Another August came, and new dreams were flourishing. I’d recently signed a contract to Saudi Arabia, and was preparing myself to leave Beirut for a few years for a job offer. It was a haze really, trying to adjust to the fact that I will be living somewhere else, in a new country with new people. I had quit my older job and was living out my Beirut life for as long as I could. My friends were supportive although deep inside I knew it was tearing them apart just as much as it was doing me. But they hid their tears, and for that I was grateful. Behind every laugh we laughed there was that ominous feeling that this will all change, but we kept our heads high and decided to enjoy every second I had left in the country.
It had been two years since Harry and I had not seen each other, through most of these two years I had convinced myself that I’d moved on. I’d gone out on dates and one night stands, explored what these had to offer. But nothing seemed to work out. As the months passed, my hoping heart had wanted to think I would forget him. But that did not happen. With more time, his memory would come back clearer. The awkwardness at first, the long conversations, the ease and the love, they were all still inside of me, but everyday pressure from work and my studies kept me busy, and although at times I let myself miss him- mostly because the alcohol allowed it- I had decided that I would be moving on. But things changed. I was to leave, a new chapter of my life had to close. But somehow it seemed there was some still unfinished business, a plot that was going in my life that never seemed to reach its resolution. Harry had said he was travelling, and that was the main reason we broke up. But Harry was still there, somewhere in the streets of Beirut and I never found out the reason…
It was all I could think about, so one night, while my friends and I were out in a club, after having a little bit too much to drink, an idea came to me. I would never be able to move on with my life unless some sort of closure was to take place, even if it was after two years. I wanted to make sure whether the reason we had broken up was really because he thought he was travelling, or it was just an excuse to get out of the relationship. I wanted to know whether he had loved me the same way I loved him, and the way he showed it, or it was just a lie. I wanted to know, since we both loved each other so much, and since he did not travel, why didn’t we try to make it work again. I nudged Jad.
“An idea just came to me.”
Jad looked at me with interest. He always loved my drunk ideas. Some of which had been of walking naked in the streets, or building spaceships throughout the years.
“I’m going to call Harry.” I said with the biggest smile on my face.
Jad regarded me, trying to hold his laugh.
“This, among all your drunk ideas, is by far the craziest you’ve had.”
I turned away, smiling still, and went on dancing like a madman.
The next day, as I was walking down the streets, I remembered last night’s idea, and my heart sank. Did I really say I wanted to call him? I called Jad to make sure, and he confirmed it half-laughing at the thought of it.
I closed the line with Jad, and looked through my phone book. I still had his number. Do I call? It’s been two damn years. Maybe he changed his number or something. What will I say to him? I felt a tingly feeling in my gut, the thought of me calling him after all this time was absurd, I mean I’d seen him around, and I’d said hello, but for me to call him out of the blue, it was absurd. Just absurd.
But another idea came to me: What else do I have to lose? If I never call him, I will never get my answers. I needed my closure. And as though on auto-pilot, I pressed the call button, put the phone to my ear, and wait.
… toot… toot… tooooot.
[…to be continued]