Her one message and my waiting heart

A week passed, and we are still on the road, at the same spot. She is somewhere far at an end of the road and me, here at this end. Not moved even an inch.

“I miss you very much” and “miss u 2” were the farthest we could go. Only difference I made (I wish I knew hers) is that now, I can even start the chat with “I miss you very much”.

I still haven’t figured out how she misses me. It somehow dawned upon me that all I have to care about was to be true to my frantic heart, expect less and be ready for any response.

But still I want to know, know how she misses me.

It’s lunch time. I am with my lunch in the dining hall, heading towards the door as to go into my room. My roommate Dawa snaps, “Hey, why don’t you stay here in the hall and eat with us?”

My tan cheeks blush, I feel the heat. “Lately, I didn’t feel like to eat here.” I know it is the lamest of excuse but still I had to cling on. Man, I was not this timid before.

Coz you are not telling them the truth.

Yes, I am not telling the truth, even to three roommates. It feels stupid to share to them though I sincerely miss her. Since the next day after I confessed that I missed her, I spent all my time before my laptop; expecting her to come online or if she don’t come, hold her as close as possible by watching her photos.

So, it has been a week I have been dining in my room, alone but just to the biological eyes.

I quickly keep my lunch beside my laptop. I switch on the laptop and as the window boots, anxiety builds inside.

You still haven't grown up.

But I feel proud to have this feeling; a feeling of fresh crush, a desire to fight any battle and win her heart. 

I eat a mouthful and then log into Facebook. I directly type Boom Helen in the search bar and go to her wall.

Her latest wall post says “Sick n bedridden, missing hom”.

My heart gets cold.

I click on the post and read the comments. No revelation of her sickness, only hundreds of ‘take care’s’. She has just commented three ‘thankq’s’, but no further info.

Hey, do something.

My Helen (She isn’t yours yet) is sick and I cannot stay like this. What should I do? I know that no one here in the institute knows about her, so no hope from them. No means comes to my mind. I feel helpless and worthless.

Think of something. Faster.

Ah, my heart pumps harder. Nothing comes in mind. I frantically scratch my head with both hands like the nails would sink deep into the head. I think harder. Commenting can be an option . . .

But she is sick, man!

Irritated, I abruptly stand up. My cup filled with dhal topples down from the table. It jerks me back to sanity. But I leave the spilt dhal unattended. I just sink back to chair with a more serene mind. If only I could make a call to her. Yes! A call.

Yes! Make a call.

But again I come to a sudden halt. From where shall I get her mobile number?

I go to her profile, click the About tab and scroll down. Lucky enough, here below in a right side is her mobile number. I let out a sigh of release.

I take out my mobile phone out of my gho and type the number. Then I dial it. My courage suddenly runs out and after the first ring, I cut the call.

She received a missed-call!

Useless admirer.

In the new blank message, I type: “Hi, Jigme here. Would like to say that you will be alright sooner than you can think. Take care.”

I watch my thumb bending towards the Send button.

Leave it. Hey coward, leave it.

This uneasiness and feeling of distrust with this messaging rule my mind and I renounce the action.

I stand up and lean against my cupboard.

I press on the Call button and bring the phone to my left ear. It rings. And my heart beats louder. Her b-tune ‘Dharey Dentha mepai’ does not calm my nervousness.

And …

She doesn’t pick my phone. That’s ok, mine is new number.

I dial her number once again and . . . she again does not pick up the phone.

I sit down heavily on my chair and bit my lips as I stare at her phone number. Watching the phone, I dial the number and turn on the loudspeaker. I don’t wink a second. My heart beat deafens my ear. Then again “No answer”.

I slam the phone on my notebook and then walk out of the room. But my mind won’t leave by the side of my phone.

The night falls swiftly but sleep doesn’t. I am awake till 1:00am.

It's another day, and I rise with the sunrays dancing a welcome dance on my phone; it’s still on the book. I see a white patch on my screen.

I jump out of my bed.

It’s a message from “Boom Helen”.

In a second, I unlock and open the message:

“sory Jime, i cudnt pick the fon. i was not wel. cal me 2day, i m bit ok now”

She knew my number! And she wants me to call her!

I kiss the phone and immediately dial her number. 

***     ***     ***

Want to visit previous chapters of this story?

Chapter 1:     Indeed I am surprised at myself!

Chapter 2:     I don't want to chat with her!

Chapter 3:     "I miss you". Yes, I say it to her

ILiveLove