the story of an everyday person.(fiction)

Tonight, there was that ache, the ache where you doubt yourself and you’re trying to justify what you’re feeling.
Sitting in my veranda, looking down at the city: lights, people walking around, horns blaring and smoke everywhere, I couldn’t shake off this feeling. Why?
Shall I explain what I’m talking about or is it obvious?
Yes it has to do with a person, someone who means a lot to me. This someone came into my life not so long ago but a lot has happened since so it seems like a lot longer…
We met at a party and it wasn’t an earth shattering event. I think I barely noticed him and vice versa. The whole party I spent time with my friends and enjoyed myself thoroughly, getting ever so slightly drunk and going home with my roommate singing “Saturday night fever”, not because we were buzzing but because it was Saturday and we always got juvenile after parties.

I didn’t see him until the next Saturday where the same friend was throwing another party, this time it was a birthday bash. That night I did notice him. We said our cordial hellos at the beginning of the party and went back to not noticing (OK, I noticed a little) each other. Soon, we had no choice but to notice each other since all the couples decided to monopolise the dance floor and there were a lot of couples. Surprisingly he wasn’t one.
We sat at the mini bar and there was the usual awkward silence, where two people are more or less forced to be in each others faces. Then he looked across at the couples and said, “Ya know, it’s strange but if they were still single they would be bitching about the sappy song playing right now with us” he smiled and I cracked up. See that’s the thing about me I have this Santa Claus laugh no matter how lame or good a joke is and sometimes it’s very embarrassing because the other person stops laughing and I continue, making it hard for the other person to make more of a conversation. But he continued smiling, not a stiff smile but a genuine one. That broke the ice, after that we talked and laughed (me loud and him soft) and insulted the next couple of sappy songs. We talked through the whole party and then we exchanged numbers.

I didn’t expect him to call (I mean it was great at the party and we really hit it off but I figured that the only reason we had a great time was because we had no other choice, beggars can’t be choosers was how I justified it. I was being pessimistic and I knew it, too many things had happened to me and I hate getting my hopes up. Some people think I’m being ridiculous and over analytical, which maybe I am but that never hurt anyone.) And I was right, he didn’t call. My week was so full that I didn’t really have time to feel bad about it and all I wanted was for the weekend to appear like the first rays of the sun and bring some peace into my otherwise hectic life. This weekend I decided I would stay in have some quiet time with myself, I hated missing a good time (yet another party) but I needed to relax and there was a book I was looking forward to getting lost in.
At the end of the night I was half way through my book and my cell phone rang, scaring me and removing me from the story I was living, “hello?” it was him, he called to find out why I wasn’t at the party. I told him I wanted to have a quiet weekend on my own; I asked him whether he enjoyed himself at the party. He said it wasn’t the same without me because the only other single person at the party was a guy, who seemed completely indifferent about the music and the crowd. I laughed at that and yet again we couldn’t stop talking (point to remember here, we were not forced to talk to each other but wanted to). My book lay forgotten as I spent most of my night on the phone. We finally said our good nights at the wee hours of the mornings and decided to meet for dinner at a small cosy restaurant near my place.
Well, after that things just got better, we went out almost every other day and on weekends we spent whole days together having long conversations and going to plays and just sitting around and reading. He hadn’t made anything official yet but I liked the way things were going, I was in no hurry. After four months he asked me whether we could “go steady”. I laughed at him and said yes.

It’s been 6 months since that day. A year (or a little more than that) has passed since we met and I don’t regret a single thing about it. But there is always this ache. There are days where we can’t talk to each other, where looking at each other has been a task, not something we took pleasure in. I get scared when this happens, like I said, I analyse everything and hate it when things don’t add up, I try to justify it but I can’t. I don’t regret when this happens, things cannot be honky dory everyday. Then there are days where we can’t get enough of each other, like in the beginning: holding hands and talking about our day, laughing at each other and just not being able to stop being happy. I love these days and keep them fresh in my memory, each smile of his, the way he took hold of my hand and the warmth that spreads through me, his laugh (which is actually loud) and the way we end up not sleeping but not really caring because we’re encased in this warm glow of ours and don’t feel like leaving until the morning comes and breaks the spell.

I'm scared I'll let the ache consume me and make me cold. it's a habit that's persisted over time, whenever i felt trapped by anything or anyone i go cold, ignore the situation till it has no choice but to let go off me. I've never had a problem when this has happened because usually my instincts are right and i had to let go,but this-this is so much more.

I've stayed away from him, for a while now. i can't control what i feel and at times all i want is to tell him how he hurts me but i know it's not deliberate so i have no right to. i want to tell him how insecure i am with him because he means so much, but pride holds me back. not too many people have that effect on me: i have my closest friends and that's it, i can trust friends, i know they will always be there and that nothing can change that.

he's had someone extremely special before, before me(not that i consider myself special but i consider myself important in his life). i know of her and know her in many ways as most humans know each other, certain characteristics that we all share. I'm not bothered by her but the insecurity it stirs in me.

i sometimes wonder whether i'll ever be his delilah.

many people associate the story of samson and delilah to betrayal, but for me it was a story of complete surrender of the heart: even at the very end samson still loved delilah, he surrendered himself completely to her and his death only made it more pronounced.

sitting on my balcony, pondering over this, i watch the city.