First StepsA Chapter by Peter Regal WhittamDo you remember the times we had spent together? No, I'm not going
down the long, clichéd road to romantic reminiscence. Don't you worry about
that. Frankly, I don't think we had much of those, anyway. It's funny how
friendship can offer more memories than anything supposedly deeper...at least
memories worth remembering. But
I digress. As you may have already guessed, I am talking about the times we
spent as friends. Quite a lot of history we have together, don't we? Moments
spent alone in the classroom, when laughter was never scarce in our
conversations. It was amazing, how varied the topics of our conversation could
become. I remember one particular incidence, where we began talking about our
IGCSE exams, and ended up arguing about which of Linkin Park’s song was the
best, with everything ranging from food, the weather, books and Economics
discussed in between…all in a span on half an hour. We never ran out of things
to talk about, and even a second of hush would immediately be replaced with
voices, even when the matter of discussion would be completely meaningless. It
didn’t matter how pointless or mundane the matter of discussion was " fact is,
we didn’t care what we were talking about. It was the company that held the
most value for us. I mean, let’s face it: which two people would argue
incessantly for hours over something as insignificant as whether a clock was
five minutes slow? The plain answer would be: two people who talk to each other
not for the sake of talking, but for the companionship they provided to each
other. How
about the times when you used to borrow one bud of my earphones so that we
could listen to music together? I would always ask you to take two so that you
would have a better listening experience, yet you always insisted that we
share. Although yes, I must confess that whenever I asked you to take both ear
buds, I secretly hoped that you would decline; chivalry, if you can it that in
this logic, was prerequisite, but it didn’t have to mean I would have to like
it every time. Your perfume wafted up to me every time, taking over my senses
and blocking out whatever tune was being played through into my ears. I would,
in a word, lost, in every sense of the word. Very little could pull me out of
my trance, save the shrill squeak you let out when your favorite songs changed
into perhaps a heavy drum solo or any of my heavy metal tracks. “Why,” you
would say, “do you listen to that trash? They’re just noise pollution, if you
ask me.” A retort would follow, and soon enough, we’d be locked in another one
of those arguments I had come to cherish so much. And
oh, the teasing! I always did love teasing you, be it about the boy you thought
was cute, about the time you mispronounced the word "modal", but
mostly about your tomboyish nature. My favorite line was “Doesn't matter
what you look like. You keep acting like a guy, so maybe you were meant to be
one. You don’t even like girly things!” That never failed to get you riled up.
Even though you hit me on the arm every time, there was always a coy smile
playing at the corners of your lips, a smile that never failed to enchant me.
There is something in a girl's smile that has the magic to outshine her most
delicious laugh. Then
there were the walks. I doubt there was any other part of the day I looked
forward to as eagerly as the one when I had the sheer fortune to walk you home.
I had always noticed how you took the longest route to our destination. Often,
we would end up ambling on for hours to complete a trip of five short minutes.
I didn't mind, though. In a journey in which even the silence held the most
profound meaning, in which our footsteps unknowingly synchronized while we
talked, teased and laughed, who in their right minds would complain? Why
you took the longest roads home, however, is beyond me. Was
it just because you liked walking? Or did you enjoy the company I provided?
Despite the questions, one thing I did know: the paths we took grew longer with
the increasing depth of our friendship. And given the dislike of aimless
wanderings I had back then, it was out of the question that I had ever loved
such experiences with someone else as much as I did with you. These were the only shreds of reality I clung to when we parted every night, only to meet again the next morning. You would not believe it if I told you the impact you had on me. It was as if I was living in a fantasy. Everything was going the way I wanted to. What my emotions were morphing into, I did not know then. And if I had known what catastrophe that would've brought us, I’d have backed off so fast, you’d be cursing me for vanishing from your life without so much as a moment’s notice. © 2014 Peter Regal Whittam |
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1 Review Added on November 5, 2013 Last Updated on September 2, 2014 AuthorPeter Regal WhittamChittagong, BangladeshAboutHello, I'm Peter, a hobbyist writer. I have always had an attraction towards what I like to call "text-based art", but my passion for writing did not bloom until recently, and it has been growing ever.. more..Writing
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