“Think before you decide.”
It sounded like an ultimatum though I guessed it was what I needed in my life.
Without a doubt, she was the mature part in our relationship. I was immature so I took all the burden of getting at par with her. I wanted a trophy: she wanted romance.
All the lessons and techniques I learned from my classmate, who flew to the States after graduation, were irrelevant. Those were for playing around, never for serious matters of the heart.
How could I be mature? Taking out the im (I am) from the word was like removing one’s self-importance from the equation. More on giving than receiving.
Like an old vinyl record, I had played Side A every time. I was satisfied with regularity and normalcy that attempting to listen to Side B was considered experimentation.
I did give it a try.
My mother was given a T-shirt by one of our store suppliers. Such a giveaway often went to my father because it fitted him quite well. This time it was a bit smaller so I had the chance to grab it away from him.
I wore it proudly on the way to my girl’s house. She would be elated to see me.
However, she was frowning as I approached her. It was not the reaction I expected.
“Are you ill?” she asked after the initial pleasantries. She placed her palm on my forehead and then to my neck to feel if I had fever. “You seem to be okay.”
“I am okay,” I assured her. “What gave you that idea? I won’t be here if I am sick.”
She was unsure how to reply. Where her eyes stared at gave her away.
“You don’t have to follow everything I said if you are only forced to do so.”
“No, I am serious,” I said while adjusting the hem of my shirt. “I feel sunnier today.”