Chapter 26

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Days turned into weeks, and the weeks snowballed into months. And within this time, I have very little from Damia. What I do hear from her are things I don’t want to hear; ‘K’, ‘Thx’ and worst of all, ‘I wanna be alone for now.’

No amount of sighing or wallowing in self pity is going to fix all that. I truly have run out of things to do. There are no flowers, or messages, or attempts at romance that seem to be working. But I refuse to give up, because I know, I fucking know, that she loves me. And as long as I believe in that, I will not stop.

Nissa thinks otherwise, of course. “You should though, Dhani,”  she told me one day over lunch. “This isn’t doing you any good. Please don’t be that guy.”

“What guy?” I asked, more defensively than I intented.

Nissa flung her hands up. “This! Moping, sullen. It’s not you. The Dhani I know is confident and sassy and smart, and takes care of himself.”

“Maybe I’m not that Dhani anymore, then,” I said.

“No. You still are. You just need to get out of this… this rut, you’re in. Come on. Bunga bukan sekuntum.”

I knew that. But it doesn’t change the fact that Damia is the only bunga I want right now.

If only she would say something, at least.

On Saturday I woke up groggily to see the sun was already up and getting hot; a quick glance at my bedside clock showed it to be almost noon, and apparently I had slept through the alarm. Not for the first time in recent times, either. This is so unlike me. I used to spend my Saturdays up and ready by the break of dawn, with a girl (or two) by my side. I’d wake up, look at that nude body next to me and either wake her up so I can send her home, or giving her a good-morning-fuck as a ‘thank you’ before sending her home. Then I would shower, go for a jog or a swim, or hit the gym to work out a little before running some chores or shopping. Then when the day gave in to night I would be out hunting again, ready for the next pussy to bring home and let my lust take over.

But for the past few months, while I pitifully wallowed in this maudlin coccoon, I have been waking up late, never before sunrise and many times after 12pm or 1pm. I’d spend half an hour in bed playing with my phone, trying to get to Damia, then I’d shower, eat something I’m actually too lazy to prepare, then take another nap. When night comes I ride or drive around aimlessly in Kuala Lumpur, stopping by bars for one drink too many, and I’d stare at all the stupidfucking young couples who walk hand in hand, so clearly in love. I felt this profound disdain for them and their happy lives. A malevolent, pregnant sort of envy would fill my heart and I find myself inwardly cursing these people: WhythefuckareyousohappywhileI’msittingherewishingIwaswiththegirlofmydreamsyoufuckingidiots… and it goes on. Then I’d just go back, and sleep. I wouldn’t even be in the mood to jerk off, because even when I tr, instead of thinking about some unlikely sexy situation, I’d end up thinking about Damia, and start to wonder what it’s like to be hers, and to be with her, and what would her breasts taste like and what would she feel like down there if I were to touch her, and to have sex with her, and that’d make me feel so ashamed I’d just lose the mood and fall asleep instead.

So it was this morning. I rubbed the gum out of my eyes and stretched, trying to smooth out the kinks in my joints. I checked my phone and there was one message. From Damia. I fumbled and dropped the phone, cursing loudly.

Dhani, the message said. I checked the time and it showed the message was sent about 10am, a couple of hours ago. Should I call her? After deliberation, I decided not to. I needed to play it cool, even if inside, my heart was racing like mad.

Damia, was all I replied. My hands felt clammy and a knot formed in my stomach. Soon, she replied.

Can I see you? She said. We need to talk.

I was overjoyed, but cautious. Perhaps she’s come to her senses and ready to be with me again? I sure hoped so. But I needed to be careful and not show her how desperate I was to see her.

Of course. Where and when?

Bzzt. KLCC. 3pm. Where we used to meet. Is that alrite? I’ll drive myself.

I took this as a good sign. Where we used to meet. Surely that’s a good sign? A good place to rekindle a romance. I replied yes to her and immediately showered and shaved afresh. I dressed in this light blue shirt she had given me, and a pair of white jeans with white sneakers. I decided to ride my bike over, and reached that bench overlooking the fountain at KLCC park two hours earlier than the agreed time. I decided to buy her a bouquet of flowers (lame) and just wait. I needed to gather my thoughts and contain my eagerness.

A couple of hours later I saw her walking towards me. She was in a light olive green hijab, as usual wrapped artfully around her head neck, and a pretty long sleeved white blouse matched to a wide green belt with an oversized buckle and black jeans. She looked tall and splendid. As she came up to me I saw the black camisole she wore beneath the blouse, and the turqouise straps of her bra. She looked pale, and, like me, seemed to have lost some weight. Her lips were pale pink, but the swirly greys of her eyes were as beautiful as ever. I cannot fathom how I have gone by a few months not seeing her. I felt a pang of hurt when I realized I missed her so much.

