Simmer & Stir

Chapter 34

Dear Philip,

I am tired.

It's been a month, two weeks, three days, fourteen minutes and as I wrote this, two seconds since we spoke. Since we fought.

You haven't called your folks, neither have you written back to me. I hope that you've received my letter. I hope it was not sent to some other Philip Fernandez.

Philip, answer me back. Talk to me. Call me up even if it is to yell at me. If you have moved on, please tell me that so I can bury the thought of never knowing when I would get to talk to you.

Linda gave me your personal email. Now that I think of it, what kind of girlfriend I was to not know your mail-id. Maybe the selfish kind. Maybe I was the kind of girlfriend who pushed people away to such an extent that they'd never want to talk to her.

Don't worry, I wasn't trying to guilt-trip you. All I ask of you and hope was that you'd provide me with closure.

If you've moved on and found someone worthy of your attention and your love, I wish you all the luck. I hope, you have a great life with her. I hope you are happy and this mail would be the last of my communications to you.

I am sorry for not taking your hints, Philip. I'm sorry for what I did to you, to us. I am glad to have found a friend in you, someone whom I can boast about to everyone.

I wish and pray, somewhere over this lifetime, we meet again.

Do say hi to me then.

~

The cursor blinked at me, asking me to sign off.

Suddenly it didn't feel right to end the letter with love. Having acknowledged the fact that Philip had clearly moved on while I stayed stagnant - a fool for hoping him to come back.

The words - Your faithfully, sincerely, all felt fake. I love Philip but I was also prudent. I didn't want my mail to land in some girl's hand who might be dating him. I didn't want to be the reason he was hurt more.

God, just the thought of him having moved on wrenched and squeezed my insides. My thoughts betrayed me. It painted a picture of Philip with some breathtaking beauty, someone with a slender waist and long legs. Someone who would wear his shiny engagement ring in her bony finger. Someone who would make him have his happily ever after.

I, on the other hand, would dunk myself in work all day, overeat lobster bisque and eventually die.

The cursor called out to me. The screen flashed up a message.

Do you want to save the mail?

Did I want to? Would I get closure, not sending it?

I pressed enter, watching the blinking stop and the churning commence.

Philip may or may not have received my letter but this would surely narrate his choice, his decision.

Hope was dangerous in these situations. So I flushed it out of my memory, pressed my laptop's flap shut and looked over to the street from the seat which Philip preferred.

Linda and I decided to meet after Jo Clementine informed me about the Three Aces takeover. Though the news was kept under covers, I knew GM's tyrannic days were over.

It was Linda, who contacted me a few days earlier, telling me she wanted to chat. I knew that she was excited about her father's exit. She was brimming with hope again.