“Let’s play a game.”
She didn’t look because she knew who it was. That voice haunted her dreams and had her waking up in tears. That voice was forever ingrained on every part of her brain. She leaned back on the wooden bench and muttered softly, “What game?”
“You know what.”
She wanted to scream at him. Shake him by the shoulders and then smack him on the head…continuously…with a baseball bat. Didn’t he make it clear that they should just leave everything behind them and pretend like they didn’t happen? She shook her head.
“Come on. You loved that game.”
Added emphasis on “loved”. She “loved” it. But not anymore. Not when playing that game only reminded her of him. What’s he playing at, anyway? “Not anymore,” she scoffed offhandedly.
“Do you know the story of that little girl with the striped sweater and the little boy chasing her around?”
She knew it. He would still do the thing even if she didn’t want to. She tried to smirk in disdain but she couldn’t. She could not attempt at even a sarcastic smile because of his presence. Even though he’s two rulers away from her on that bench, she felt him looming over her, like a dark cloud blocking her sunlight. That sunlight was her only shot at happiness and he robbed her of it yet again.
“They were best friends since birth. He tried giving her a flower once as a sign of his admiration but she gave it back almost immediately. She said she saw it on a movie once. ‘You’re practically engaged when you give a flower to a girl,’ she said in her know-it-all grown up tone. He asked her what ‘engaged’ means and she just shrugged. Because she didn’t know, too.”
He chuckled under his breath. It was forced, like it was just instinct to laugh after his made-up background story. Her throat was clogged. She couldn’t fathom why. Maybe because that story resembled something. She couldn’t be bothered to let him know about that. She continued to stare at the distance, her vision growing blurry. He cleared his throat.
“How about that old man with the cane?”
She needed to retort. She needed to make him stop. She needed him to stop talking and just walk away. Forever. He didn’t need to complicate things further. She hoped he noticed her going stiff as a board, trying her best to block out his voice in vain.
“He was still waiting in vain for his one and only love. He still believed she was still out there, breathing in the sunlight. That woman loved sunlight, he reminisced. She wasn’t afraid of sunburns and what-not. She loved the feel of the rays of the sun kissing her skin. He chuckled. He remembered teasing her that maybe it’s good for her, the sunlight. She’s too pale in his opinion. She proceeded to slap him on the arm none too gently. He still walked around this park because it’s easy to fool himself that she’s still there, loving the sunlight more than him. Just like the usual.”
He must be sadistic. Yep. That’s it. He was out for her. He wanted her to die a slow and painful death in his arms. She could feel her chest constricting, as if her heart was threatening to come out of it to jump to its painful death on the hard concrete below. Tears stung her eyes and maybe a few more words from him, she’d be bawling soon. She wanted to look at him but she willed herself not to.
“And then there’s that lady in the lacy dress cradling a small bundle on her arms under the shade of the tree. The father of her baby left her last night. She woke up with a tear-streaked face. But she put on a smile and cooed at her child. She brought the tyke here today so she’d forget her troubles…hopefully. She knew she’d get over that bastard. But she wouldn’t deny she still loved him despite all. And if he comes back, she’d welcome him back with open arms if her child would.”
