The Birthday II

Her birthday was the best day in his life. Will his birthday be the best in her life or will it be the most painful, unforgettable night?

"Hello” I said. Hopeful, excited and scared at the same time.

“Hello?” he answered, in an inquisitive sort of a way.

“Hey! Is that you? Woah, How are you?” he continued, without even letting me speak.

“How are you? Are you okay?” he asked again. For a moment, it felt like old time, for a moment, I just wanted to lay down on bed, close my eyes and just hear him speak. Hear him for hours and hours together. Just hearing his voice made me feel so calm.

“Yes. Yes. I am good. Relax.” I said, after a few seconds, returning from my short lived fantasy.

“Hmm...”

“Happy Birthday Ahmed.” I said before he could speak.

“Still one day to go, you know?” he retorted back with a smile.

“Ok. Advance Happy Birthday.” I said again replying with a smile too.

Every time we spoke, we just smiled. It was so natural and spontaneous. Sometimes even in a serious argument, out of nowhere, he’d make me smile. It would be so annoying and I would so hate him for that, but then thinking about it now, makes me realise what he meant and why he made me smile.

“So, Mr. Birthday boy. What plans?” I asked him, sensing he was lost for words and he didn’t quite know what to speak, like he always did.

“Uh, well, for starters, I am a man now. And I have no plans as such. May be something with my office mates.” He said, not quite sure.

“You know, I’m not a fan of birthdays.” He added quickly, trying to play it down.

“Neither am I, but then you made it special.” I said, suddenly, thinking about that day, 30th August. Something I won’t forget.

“You deserved that. You deserve to feel special every day of your life.” He said, in a way only he could say. The way, I fell in love with and the way, even now, even though I know I’m not supposed to, but still am falling in love with.

“Stop that now. Don’t start flirting. We’ve broke up, remember” I said, reminding him, although I wished he continued and never stopped. I wished we never broke up and I wished I never had to call him up.

“I’m not flirting. I never did. I wouldn’t flirt with you.” He said, in a kind of serious note.

“Why wouldn’t you?” I asked, curious to know.

“You’re not to be flirted with. You are to be taken seriously. You are to be respected and you are to be loved.” He said.

“Ok cool. You’re making me laugh.” I said, trying to divert attention. He was getting serious and I was falling in love with his voice, his words and him all over again.

“I’m not, you know that.” He replied.

“Ok, ok. Chill. By the way, I have something for you.” I said.

“What?” he replied, quickly.

“Go, check your door.” I said.

“Haha, are you kidding me?” he replied and rightly so. It was 12:16 am, 1st October. What would you normally expect at the door?

“Oh, come on. Go no?” I said, almost trying to pull him up from his bed through the phone.

“Ok. Ok. Wait.” He said and I heard him get up.

“I’m walking now” he said.

“Opening the door.”

“Haha, please do.” I said.

“Woah, wait. Where are you?” he asked.

“Are you here?” he asked again. I could hear him getting down the stairs in a hurry. May be he was trying to find me.

“Relax, I’m not where you are looking.” I said, cheekily.

“Where are you then? Please tell me.” He said, excited, hopeful and everything at once.

“I’m right where you are, like I’ve always been. With you. Always.” I said, trying to sound rational and funny.

“Not funny, you know? Tell me where you are?” he asked again.

“Relax, I’m not there. Now, tell me what did you find? What’s in your hand?” I asked

“Uh, wait, haven’t seen it yet. Was so excited that you were here.” He said, trying to calm down and relax himself.

“It’s an Allen Solly bag and inside it is a…shirt!” he said, almost narrating what he was seeing.

“Looks good?” I asked.

“Looks fabulous!” he said.

“Always wanted you to see in a white shirt.” I said. I really did and I hope I do.

“You didn’t have to…I mean, why all this?” he said, his voice slow and soft and awkward in a good way.

“Go back. Close the door. Your parents might wake up otherwise.” I said first.

“Ok.” He said and closed the door slowly, without making any sound.

“Remember, you just told me, I deserve to feel special every day of my life?” I said.

“Yeah, you do. Every second and every minute of your life.” He replied.

“Well, I am special. And the reason I am special is because you are special. You made me feel wanted and you made me feel special.” I said, trying to sound logical and true. Trying to find right words to say, like he always did.

“So this shirt is to remind you how special I feel because of you. And every time you wear this shirt, I’ll feel even more special and even more blessed.

“Hmm…But…”he wanted to say something but his voice trailed off.

“What are you doing?” I asked trying to start afresh.

“Lying down on bed, staring at the shirt.” He answered.

“Ok, get up now. Again. Come open the door.” I said again mischievously

“Are you seriously here?” he asked, more serious than the last time. More hopeful and even more convinced.

“Come and open the door.” I repeated.

“Ok. Wait. I’m coming.”

I could almost feel him make his way to the door. All sorts of chemical reactions were going wild inside my body. I wanted to do to so much but then that wasn’t part of the plan.

“Hey! There’s another parcel here.” He said probably after opening the door.

