“It was her company he desired. He wanted to put his arms around her and to sit in silence, staring into the fire, drinking wine, smoking the occasional cigarette; that would be enough. Life was made up of simple things; he was weary of all the years he had spent searching for something, though quite what he didn’t know.”
-Eleven Minutes, Paulo Coelho
She had thought about this moment. She had been waiting to be with him again, in a quiet room, talking about dreams and silly stories, listening to him about the places he’d traveled. She had been longing to fall asleep in his arms- to cling to him as they catch their breath feeling totally complete after being emptied of desire, of longing for each other. There was no point in talking now.
She had imagined this moment, the same man yet she knew then he was not the one she loved, not anymore. She had wished for this meeting, she had seen it in her dreams- even before she saw him again that day, before he invited her for coffee and a little chat, before she surrendered to the promise of another chance. Before she risked all that was left of her and who they were- a beautiful memory of a love that was meant to be but wasn’t meant to last.
She had always believed, that the best stories exists only in the imagination, expressed in art, or told in films. It was him who had taught her to be brave. He had taught her to trust the real, to trust him, to trust what they had. She never thought he had failed her, even when he left.
It was more than enough time to wait. She said she’s going as she dressed. He got up and sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t say a thing. She didn’t even expect anything more than that anyway. Sometimes we just want to wait, even it is for nothing. It was painful, how she tried her best to hold back her tears, to not let him see her cry, to not show him how much he had helped her find herself only to lose it in his company again and again. It was not only failing him by letting him see the same girl who has not learned what her value was. She knew she was failing herself just the same. Because she stood there in that moment and she was nothing- she was nothing to the only man who once made her see what she’s truly worth.
It was letting go, of a love that was all she asked of life. It was accepting the reality about a dream she had always cherished. She was losing the man she loved for the second time. She wanted to regret the last two hours of her life, go back to when she had high hopes of her man coming back. She’s looking at him now, and she didn’t find what she was long waiting for. She wanted to say she wished for it to not have happened. But she knew she’d be lying. For she would choose him, choose love over and over no matter how it hurts. She has put on her shirt, worn her necklace and looked straight in his eyes. Her tears blur his image, she didn’t care much anymore.
“Could you lie? For a moment. Could you lie and just stop being honest for a while. Can I ask this of you, just this time.” She struggled with her voice breaking. He looked at her, still without a word.
“Could you tell me you’re sorry. Could you tell me you’re sorry… for leaving me?”
There were tears in his eyes too, waiting to fall. But it had no power over his mind. He never let feelings define himself. She grabbed her bag from the table and left. She can’t remember how long she stood looking at him, waiting for words he could not speak. He was right when he said love is not for the fainthearted. She was right when she said, before he even met her, that she was not the one he needed.