Letter no. 42: Spaces in Between
I sticked a note on his bed while he was sound asleep. I couldn’t say personally how sorry I was about our argument last night. My lower body wanted to stay and please him all day, but my upper ones were so much decided to grasp some air. The sun was up giving our naked body a sweet gleam through small spaces of the dark drapes. I knew it was time. As the clock ticked to seven o’clock, the gravity pulled down the tears I couldn’t contain. It dropped down to my red cheeks to my crumpled fist while I looked at his innocence. There were no words, and for a few minute of analyzing his face, my feet walked away of solitude then I shut the door without hesitation.
I stood with the throng waiting for the lights to turn green. It was a bit crowded. I hummed through Sam Smith’s “Stay with me” and felt the mixed emotions deep within. I isolated my mind despite the street noise. It had never been such a lonely morning.
I counted down with the red lights. 35 seconds to go before I could cross.
Everyday of my life, I would cross the same street with him. I would never get afraid of the world’s judgement as I hold his hand on the same pedestrian. We would laugh at random thoughts and sightseeings. We would step and count the lines as we cross on the pedestrian lane. There were 62 white lines to be exact, 62 steps to reach the other side.
Memories flashed back. It was a sweet affair. But like all relationships. There were misunderstandings. There were pesonality tests, and like academic tests, there were cheating and sneeking. There were honesties, forgiveness and forgetting. It was a rollercoaster ride. It wasn’t easy but wasn’t difficult too when you understand and learn each other’s heart.
Like all the types of rides, we sometimes need space… like boundaries, and limits and walls and isolation and getting lost. It wouldn’t mean bad. Space defines existence. It is the same space that gleamed our naked body on the realm of dark curtains, the same space that measures the distance of everyone on the throng waiting for the lights to turn green… the same space that makes pedestrian stripes countable… that for every 62 white lines, there were 61 blank spaces in between.
I hugged my sling bag and waited for the lane to be vacated so could reach the other side. Cars went on chasing each other side by side, swiftly passing by against our still being.
“I just need space. We both need space”, the note I left on his bed read.
I knew for sure we needed space, like every car needs so they wouldn’t bump against each other, like for every red lights there’s green so every wheels could give way to a lost feet. And that’s one thing I learned from traffic lights. You need to learn how to give way, how to wait for your time or risk crossing to find out you’d be hit and stumble broken.
I finally stepped on the flat pavement and crossed the pedestrian lane…It was time to cross. My heart beat fast as the distance from the shut door to where I was grew longer. It was different. I wasn’t holding someone. I wasn’t laughing at random thoughts. And unlike the old ways, I didn’t count the white lines, instead I counted the blank spaces in between, and there were 61 of them as I reached the other side.