He is tall and she is not. The top of her head barely reaches his shoulder when they walk together. She often takes a foot away from his side when she’s with him, and whenever she does, he pulls her closer and without so much care will put her hand to his arm. The proximity of their body had always made her so self-conscious that her hands involuntarily goes to her hair, her face, into her pockets and tugs at her dress. She hated this certain feeling of excitement that causes her to feel awkward and nervous. Often she struggles to free herself from his grip, anything just to be a foot away from his side. But he was strong and won’t let her go.
He was a friend of a friend. She met him only a few months ago and since then they had unconsciously built their own little space in the lives of each other. Suddenly, it was impossible for her not to think of him and it was impossible for him not to make his presence known to her in every single day. Everyday there was new message in her mail, a new song or article waiting to be reviewed. Occasionally, there would be an invitation asking her aid in search for a new book. He gave her a detective book and wrote down a dedication on the first page. She carried the book inside her bag for a month. And every so often she’d take it out and examine the way he wrote her name, to see if it meant something. To see if there were clues about them.
One day, they were sitting on the hood of an old automobile at the front of his house. The raindrops were beating the ground and the old roof heavily. There was a smell of rustiness in the air but with him strumming at his guitar, the occasional cars and neighbours with their raincoats and umbrellas passing by, she felt complacent. They talked about the bands they like, their favorite superheroes and about everything they thought were important to know but wouldn’t really make an ounce of sense to other people. She felt as if they had built a world that only them were the inhabitants. She felt a sense of certainty with the rain, the automobile, the guitar, he and she. She almost believed in her feelings, in her intuitions.
Suddenly he stopped strumming and talking all at once. An excruciating silence overtook them and she felt off-guard. Finally he spoke and what he said was a question. It was a question that seemed not asked directly to her, it was something from his head and it just slipped out of his mouth. He said:”I wonder. Next year, same day, same hour, minutes and seconds. Where will you be? Where will I be?”.
A pang of loneliness hit her hard. It felt like the walls of the world she imagined had all crumbled down to her. The rain, the automobile, the guitar, he and she, there was nothing really there. Certainty was lost. All of a sudden she felt so cold and she didn’t realized that it was not only the rain that was falling. Tears were pouring from her eyes making its way down to her chest. He was surprised and asked her what the matter was. She wanted to tell him that she wish they could be together and outsmart forever. She wanted to tell him that she thought she loved him. She wanted to tell him that she thought he loved her too but now all were uncertain. She wanted to tell him that she thought what she felt was something of importance and that now she couldn’t trust her feelings at all.
She leaned her head to his shoulder and he put his arms around her. Despite her heavy sobs, it was a wonder how she even managed to tell him: “I’m sorry, I’m just so sorry.”
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