P has been on my mind for years. His last words to me came to haunt me much after he spoke them - "I hope you fall in love with someone as difficult as you are. Then you'll know how I feel". I have loved only "difficult" men since and pine for simplicity. I call it the "Curse of P" on my life.
Many times in the last ten years I have longed talk to P one last time to let him know I treasured how he felt about me, that I always wished him happiness he would not have found with me. That I had loved him equally. In some corner of the world, I imagine an older, wiser P surrounded by a loving wife and a couple of kids - the picture of perfect domestic bliss. I know no one more deserving of happiness than he.
Yet, P has vanished without a trace. I hesitate to reach out to him through our batchmates from college. It would embarrass both of us - we were both fiendish about privacy. I have trawled Google time over time but my precious Akoya pearl never surfaces.
Yesterday on a desi matri site I saw a profile with a picture that made me jump out of my skin. It was K - P's very best buddy and by transference my friend. I don't know why I can't believe the dude is divorced. My immediate reaction was a "OMG" meets "Holy Shit!"
Next to Soup my dear friend who mysteriously and disturbingly went out of circulation five years ago, K would be only person I could trust to get me in touch with P. The only way to do that was to respond to his ad and hope he'd accept. Once he knew who I was, he'd know exactly why I had contacted him. I'd not even need to explain. I kept my fingers crossed.
Earlier today I was notified that K had declined. This is the closest I have come to being able to reach P in the last ten years - it was almost like a dream. And like a dream it ended in wakefulness. Maybe I should stop seeking closure with P - maybe some things are best left be. Please, P for old times' sake and for all that we once meant to each other wish for me simplicty.
I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...
Comments