Sometimes it shocks me to know that Lukas doesn’t care. I want to believe he does, and that something else must be going on for him to be silent. I mean, there is a probability for that, right? He could be in Jail, he could be sick, or he could be dead! I pray to God that he is not dead!
But, it’s weird. More so because this has happened to me once before, and I didn’t really want to go through it again.
This is exactly what my first love did.
On the 26th December 2000, he called me to announce that this particular girl he was interested in said “Yes”. We had agreed that we were to split-up once he has a girlfriend, but forever be friends and be there for each other. I had helped him write letters and cards to this girl. I wrote poems, and love verses. They probably reflected what I felt for him, but I wrote for him to give to her. That’s how much I loved him. I wanted him to be happy.
The same day I told him that I had come out to my parents and sister. He was shocked. He didn’t like the fact that my mother knew he fucked her son! He was petrified that my mother knew I loved him, it was more than just a fuck. He did say how unpleased he was about this news. But, unlike him, I had decided who I was, and decided to face my fears and show myself, rather than hiding behind an innocent girl. It was easier as I had a sister, and I didn’t want it to happen to her.
A day went by, a month went by, a year went by. No phone calls. I couldn’t call his home, as I was already labeled a “Bad Influence”! So I was depending on him calling me.
Finally, it became part of my life. It was so “once upon a time”, that it escaped from my reality into some dream-like place.
Four years or so later, I was driving the van we owned, a Mazda Bongo. Mom and I were arguing about something, and I was quite unhappy already. There he was driving towards me, his parents van. He drove past me, and didn’t see me. Both Mom and I saw him. In fact it was Mom who pointed him out.
I became numb. All of a sudden I realized, he was not dead! In fact, he was living in a parellel universe, but not in mine. Four years, it had already become a distant memory, as if it never happened. But there he was, in flesh and blood. Driving past me, in front of Sri Lanka Telecom in Athulkotte, Sri Lanka.
Tears poured down, I couldn’t stop it. And then I cried like a baby. My Mom, who wasn’t fully accepting who I was at the time, mainly because of the insults the world would throw at me, asked me to park the van on the side of the road. She took the wheel, and let me cry all I wanted. She didn’t know what to say, but she let me cry. That day I realized how much she loves me.
That same year we met again, we had got in touch. We met at Carnival Ice Cream Parlour, Kollupitiya, Sri Lanka. I wanted to meet to ask him why he went quiet.
When I asked him:
“Did you mean it everytime you said ‘I Love You'”,
His answer was:
“Of Course, I did”.
His eyes were constantly on me, he sat close to me, held my hand, and his body language told me he still felt for me, or maybe I wanted to believe that.
He was wearing a silver bracelet. I causally said to him:
“That’s a very nice bracelet. It suits you”
Next thing I know, he removed it and was wearing it on my wrist, asking me to keep it. There was no saying “No”, I’m sure he said the secret code “I Love You“, which used to mean “No further arguments”. I wore it quite often, but it got stolen.
Years later, in 2015, in a different country, a different guy, Lukas, decides to buy me a very similar silver bracelet. In fact we bought each other the same, it was a “sign of engagement” or a “token of love”. We had earlier decided to exchange rings, but last minute we both decided it was too serious. So bracelet it was.
Last year, in 2017, out of anger, that he couldn’t take one week’s leave to come and be with me, when I was going through hell, I threw it out of the window of my car, while driving on the Tullamarine freeway, Victoria, Australia, near Bulla Road exit. I messaged him that, just to spite him. Maybe he didn’t care even back then. I cared. In fact, I’m still carrying it in my heart, although physically thrown. Maybe he never carried it, although physically not thrown.
Now it’s silence, once again. First love, and Last love, both decided to go silent on me.
My first love, I forgive. We were only Seventeen. It would have been difficult, being the “masculine” sort of guy, in a culture that spoke nothing about it. He always told me how confused he was, and how he liked both girls and boys. So I get it, although I suffered for 15 more years since the break-up, I get it.
But, Lukas, being born and raised in a western cultured country, and when we had discussed so many things openly, why did he decide to play with my heart? Or was it me who was playing with my own heart? Now I’m confused!
Maybe it is all my doing. It has to be! I’m the common element in both relationships. I must have done something wrong. I will look into it, I always have, and always will. I know it’s only me, I can change or correct.
But, I’m still shocked. Shocked by his silence.
Silence has never been the nicest method to say goodbye!
– Nim –