A Few More Reasons

Chapter 8

"So can I ask you personal questions now?" I ask him, as I cut the porkchop with my fork and spoon.

"Go ahead," he says, crossing his arms.

"So how did you and uhm... Gunther, the two of you, uhm..." I sway my fork back and forth. "...became together?"

He leans forward again with a wide smile on his face. "Okay, let me tell you a not-so-long story."

I nod while chewing this tender porkchop.

"We were very close friends in our high school days, we belong to the same group of friends. One night, we all drink together in one of our friends house, and guess what, all of us were drunk, so yeah. The rest of our group slept in the rooms but I went outside, to the balcony and just watched the moon and the polaris in the sky. Then he followed me there, he's more drunk than I was. You know what he said?" His smile becomes wider and his cheeks blush.

"Continue," I say. Why does he smiles while he's telling their story? When all I know is he's angry with him or maybe sad. I guess it was what we felt during those memories, not particularly what happened after. Maybe memories really define how happy the relationship was, not the person.

"I know that you love the stars, and I'm wishing that when you look at them in your darkest night, I wish you'll think of me... I really have no idea what he's talking about or where this conversation will go, but he looked me in the eyes and... kissed me. That's how we started."

"Boring," I say, with my chin on the heel of my hand.

"At least someone loved me for who I am, I'm truly grateful for him coming into my life. Though it ended, I wish I could go back to that night in the balcony and start over again." His voice lowers while he puts his utensils on the table. "I wish he could be a better man and I would be a better lover."

Since I have no idea what it feels like in a relationship, my head's filled with questions about how it's like, what does it feels like to be wanted? I realized that I'm always by my own and no one wants me in their life.

"So tell me, are you happy?"

"Now or when I was with him?" He drinks his hot choco. "So if you're talking about the years that we spent, absolutely yes. I'm really happy that he's there when I cry, he's there when I smile. He's there in my darknest nights. I thought I just love the idea of him being there at my side, I was happy. But now, I'm not, I still wanna get back to him but it's not gonna work anyway."

I take a sip too of my drink. Love, is more complicated than figuring out why my mental health ended up this way. I understand what he's saying but I can't empathize, 'cause it didn't happen to me yet, and I guess the best practice to learn empathy is to actually experience it.

"Very dramatic," I say. "That's why I have no time in romantic relationships, so sorry... for that letter."

His eyes get wide and look away. "Can we please not talk about that letter? That's the only thing I want to take off my mind."

His mood suddenly change. So he doesn't want to talk about his feelings for me, but he still sent a second letter, right? What's that supposed to mean? I already said sorry to him and I hope he understands that I rejected him.

I nod. "Sure, but I hope there's no awkward atmosphere between us."

"I'm the one who should say that," he laugh. At least I see him smile again. "Thanks for understanding me."

I lift my fork with another slice, "You're truly welcome." Then put it in my mouth.

He laughs lightly while covering his mouth. It's so contagious, I can't help it but smile also.