How Very Déclassé

Dear Al,

It was a very random day. I was in ColdStone with my cousins. You were tanned. You were wearing a kandoora and had a ghetra on. You had your aviator on the end of your nose and a Mont Blanc pen hung on your kandoora’s button. You were holding two mobiles, one black with its’ headphones, and another silver phone. Your head was held up high; your honey eyes were roaming around for a waiter to talk to.

My jaw dropped when I heard you talking. You had a fluent English accent. English, not American. It was like I’ve seen one of the seven wonders! How often do you hear locals talking anything that fluent? LOL!

Anyhow, a waiter came to assist, and you ordered a cake. You asked the waiter to take it down to the parking lot, to your car. The waiter asked for your number, I tried hard not to listen but I did. I thought to myself that I would do nothing about it… Only if you say it again. And the waiter asked you to repeat the number! Odd much? So, the number engraved in my head.

I struggled with my hand, my fingers, not to right down the number, but I did. But then, I had another fight with my head, not to text you in any way! But I did… And I texted, “That was one hell of a great fluent accent!” I was nervously waiting for your reply, and the phone’s beep got me jumping from my place; your text said, “And that was on hell of a weird text?!” I laughed and blushed like I never did before! And we started texting…

It was hilarious, what we had. It was strange. You were not really a friend, not quite a brother, not even a lover… I didn’t know in what category I should list you down in; you were just The Random Guy. We talked about it, over and over again, and so, I was too just The Random Girl.

Days passed, chemistry developed, feelings grew. We had a “thing”.

What I liked about us is that we didn’t know our names for a pretty long while, so you called me Jessica, and I called you Alfredo. I was your Jessy and you were my Al. Even when it happened that we knew each other’s name, it was weird; so we just kept calling ourselves by our nicknames.

I don’t know… We didn’t love each other, but it was just wrong if we don’t text for 5 minutes. I worry. You worry. And we actually argue about why not texting and updating! It was nice… I loved it.

On the 21^st of October, my birthday, you wished me a happy birthday at dawn, and disappeared for the rest of the day. I texted you. I called you. I mailed you. I had no reply whatsoever. Until my phone beeped. I jumped from my place and you have no idea how the adrenaline rush I had made me shiver, my tummy twisted! I opened the message and it said, “Who is this?”.

I just could not overcome my shock. Your cousin told me you left the country to study, left to Australia… He told me you left for good.

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. Whether to delete the message and sleep, or still have hope that you might text again. You told me everything, Al. You told me about your past, your shameful background, your migraine, where you go, when you go, HOW you go and with whom! Why was this most important single detail so hard to tell me? I would have understood! It’s your studies! Even if I asked you not to leave, you would have anyway! But you would’ve at least told me!!

You talked to me about how much you tried to vanish from your old world, start a new one, a new life, a new style of living, and just leave the past behind… Bravo, you vanished. You know what’s funny though? That I, not even for a split of a second, thought that you would consider me a part of “your past”.

I don’t know why I haven’t wrote this the minute I met you, but I just received a text from you, saying how much you miss the old days… Well, guess what? I’ve put them right behind my shoulder.

How very déclassé... Thanks for the lesson.

Eternally grateful,

Jessy.