. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have works waiting for me at the office.”
Quick-wittedly, Dylan took over the coffee tray from her hand and put it back to the counter. “Is this really the way you talk to your old friend after eight years?”
Ann crossed her arms. “What? Do you expect a hug?”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “You and your sarcasm, of course.”
“Oh, so you still remember me after all,” Ann smiled in provocation.
“Okay, let’s stop here,” Dylan cleared his throat, “how are you, Ann?”
Ann narrowed her eyes. “Don’t try to be conventional, Dylan. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Don’t worry, I am still a die-hard idealist as you know me, but hey—that’s a different thing,” Dylan smiled, rather flat, “you haven’t answered my question.”
“As you see, I am doing fine,” Ann paused to search for the right words. But instead of asking him back, she grabbed the coffee tray and held it with both hands in front of her. “And I assume you are doing fine too. So…”
Ann couldn’t finish her sentence. She let it hang as an unfathomable silence slowly engulfed them for a moment that felt too long. Dylan stared at her like she was an abstract painting that he couldn’t make sense at all.
“You won’t let your guard down around me, do you?” Dylan half-whispered.
There was a hint of sadness in his words and Ann didn’t fail to notice it.
Because losing myself near you will not be pretty at all. “It’s just…”
“What?”
“Okay, Ann. Ready to go?” Chris interrupted Ann thought, stepping on the empty space between Dylan and Ann. “I have a meeting at 10, so we better go now.”
Ann nodded absent-mindedly. She glanced at Dylan who then averted his eyes to his running shoes.
“I am sorry, Dylan. These computer-freak people are such a pain in the ass,” Chris opened his arm for a farewell hug, “so, I’ll see you soon, I hope?”
“Same old, same old,” Dylan hugged Chris in return, “yeah, hope to see you soon.”
Ann didn’t know what to do, so she just smiled before she followed Chris to the door. Dylan didn’t even budge. He stared at her intensely; his eyes followed her until she disappeared among the crowds.
When Ann opened the coffee shop door, she looked back at him once. Dylan was still staring at her.
As they waited for the traffic light to cross the street, a familiar voice called Chris from behind. Ann didn’t have to look to know who it was.
“Chris, do you mind if I talk to Annalise for a second?”
Chris blinked in confusion at first. He glanced at Ann who also seemed petrified by the situation.
“Sure, sure. Take your time,” Chris immediately agreed. He turned to Ann and took the coffee tray from her hands. “Here, let me take it. Liz and Rosie will be furious if I don’t bring this right away.”
“Thanks,” Dylan smiled. He waved as Chris turned his back and crossed the street.
Ann drank half of her coffee in just a gulp. Somehow she felt she needed more caffeine rushing through her vein to prepare her for everything that might come next.
“Are you busy this afternoon?” Dylan asked her, rather straightforwardly. Seeing Ann shook her head, he continued, “Will you go out with me? For a drink?”
“Drink?” Ann frowned, “why?”
“Why?” Dylan repeated.
“Yeah, why,” Ann said it again, “I mean… why you suddenly invite me for a drink?”
Dylan scratched the back of his head, contemplating with himself. He couldn’t help being intimidated by the curiosity reflected in Ann’s eyes.
“It’s just… we haven’t seen each other in such a long time and I want to talk to you while I can,” Dylan said.
Ann held her breath. “So, it needs to be tonight.”
“Well, as you heard, I’ll be leaving for London tomorrow morning, so…”
Their surrounding was far from quiet—the sound of vehicles, chattering passersby, traffic jam—but it seemed like silence became their best friend at the time.
Ann just stared at the road; her half was hoping for Dylan to break the ice while her other half was trying to make up some words. Dylan, in front of her, preferred to sip his Iced long black until it ran out.
“So—”
“Listen, Annalise,” Dylan interrupted her, abruptly, “this morning, I planned to have coffee at my hotel. Instead, I decided to walk around the block and I found this coffee shop. I texted my friend, saying that I was going to visit him right after my order came when suddenly Chris saw me. And there was you.
“Now, what if I’d decided to stay at the hotel? Or if I’d missed this coffee shop? Or if my order had come before Chris saw me and I’d already left? Have that possibility ever crossed your mind?
“Then this meeting would have never happened. I wouldn’t have met you, I wouldn’t have had the chance to talk to you like this,” Dylan softened his voice, “and after all this time, after these fucking eight years… I refuse to think that our meeting is just a mere coincidence.
Call it fate, call it tragedy, but there is sure something more than that.”
Ann was stunned. Like a thunderbolt, her mind suddenly recalled all memories of someone named Dylan Ash. The pictures of the past ran like a slideshow inside her head; collection of every moment that they shared during teenager years.
Of Ann’s first love in her life.
“So, yes. I am afraid that it has to be tonight… or never,” Dylan continued, “still, it’s up to you.”
I’m not going to talk about your story or whatever. But your “Mini Novel” just gave me that sensation “is this shit happening around my ‘real live’?”. So, Me and my other many part of me just kept talking about that question over and over again (from page 10 to finish). This work is amazing. (for me, at least).
Hello! So sorry for replying ur kind words so late. Thank you for reading! That shit happens around your real life, for sure. Imagination is real sometimes tho xx thanks again!
Constellation of Stardust @margueriteafra - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
