Closure II

Maybe it's just the weather. Probably. Hopefully. Because I really don't know why you suddenly re-surfaced in my mind after all of these months, right when I thought I had you tucked in right and under control.

Anyways.

I was out on the street with "Ray" and "Carrot" deliberating between the bar or the gas station (it was 9am, so our getting alcohol was a bit of a critical situation), when I looked up a the impossibly ugly weather and cringed. A total "Joy Division sky", as Millie would say. I tugged at my ridiculous bright orange jacket (not my fault - I borrowed it, okay?) and held on tight to my umbrella, and just cringed. "Oh no," I thought, "here they come". And sure enough, the second I found myself alone again, shitloads of memories began pouring down over my head, along with the annoyingly insistent rain.

It was the sixth of July and I'd flown all the way over there with piles of idealized hopes for our one day together. You'd taken the train, just like in the movies, and I couldn't feel giddier about this if I tried. As usual, with you and me, I'd just gotten there the day before and you were just about to leave on the day after. You were headed to the place we met and I, the hopeless romantic, was finding it all extremely poetic.

So I woke up on that unfamiliar bed that morning and rushed straight into the shower. Yes, I did use every single primping product I managed to get my hands on just in case, and yes, I did spend ages walking around the room with my soaking wet hair and that impossibly fluffy hotel towel trying to pick out an outfit. I kept checking the weather outside because despite how miraculously clear the skies were, it was unbelievably cold for a summer day. I settled for my favorite cropped denim skirt, a cute pink shirt and a light sweater, even though I knew I'd feel cold the minute I left the flat. But I was stubborn like that for such things - still am.

And so I waited at the front desk for what felt like years (proudly announcing "I'm waiting for someone" every time one of you overly polite Brits offered me help) until I finally felt the need to stand up. I got up and went outside, fiddling with my rings and biting on my lip and tugging at my hair and telling my heart to shut up. I didn't exactly know why I chose to stand up at that exact moment... until I saw you, standing by the rusty iron gates with that adorable lost expression on your face. Our eyes locked. You smiled. We walked towards each other and produced a sort of awkward how-do-we-act-now hug. I laughed and you joined me and we hugged again - and this time I felt safe and warm steady in your arms.

You wanted to meet my parents, despite my protests, so up we went. My dad gave you about thirty seven head-to-toe once-overs and I just knew he'd have some sort of comment to make about your sexy v-neck sailor shirt and crooked wool hat (which he did, only later - thank god). After those few tense minutes I slipped my hand around your wrist and dragged you off to the streets. I wanted you just for myself all day.

What we did on that weirdly life-changing sixth of July isn't really that important, now that I think about it. It just isn't. Yes, there were bagels on vintage bistrots, a totally lkafjdskk visit to a dingy museum with none of its lights on, and an ass-freezing walk in the world's most poetic park, but other than that, there was nothing. Nothing but the growing distance between us that had started precisely two years ago, the minute I left you outside my dorm room while the cops finally left after yelling at us in Chinese.

It started to rain right about when you were supposed to be dropping me off to catch the train back to your hometown. I cursed the (unsurprisingly) cold weather before I finally blamed myself for my wardrobe choice, until you gave me your jacket and took out a bright red umbrella from your stylish mailman bag. I laughed and you didn't get why - you just proceeded to open it up over our heads. It was tiny and we had to squeeze underneath it to avoid getting wet - not that I was complaining. In fact, the size of my smile had just about quadrupled as our hands touched, and all I could think was "at fucking last!". I made a point to give you sideways looks from time to time and you noticed them. Your sexy thin lips curved upwards in a discreet smile and I have no idea how I didn't just push you up against the nearest wall and jumped you right there and then. I mean it!

"We're here," you said with a choked up whisper. We had reached a large busy avenue and it was (again) just like in the movies: the cars and the people rushed past us while the rain ceased to a stop as if on cue, and there we stood, face to face.

"So..." I began, taking the brave step forward.

"So..." you repeated, closing your ridiculously comic red umbrella. I watched you and you looked right back at me and I couldn't read your eyes if my life depended on it. Panic grew inside me exponentially. You thanked me for the gift I brought you all the way from home and I thanked you for yours and for our day together. You stepped forward too, closing up the distance between us, and hugged me tight. I hugged you right back, with my heart dropping to the pits of my stomach. That would be it and I knew it. I indulged in your feel, your warmth, your smell, and then finally got myself to let you go. I gave you a valedictory smile and you returned it, and then we were off. Strangers walking down the street in opposite directions. I didn't dare look back to see if you were looking at me because I knew I'd drop dead when you weren't.

And that was that.

So as I stood there with my new friends, bracing myself for the rain while living my brand new post-you life, I finally got it. I was tired of feeling like that postcard you no longer cared for (like on that song I'd written you months ago) and was surprisingly okay with it. Okay with tired, okay with not needing you anymore, okay with diving into memories of the two of us - you name it. And yes, I do become a total bitch every time I see your irresistible black and white pictures with her on a beach somewhere, but hey... We had a history together. One of those exciting and breath-taking movie stories people never believe can happen. But you know what the London rain made me realize today? That I liked it and that I don't regret it. More importantly, that I'm ready to feel that way again. But in reverse. Or not. Or both. Oh well. I'm not making any sense outside my head, I know, but then again... I never do when I feel this way.

And I suspect I do feel "this way".

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