Your door

It’s Saturday night. I know you’d be here soon. You’ve never missed coming home every weekend. As usual, I’m again in front of my PC, waiting for you in disguise of writing this article.

I listen for the now familiar signs that announce your arrival—the way you open the gate and the sound of your keys as they dangle in your hand and of your footsteps as you cross the living room, making your way up the stairs to your room.

The scene that follows is one that happens week after week after week. I’d turn my head toward you as you make your final step up the stairs, then you’d pause, we’d smile and greet each other, then you’d reach for the door to your room, let yourself in, then shut it at my face.

I’d stare at the closed door, hating and cursing it for being there to shield you from me, for not being the kind of door that opens to present opportunities and invite people in, and for being the unbearable witness to my anguish as it mercilessly shuts itself after you pass through it without me.

Then I’d get on with my writing, waiting for that damn door to open and give me at least another glimpse of you before I finally call it a night. But seldom has it listened to my pleas. It is like a prison wall, except that I, the prisoner, am shut out.

And tonight, I don’t see it as anything different.

I busy my hands with the computer keys, trying to come up with an article for the magazine I work for. But occasionally I’d catch my thoughts drifting toward you and it is a real effort to drag them back to the subject I am writing. I need to finish this article.

But why aren’t you here yet? It’s already an hour past the time you usually arrive. Where are you? Have you possibly met up with someone? Damn!

Another thirty minutes passed. I didn’t hear any sound, but now you are already walking up the stairs (I must have really gotten engrossed with my typing). I looked up and greeted you with that practiced smile—the kind that exudes warmth but hides deeper emotions, lest you’d find out how I really feel for you. You smiled back, but not the kind of smile you’d given me all these years. There’s something peculiar about the way you were looking at me. I couldn’t figure what it was, but you looked at me as though it was the first time you’ve seen me. Your gaze was so intense I was thinking maybe you thought I was a ghost, or someone from out of this world. And, instead of reaching for your door, you walked straight toward me. I felt my heart do some silly flip-flopping and my whole being trembled.

I didn’t remove my gaze from yours, not even when you reached for my hand and gently tugged me to stand. My legs had turned to jelly and I was more than willing to be in your arms. I’ve waited forever for this to happen; there’s no chickening out now.

I saw your face moving closer and your lips descending to mine. I didn’t have any thoughts of resisting; only anticipation for that moment when our lips finally touch. And when they did, everything else faded.

The kiss might have lasted only for a few minutes, possibly seconds, but the contact was enough to set my body ablaze. Then, I looked up and met your eyes, ready to confess how I felt for you.

But, as I opened my mouth to speak, I heard movements on the stairs, and there you were, making your way up to your room.

Damn! I’ve done it again. My writing had gotten the better of me again, swallowing me whole into this make-believe scene I’ve often played in my mind that oftentimes became too vivid and seemingly real, I get lost in it. Like I did tonight.

But of course, like a good actress, I managed to quickly regain my composure. Never would I let you know how, just moments ago, I had been shamelessly imagining kissing you. So when you smiled and started teasing me, I was cool enough to tease you back, until you inevitably reached for your door, closing it behind you after saying goodnight. Again, I stared helplessly at the faceless, cruel monster that hides you from me, as though it was its fault that I couldn’t get through you.

When will you stop seeing me as the younger sister you never had? Ah, the door that’s literally next to mine is as far as Mars is to Earth.

If only you’d open your heart for me.


[seb/feb2004]