The Goodbye

"I will see you soon," he said.

It was the most uncertain promise. How long is soon? The gap between today and the last time we met in person was 342 days. Will we really see each other next time, even if he comes back? Our homes are not in the same city, and thus, a few of his homecomings have gone without us seeing each other. Mostly, we exist through phone calls, text messages, and shared glimpses of our separate worlds. I will send him pictures of the beautiful blossoms near my house, cute animals acting all weird, and he will reply with photos of the food he cooks and breathtaking mountains. Oh, how I wish we could capture these together.

Today had been one of the best days in a long while. Over the past month, I had been assigned to fix a cluster of critical code bugs no one had seen before. Consequently, everyone chipped in with their half-baked solutions, and I spent weeks testing all of them along with my own ideas. When I realized he would arrive in a week, I refocused my efforts, worked with a strange calm, and somehow wrapped up everything in two days. At least he is useful somewhere, I thought, in a teasing manner.

Anyway, since we meet once in a blue moon, we always have our bulk gift exchange ritual. Amongst all the treasures he gathered from different corners of the world, I always look forward to two things - fridge magnets and coins. I know they are neither expensive nor the most lucrative, and he also says so, but I can not help myself. I tell all my friends and colleagues, let alone him, to bring me a coin from the country they visit. And fridge magnets? For me, at present, there is no more symbolic way to remember a place. There can be other things, but fridge magnets are just so ...

"Are you okay?" I asked, slinging my backpack on and grabbing the two heavy suitcases. 

She always offers to take the heavier one, and, every time, unbeknownst to her, I give her the lighter. This time, she didn't ask, but instead snatched the one from my right hand and started pacing towards the elevator area. I understood that she was trying to avoid the question. 

I followed her quietly and pushed the button for the ground floor. She frowned, as if wishing I hadn't. The door opened after about two minutes; perhaps others were also leaving for their homes, which was the cause of the delay. 

We adjusted ourselves in the confines of the steel box. I briefly opened my backpack to check for the framed Ghibli painting of us at a railway station and the resin art she had made for me. I couldn't imagine creating something like that for her, not because I wouldn't, but because I'm just not good at such things. I often ponder whether I am doing enough. She has done so much for me, not just with gifts, but in life, through patience and care, shaping me into who I am today. 

Suddenly, I glanced at the time and sensed that she had been silent for the better part of the last ten minutes. I turned to my right and looked at her with a warm smile of comfort, patiently waiting for her to say something. 

At this point, he is probably expecting an answer. 

Am I okay? I don't think I am. 

I want to ask him what he feels. I mean, what kind of question is this? How could I be okay not knowing when, where, and how we'll meet again? It's not as if I can just call him to go shopping later, grab dinner, or watch the sunset at the beach. 

If I speak, I'll cry. And if I cry, he will too. For all his calm and strong persona, he exhibits from the outside, he is fragile in the ways that matter. 

The elevator had halted. We were at the front and had to step out first. I wished we were at the back, so I could steal a few more seconds beside him. As soon as we walked out, I saw the door to the tea room and rushed toward it, before he could guess what I was doing. 

"We have to go now, otherwise we will miss your cab." She was going to get a few tea bags. Within a minute, she returned with a small pouch and placed it upon my right palm. I looked at her with a bit of astonishment,

"I know, you love green tea, take a few, a small gift from me," she said, and started heading towards the exit.

I couldn't help but smile. Amidst all the rush, she remembered. What would I be without her? Every time we meet, I pour out everything in extraordinary detail about what has happened to me - the good, the bad, and the in-between. I feel a sense of tranquillity when describing things as I am next to her. She already knows most of these; nevertheless, she listens to all, with her thumb tracing slow circles on my hand, telling me in her kind, magical voice that I will come out stronger. 

"That's where the cab is," I broke the silence. I hate this moment. I absolutely hate it. From tomorrow, I wouldn't have him beside me while eating lunch, no one to comfort and massage me after a stressful day, to explore places, to play table tennis, to joke freely, or to hold me when ...

"Ishu," I whispered, pulling her close, "have a safe journey back home." I hugged her and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. She rested her head on my chest, as always, which she feels is a second home. 

... I am losing myself, and comfort me this way. This is making it even more difficult now. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want the clock to move forward, like it always does.

"You too. When will we see each other next?" I asked, knowing it's not a question which has an answer that will excite either of us. 

"I will see you soon," he said.

I know what he will do now. He'll go to the isolated bench in the garden, take a few deep breaths, shed quiet tears, book a cab to the airport, and leave for an unknown time. I hope he knows how much I appreciate and adore him, how deeply I cherish who he has become.

I sat down on the same green bench I always choose when booking a cab from her office. My eyes blurred as I tried to tap the options on my phone. Somehow, I managed. The cab arrived in ten minutes, headed in the opposite direction from where she’d gone. 

I loaded my bags, shared the pin, and opened the window to let the air touch my face. 

I know, we were both looking outside, searching for the familiar face in a city of strangers.

Siba Smarak Panigrahi