My life, your life, our lives
It’s like I’m her dirty little secret, and I don’t like it
one bit. Is she ashamed of me? Am I not worth her? These and questions similar
to these kept chasing in my head like a game of hide and go seek. I felt weary
and stretched to my limit. I have tried to be patient with her. Initially, it
was her broken marriage. I kept supporting her morally as she waded through the
thorny bushes of a legal battle. It had been nasty. There was no alimony. Not
that she had hoped for or wanted even. She was an independent woman,
financially sound and physically fit. All that she wanted was a supportive
partner. I had been her anchor then. It gave me pleasure to be the rock on
which she wanted to build her shaken self confidence.
That had been some two years ago. In the meantime much has
happened but I still remain a figure in the periphery of her life. I don’t
blame her. I try to put myself in her shoes. I know it must be difficult for
her. I’ve seen her shed tears over me when she thought I was sleeping. She
wants to be with me as much as I do. But… and that’s a big but. Some days I’m
okay with it. I look forward to the few stolen hours that we can afford for
each other behind the closed doors of my studio apartment. It’s not much and
definitely not a permanent solution. She says for now it has to be enough. How
long is that ‘now?’ I question her.
The fire in her sad eyes burn out every time I pose these
unanswerable questions. Those days usually end with me sleeping on the couch.
Not because she wants me to but because I don’t wish to be in the same bed with
her. I hate picking up fights with her. So, the couch becomes my self-imposed
punishment. She knows it too. In the early days of our courtship, she let me
be. But not anymore. Now she squeezes herself beside me on the tiny couch and
we end up making love. She doesn’t want us to lose any of the allotted time
that we have set aside for ourselves.
What she fails to realize is that it leaves me hungry for
more. Those days all I can think of is about the softness of her body over
mines. Her curves, angles, and squiggles — all of her. It drives me mad. I keep
floundering in my work. And I’m so desperate for her that I just close shop and
count the minutes to her arrival. Those fiery hours keep me wandering on the
street across her office. I don’t dare enter the building, for ours is a secret
too big to be handed out to people carelessly.
For now, this has to be enough. For now, two girls planning
a wedding is a remote possibility. And for now, all we want is for us to be
together. Legitimacy or illegitimacy are issues for the society to ponder.
These are not our burden to bear. All we know is love.
© Jonali Karmakar
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