It’s The Perfect Ending

“It’s the perfect ending.” I argued.
“It’s a sin.” Was his reply. I sighed loudly. He tried to hide his… was it sadness or frustration?
“The boy would live his whole life suffering…” He tried to explain to me, I was already far way dreaming of this perfect ending. Maybe this is what it all amounts to in the end? Was I really born in the wrong era? Where love is just what “happens” along the way in ones life?
“No.” I interrupted him. I don’t even know what he was saying. I think I surprised him. In between deep breaths I explained my side to him,
“Love.
It’s everything.
When you like someone it’s different, it’s fun, cute, flirty even. But love, it’s what happens to your soul. And it’s not something that just follows through, it happens in an instant. Sometimes you realize it days, or even months later…
But I realized it in that one second when you were leaving my terrace, saying good bye.” He started to say something, but I coughed loudly. Startled, he stayed quiet.
I smiled, and continued,
“It wasn’t our last good bye and I knew that.”
We were both silent. I knew he was uncomfortable. I knew that this was not something that he wanted to talk about, day after day. I would switch my phone off and not speak to him for days, and then one day I would call him, either I’d be in tears, or I’d be telling him about my day as if nothing had passed between us.
He was tired I knew that.

But for an unexplainable reason, he wanted to listen too.
So I told him a story,

This story starts at the end. The girl, let’s call her Roxanne, obviously, she’s dead.
In fact, she just died. If this were a movie, the first scene would be her smiling face, her perfect eyes closed, maybe her mouth slightly open… One would think she’s sleeping, till they went close to wake her up. If this were a book, the first line would pretty much be this, Roxanne just died.
Far away, a lone Wanderer walks along a river, maybe in Spain… He’s talking to a girl, she’s attractive; tall, perfect straight hair, deep dark eyes, a smile many would kill for even. So our Wanderer is with this girl. He’s telling her about Love. She says she’s experienced this feeling before. He laughs, looks into her smitten eyes, and tells her if her soul doesn’t pain, she’s not experienced Love.
“Does your soul hurt?” She asks innocently. But one look into his eyes, and she knows he will never love again.
There’s a silence around them suddenly. He tries to hide his discomfort by listening to her, but something has changed inside of him. He wonders… He’s heard of signs, and messages being sent from one soul to another, and he’s felt Her soul talk to his many times… But this was something different. It was not pain, it was not joy, was it relief? Or maybe even eternal peace?
He froze. He needed to be alone. He had to ask this girl to leave. She did without asking any questions. Later on she told her curious friends, “It felt like I was interrupting something. He seemed to be in conversation with someone, but it was only us there… I can’t explain… or understand.”
But he did.
She was sending him a message, now he just had to sit somewhere, and wait till he understood.

Finding a spot by the river, he sat down and lit a cigarette. Not a bird seemed to be make a sound, the air was silent, the water seemed to be still too. He looked into his clear reflection, looked into his eyes… it was like the window to Her soul.
Everything had come to a standstill, it was as if nothing was alive around him.

If this were a movie, his eyes would open wide, the cigarette falling from his lips. A tear would gently fall on to his cheek. And he would feel a different breath escaping his body. Maybe, for dramatic effect, he would let out a scream; the kind when maybe a limb or a bone is torn away from one’s body. But this would be far greater. Because a piece of his Soul was just torn.

And far away from Her Wanderer by the river, her last breath would have left her and she would finally have got her happy ending.

“Just stop talking. Stop it right now!” He shouted. I think he was saying this for sometime now, but I was too lost in my story of Roxanne. I was jealous of her. Her wait was over. Her story had reached the last page.
“How is this a good story?” He demanded, his voice was rising. I knew I had upset him. But I was merely telling him the truth. Before I could reply he answered his own question,
“The Wanderer… he’s going to die with this sin. He’s never going to be happy. He’s never going to understand… or live his dream where one day all roads will lead back to Her. She’s gone, forever…
How can the last thing he said to her have been ‘good bye’?” He was breathing faster now. I coughed a little.

“It’s the perfect ending.” I repeated, “Both the Souls get what they have wanted. She got his love, she had his memory. He became the Wanderer that he had left her for. He had her stories to tell the World. He held his lovers hand in his dream. They both got their perfect ending.”
“But none of them are happy…” He said.
“But she died with his love as her last thought. And he lived on, with her love as his dream.” I explained patiently.
“That doesn’t make sense…” He wanted to change the topic, “I should go now…”
“Why doesn’t it make sense?
You got your ending, now it’s time for mine.”

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