“Open it” I said or rather commanded.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He obliged.

“Oh my God! It’s Nike OG” he screamed.

“Relax.” I tried to calm him down even though I knew he wouldn’t.

“Oh dear!” he said.

“What do I say?” he said again and tried to say a million things but couldn’t. Those few seconds summed up our lives together. So many things to say, so many things to do, so many things to be, we never did, we couldn’t…

Just then I slowly heard him whisper my name and I swear, I felt like melting in his arms. That was my weakness. No one had ever made my name sound more meaningful and real. His voice sent me chills right down to my spine. And this was no different.

“Yes…” I whispered.

“I wish you were here” He whispered back, his voice like just like the night, dark, soft and hollow, full of guilt and silence.

“I miss you…” I uttered back. Damn I shouldn’t have. I held it back for so long but couldn’t anymore.

He stayed silent. I was quiet too, almost drowning in my own hollowness, trying to bury myself in my phone, hoping to find him through it.

“F**k this life. F**k this world.” He groaned suddenly.

“Sorry!” he uttered back soon. He had never cussed in my presence, never.

“It’s okay. It was for good.” I replied, deeply hoping that it was.

“Yes…” he said quietly, almost lost for words.

“Where are you now?” I asked him trying to cheer him up.

“Back on my bed, lying down again.” He replied.

“Baby?” I said, trying to be as sweet as possible.

“Yes, love.” He replied, breathing a sigh and stealing mine too.

“Get up one last time. Open the door again.” I said.

“Yes, for you a thousand times over.” He replied.

“Haha, The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini” I laughed

“The first book you presented me.” I reminded.

“Yes! I remember.” He smiled.

“So did you find anything?” I asked, curious.

“Yes, opening the gift.” He said.

“I think it’s a book.” He guessed.

“Yes, Sir, you’re right. Go on.” I answered.

“Ahh, The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah. Lovely” he exclaimed. His smile clearly visible.

“You like it?” I asked.

“Yes, everything. Especially talking to you” He said, like he’d always say. He always said that, that I gave him peace and that I made him genuinely happy.

“A lot of people who know me, don’t know me at all.”

He told me long back. The reason was, a lot of time when he laughed, he wouldn’t laugh because he was happy. He’d laugh because of everything but happiness. To him, happiness was silence and rarely when he was genuinely happy, he’d be silent. And although I was a bag of chaos and mess, he’d always tell me that I gave him peace.

I wouldn’t believe him but sometimes when we’d meet, I could see him buried under the weight of so many things, tension hiding beneath his dark circled eyes and his shoulders that had virtually given up. But everything would change within minutes. His face would brighten up, his eyes would speak a million mischievous things and his pink lips would sparkle like sunshine.

“Hey?” he said, probably the second or the third time.

“Where did you get lost?” he asked.

“In your thoughts, trying to find myself.” I said. All these months without him, I was becoming like him, good at words.

“Why did call me tonight?” he asked out of nowhere. I was a little taken aback. I looked left and then right and then relaxed.

“Because everyone else will call you tomorrow and I don’t want to be everyone else. I want to be someone who is not everyone to you.” I said, plainly and honestly.

“You’re not everyone to me, you’re everything to me and that will never change.” He said, as seriously as he could. And as much as I loved a serious version of him, I disliked it too. I loved the version of his that was happy or when he was not serious. Or maybe I just loved him, happy, sad or serious. He was good at everything he could be.

“Hey, I heard you’ve written something about us, about my birthday?” I asked, even though I knew, even though I had memorised each word of everything he wrote.

“I did.” He said, nothing more.

“Would you write about tonight?” I asked, eagerly.

“Maybe, if I get time.” he said.

“Or can I write about tonight?” I asked, suddenly, not even sure of what I was trying to say or do.

“I will show it to you.” I kept saying, wishing I didn’t.

“Yes, please. I’d love to read it.” He said with a surprise.

“Ok.” I said.

“Ok.” He replied.

We were both silent for the next few minutes. Silence that spoke a lot and silence that made me cry quietly.

“I wish you were here.” He whispered, with his broken voice again.

“I’m always with you.” I said, fully aware that I wouldn’t be.

“Time for me to go. It’s late.” I said right after, before he could say anything.

“Yeah, sure. It’s 1:50 am anyway.” He said. Back then 1:50 am was the time when our night would just start. Here we are now.

“Time changes everything.” I whispered.

“Time changes time itself.” He replied.

“Happy Birthday. Good night and Take care of yourself. Grow fat idiot.” I said and I cut the call. I did not wait for him to reply. I couldn’t, because his words, his voice wouldn’t let me.

I was sitting inside my car, right opposite to his balcony, on the roadside. I saw him switch off his bedroom light. I saw his face for the last time, in darkness. He looked sad. But somewhere deep inside he seemed peaceful.

I started my car, I felt like the car was crying too, not wanting to start at first. And when it did, I just drove. I drove straight and fast and I whispered to myself.

I wish he had seen me.