The Firefly Manoeuvre

If he looked back far enough, he saw a benign friendship developing. She promised jovial company, and an enthusiastic intellect for his starved mind. He wanted those, found her intensely stimulating in conversation, and knew he liked her in an instant. So what if she claimed to be a woman from another dimension and they happened to meet through a break in time that revealed itself through the seasoned teak table of a coffee shop? So what if the only way they could communicate was through those words and verses and carvings? So what if they could never meet in a quaint sylvan place where they could feel, touch, and hear each other like regular lovers did? So what if he was in love again? So what?

Time went swiftly by yet when they did meet it always felt like no time had passed. He found her surprising. Surprising not because of her vivacious and outgoing spirit; but because he wouldn't, even in his unnaturally wild imagination, think of her joining him in a random escapade; an escapade that might lead them beyond that alternative, nameless dimension. Yet, here he stood, wondering if she was serious in asking him out… she did, he went, and the rest… had to happen.

He gazed at her with all the tenderness he could muster… she quickly looked away… he looked again with pleading eyes… “Don’t fall in love” she said candidly, he gasped, softened his gaze and responded “I already have. I can comfortably say that I love you. You have given me the rock I can anchor our relationship on. “Can I just say thank you and leave it at that? I don’t think I'm ready – I'm not clear in my head, I don’t know…” she fluttered. “Shhh… -I love you not as in I want to make love to you types. This is I Love You in the way only you and I understand.
I say I love you, when I believe I've met a mirror, of certain key aspects of my life. I don’t know where we’re headed given the certainty that this is bound to head a direction which has such unnerving pitfalls, but I simply can’t not say it or feel it” “physical, platonic, childish whatever … I’m just not sure. There’s a lot of fear and fear is not good for life” she said, rather meekly.

There they sat, two people helplessly imprisoned by time and circumstances and dimensions. They belonged to two alternate dimensions. Why they met and how, is the last thing to worry about. They met, they laughed together, they pondered about the paradoxes of life with the same lens and now they were in love. If the sheet that separated them was anything tangible, it could be torn apart and they could ride into the horizon together – but the sheet that separated them was time – lifetime itself. She was a musician and he – a teacher, and both of them carried the burden of doing, saying and standing up for the right thing – but was this fantastic fable right? Was this sojourn practical? Is this something they can explain to those that look up to them?

It was the day that they were about to meet and as he sat waiting for her at their coffee bench and wrote to her he wondered: “What kind of painter wakes up before dawn, and creates a masterpiece, knowing that s/he will have to rend the canvas before dusk?” “The kind of painter who is passionate and paints for the sake of painting – not worried about closure, fame or possession” came her reply. He couldn't counter that argument – not that he wanted to.

It was painful not to be able to be in touch with him as often as she would have liked to, what with the need for a solitary place and the specific breaks in time to all come together… when she couldn't take the pining any more she would leave random things on the coffee table or messages on paper napkins to indicate she wanted to talk to him. It was very unlikely that he would find these yet she wrote what she had to. She didn't know what was more painful – being away from him or the impossibility of this relationship.

“Why are we doing this to ourselves?” she asked him as he held her with one hand and drove the car with the other. “Doing what?” he asked. “I mean look at us, we know this is impossible, we know this is headed for a fall yet… what is it that you want from me? What is it that you seek? Say what you have to honestly.” she said in a pleading voice. He pulled over, drew her close to him and in a gentle and earnest tone he said “Conversations! This is what I want – this is all I want. In fact, just being able to hold you, with no burdens or shackles, lose myself with you and in you, exist without the physical realm, share dreams and live them with you for as long or short as the ethereal selves allow, that alone would be the ultimate. But if it was just to remain as conversations – I would consider myself lucky”.

I HATE REALITY