I handed her the bouquet of flowers, sheepishly. I tried to smile but it came out as a grimace instead.

“Thank you, Dhani,” she said, in that husky, sexy voice I had come to know and love. She took it, but seemed very indifferent. I couldn’t tell her emotions, as she avoided looking at me directly in the eye.

There was this silence between us that I found not settling at all. I could almost feel the ambient temperature surrounding us drop a few degrees. It was so unlike… unlike, before, when we were happier. Back then, I’d feel warm and loved the moment I saw her face, let alone when we linked hands or when she’d put her head on my shoulder. Now it’s like an invisible forcefield (I have no other way of saying this) has enveloped her and prevented the love she has (I know she has!) from reaching me.

“How have you been, Sa--, I mean, Damia?” I asked, trying to start a conversation. The words seemed to stutter and stumble from my mouth.

“Okay. I’ve been okay. Let’s take a seat, please,” she said and sat down on the bench. I watched to my dismay as she just placed the bouquet I gave her on the bench, without really caring for it. I dropped myself beside her, close, but she coolly shuffled away. Another pang of hurt struck my heart.

“Alright,” I said, clasping my hands together. People passed us by; families, groups of friends and couples, all strolling around the park on a balmy Saturday afternoon. What did they see when they looked at us? A couple, fighting? A couple, in love? I had no way of telling, because, truthfully, I had no idea what we were too.

“I missed you Damia,” I said, not able to hold it in anymore. “So much.” I tried to touch her hand but she pulled away, albeit hesitantly. My heart sank, again.

“I know, Dhani,” she said. Another awkward silence.

“We used to come here a lot, right?” I said, motioning to the park. “After work, you and me. We’d come here with drinks and snacks and just… be with each other.”

Damia sat quiet. She seemed to be furiously thinking about something; but she said not a word. She just sort of just clammed up, and refused to speak anything. She wouldn’t even look my way.

“Damia,” I said. “Please. I thought you said we needed to talk. But you’re not even looking my way.”

This time she turned to me. Her grey eyes were rimmed with tears, but through some force of will, they didn’t fall. I didn’t know what to make of it; did she miss me, hate me, was angry at me?

“Damia, come on. Talk. I’ll even stop the whole ‘I miss’ thing if you would just talk.”

She seemed to consider this, and bit her lip. She turned herself to face me, her small hands fiddling with the edge of her blouse.

“Dhani,” she started. “I am sorry for everything that has happened in the past few months. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

This was good, I thought. I let her go on.

“And I also want you to know,” she said, “that I forgive you for everything as well. We’re human, Dhani, we make mistakes. I make mistakes.”

I nodded, encouraging her. Maybe my hopes were not in vain. My heart was pounding like a hammer on anvil.

“These past few months, I’ve been doing just that: going over mistakes. Thinking about them. About why I made them, why it happened. And I have come to understand that I couldn’t run away from them. They’re done, and whatever has happened today, to me, you, to us, is a direct result of those past mistakes.”

I couldn’t tell where this was going. But I let her speak, if only just because this is the first time in months she’s actually speaking to me.

“What I can do with my life—no, with our lives, is to not repeat those mistakes. Do you understand me, Dhani?” This time she held my hands, and the touch of her skin on mine was pure ecstacy to me. I savored the way her tiny, slim fingers slipped so easily between mine. Maybe this was going somewhere good. God I hope it’s going somewhere good. From what she’s said, I was beginning to believe she wanted a fresh start for both of us. And for a split-second I saw myself changing for her; becoming a better man, a better human being, for her sake. For our sakes. That’s what she said, right? Our lives. I began to feel the fire of hope rekindle inside me. Damia was looking into my eyes, and as ever, I drowned in hers.

“I understand, Damia,” I said, and brought up her hands to my lips to kiss them. But she pulled away.

She pulled away.

“Dhani, I no longer want to repeat my mistakes,” she said, and brought her hands to her heart. This time, tears did fall down. “And this is why I came here, to see you, to tell you, that I cannot be with you, Dhani. I cannot. I cannot un-learn what I’ve learned about you, and even if I forgive it, I cannot forget it, and it gnaws at me so much. You were a mistake, Dhani. A beautiful mistake, and one I don’t want to bear the rest of my life. And I’m moving on Dhani. I came here to say goodbye.”

I was too stunned, too shocked to hear all this. Too shocked to even say a word. I could almost see my walls come crumbling down, burning down and falling into ashes. I just sat there, my mouth slightly agape, and looked at her.

But she wasn’t done.

“I am getting married, Dhani. To a man, the son of my father’s friend, whom I’ve known for quite some time since we were little. They came over to merisik a month ago, and my family accepted. I accepted.”

The pain was blinding, crushing. It was all I could feel.

Pain.

*