Shyt! Shyt! Shyt!
I tapped the end button on my phone several times trying to disconnect the call I was making. Unfortunately the call had been received for one second before I ended it.
I was angry on myself for calling this number. I went through my contacts to delete that number itself.
But before that I realized I remember this number by heart and brain. There was no point in deleting.
I had thought about calling this number more or less everyday in the past five months. I had gone to this number on my phone at least 50 times, I had called but cut the call before it connected, may be 10 times. I had actually called this number twice, got connected but did not talk. And this was the third time!
Of course I did not want to talk. I had determined to not do that. That's why I cut the call.
But my determination was not just to stop calling, it was about never thinking about the person to whom the number belonged.
The number did not belong to an enemy but the best friend I could have ever had.
I wish he had remained the best friend, JUST that. Unfortunately I had dated him on and off for the last five years. Before that he was JUST my best friend from school. May be it's accurate to say I dated him for two years out of five. And the rest of the time, that is three years, would have been the times we had broken up in between.
PHEW.
It made sense to me why I should not call him.
I switched off the phone and called it a night.
A month later, I got a text from that number!!
'Hey, wanna meet up? I am in your town'.
I was a bit surprised he knew I was in this town. I had left India 6 months ago, taking up a job in the British Red Cross. I hadn't necessarily told him I was going to leave India but he knew about my job application to the Red Cross and we do have lots of common friends. So yeah, it's not hard for him to know I was in this town.
Did he figure out it was me calling him from the few times I gave him sort of missed calls or cut calls before we spoke? Obviously he would have. Or he would have taken my number from our common friends.
But I didn't want to meet him, did I? I wanted to permanently break up with him. So obviously it was a bad idea to meet up. I did not reply to him for two hours after his text. Of course I was thinking about whether to text him back or not in each of those 120 minutes.
But hey, he was my bestest friend. How could I not see him? We had written each other's notes in school and college. We had shared lunch plates. We had stolen apples from orchards together. We had fought with our art teacher together... and we had done a 100 different things together...
For the sake of all that, I had to meet him when he was in my town.
'Where are you?' I texted him back.
'So you do wanna meet. Give me your address', he texted back immediately.
'You don't have to come here. Let's meet somewhere else', I told him. I didn't want him in my apartment.
'Radisson Blu Edwardian. Meet me at 7 pm. Have a meeting at 6, should be done by 7', he texted back immediately.
I was at the extravagant Radisson hotel by 6.45 pm. I had never noticed this expensive hotel even though I drove through the road at times. I sat in the lobby and called him. He didn't pick up his phone. I thought he might not have finished with his meeting.
Seated in the hotel lobby, I felt underdressed. I had come in jeans and tee, no make up and was on a bad hair day, where as the people around were dressed for a party. This must have been the most posh hotel in town and the people had dressed accordingly.
Still, I felt it was a better idea to not call him to my apartment.
The reason was as simple as myself not wanting to sleep with him, yet again.
And this was THE problem.
So in the five years of dating, we had fought innumerable number of times. Every single time, we called it quits and stopped talking to each other. And within hours or days, we would end up meeting up and then, rather than sorting out why we fought, we would be in each other's arms shamelessly kissing and touching each other.
That never solved any problem. Our issues remained. But the warmth of arms would have us forget the real issues. We never sorted out anything.
Like one time, his Daadi had come to visit him. She said she is looking for a girl for him. He told her in FRONT of me that he trusts her to find the right girl for him. I had shouted on him later that day. He had told me he did that to keep his Daadi at peace, he of course was not going to marry anyone like that. But of course, I wasn't happy about it. I brought this issue up every time we fought after that.
I also brought up that other issue every time. The issue of him giving that only bubble gum he had to that pretty girl and not me. He had told me I was his girlfriend and I should understand. I never ever understood.
And I was not the only one with issues. He had many many and one big issue was me not wearing bangles. He had told me several times that he liked me to wear bangles. Not that I hated bangles but I found them a nuisance in a day to day life. But he expected me to wear them for him. I wore sometimes, but didn't, most other times and he always made an issue out of it, taking it to the level where he would say I do not care about him. HOW DARE HE?
I just didn't wear bangles. But he left me behind in our town in Punjab, while he moved to Mumbai to make it big. Did he really care about me? Oh yeah, he says I didn't move along. Whatever..
I was rubbing my wrist as my eyes filled suddenly. I realized I was not wearing bangles. I somehow wished I were wearing them. But I hated myself for wishing so.
And then came his text asking me where I was.
I texted back, asking him to come to the lobby and my phone rang immediately.
'I can't come there like that. I am a rockstar for your information', he said on the phone.
His voice had me shiver.
'This is not India. And you are not Michael Jackson', I said.
'Baby, it's Manchester. Just throw a stone and it will fall on a desi. I don't want crowd. I don't want people to photograph me with you and then see it on Times of India tomorrow', he almost laughed.
I didn't want to be photographed with him either. But more importantly I wanted to see him the very moment.
'Which room?', I asked.
'302', he replied.
'ONLY talk. You are not coming near me', I made the rule.
'I am not waiting to...you know what...I am waiting. Just show up here. I don't have a lot of time. I have a show to perform tomorrow', he cut the call.
A minute or so later, I knocked the door of 302. He opened it and I felt as if I was trembling. I composed myself and sat on the sofa.
He walked around looking at me while I avoided his eyes. He sat on a chair opposite to me. I sighed trying to calm myself down.
'Talk, whatever you want to talk', he said.
I looked up at him and looked away. I did not figure out what to talk.
We did not talk for the next so many minutes. We looked at each other, avoided each other's eyes and looked at random things.
'What's wrong with you...', he banged the arm of his chair with his fist.
That was it. I started crying hiding my face in my palms.
'Come here', he stretched his arms out inviting me.
And I RAN into his arms.
He had me sit on his lap and hugged me tight. I hugged him tighter. I squeezed him may be, with all my strength.
He held my face and kissed my lips. I kissed him back. His hands were on my breasts and I had arched my neck letting myself free for his hungry lips.
And it was all back to square one. And a bit later, we were under the sheets, sighing in the glow of the high, which only the two of us belonged to.
'I missed you so much. Why would you disappear like that?', he complained nuzzling to the side of my neck as I turned my back to him and spooned myself to his body.
'I didn't disappear, you are the one who pushed me away', I complained as I circled his hand around my waist.
'Me? Remember..I called you!', he held me tighter.
'That's because I gave you missed calls and you figured out my number', I tried to weaken his argument.
'But you had my number, still wouldn't talk to me, hmm', he turned me to face him.
'This is exactly why I didn't want to come here to your room. You didn't even let me talk to you about the problem', I brushed his stubble with my fingers.
'Talk now, about whatever problem you want to talk about', he held my face lovingly, looking into my eyes.
All I could say was, 'I love you'.
'I don't love you at all', he kissed me all over my face and pressed his lips to mine.
May be the problem could wait.
May be I should wait until the next problem.
May be there was no problem.
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