Afternoon

A week had passed since Asher’s father had died. He died in the afternoon, shortly after having lunch. The neighbors were the first to find him. They went to check on him when he didn’t show up to their weekly game night. When they found him, he was lying in bed, under the blanket. Initially, they thought he was asleep. However, when he didn’t respond to their efforts to wake him up, they called an ambulance.

Asher reached as soon as he could. He tried reaching his elder brother Aaron, but he wouldn’t pick up. Asher had to take care of everything alone. He wished his mother was there with him, but he didn’t want to inform her. His parents had been separated for a long time now. All his efforts to bring them together had failed. He didn’t want to burden her with this, at least for now.

Asher was preparing to leave. He told the neighbors he was falling behind on work. In reality, he wasn’t worried about work. He had been working remotely the whole time. Instead, the problem was the house. Now that his father was gone, he didn’t want to be in there anymore. He decided to take whatever mattered and leave. He started going through his father’s belongings. Phone, clothes, books, documents, laptop, money, keys, photos, etc. Asher made sure he wasn’t missing anything as he didn’t want to come back to this house. He looked thoroughly through all the closets. He was almost done when something caught his eye. A diary.

Asher would often read his father’s diary in secret as a young boy, but he hadn’t seen this diary since his parents had left each other. Asher immediately opened the diary and started glancing through it. Soon, he realized, his father hadn’t made an entry ever since the day his parents separated. Asher was about to keep the diary down when he noticed a page sticking out. The page didn’t look like the ones in the diary, so he pulled it out. It was his father’s handwriting. There was no date on the page, but by looking at it Asher could understand that this note was written not too long ago.

He began reading.

———

I keep reminiscing about those moments we spent. I can see the happiness we once had. It looks so heartwarming. Us sitting at the back of the car, hand in hand, sitting right next to each other while leaving enough space to fit 3 more people beside us. The afternoons. We used to go out a lot during the afternoons. Her face keeps flashing in front of my eyes. With her, I was a different version of myself. A version of me I wanted to be like. For some reason, being next to her made me more confident. Having always been an introvert, it felt weird when I suddenly could order food without taking any awkward pauses. With her around, it felt like I was the main character of my life for once.

The movies we watched, the restaurants we visited, the parks we strolled through, the clubs we got drunk at, etc. I keep thinking about those moments and I look back. I’ll admit that I look back at them with a feeling of delight, but I don’t feel love. I mean, I still feel something, but it’s not exactly love. In fact, I feel more for those moments than I do about her now. Maybe that’s the thing. Once those moments stopped, the love started to fade away.

Wait wait wait. What am I saying? She used to doubt me like a maniac. For no reason. Well, sometimes for good reason, but most of the time it was without a reason. That’s what caused the downfall of the relationship. She made me give up, the man who didn’t give up even after she cheated on me. To this day I’m scarred from within because of what she did. I always thought it was funny how first she cheated on me and then started doubting me. Sometimes it seemed like she wanted me to mess up. That way she could finally have the chance to say something to me.

No. I don’t want to speak about her this way. I’m not sure why, but I don’t like depicting her in a negative light. Even when I hear somebody say something bad about her, it causes me to go back and forth with that person. I end up defending her. I’m not sure what this feeling is. One may say it’s love, but I know what love feels like to me. This isn’t love.

I haven’t talked to her for a while now. I meet the kids regularly and sometimes hear about her, but I haven’t met them for months now. Thanks to the pandemic. Sometimes we’ll talk on call, but I try to avoid asking questions about her. Luckily, the younger one, Asher, sporadically provides me with updates. Last I heard, she was back home staying with her parents.

I miss that house sometimes. I used to go there a lot when we were younger. For years, before our first child, Aaron, I had spent many afternoons in that house. Her family was always kind to me. Her mom and grandmother would always make my favorite food when they heard I was visiting. It was funny sometimes how she would get jealous because of all the attention her family gave me. She would simply grab my hand and take me to her room and when she couldn’t, she would stand near the door, frustrated, waiting for me. I would quickly get up and walk towards her room while her mother(and sometimes her grandmother) would giggle along with me. We would be locked inside her room for hours during those afternoons. These days when I sit down after lunch, I think about those moments we spent. I think I loved her the most during those afternoons. There was something tranquil, yet not as haunting as the night. We would look into each other’s eyes as we laid in bed and would forget the world around us existed.

I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Bringing up old memories to get through my mundane present? I need to get over it. Asher asked me a few days ago if I still wanted to get back to her. I could understand the desire of a child to see their parents together. However, Asher’s old enough now to face reality. I told him no. I told him I am not inclined towards getting back.

Truth be told, she isn’t who she used to be. Towards the end of our relationship, she would often raise questions about my character. I used to feel hurt, deeply. After all these years, after all we had gone through, she still had doubts. When I talked to her about how I felt about these things she started doing the extreme opposite. She started coming off as though she didn’t care about anything I did. I wasn’t sure how to deal with this constantly fluctuating behavior. Our fights kept increasing. It got worse and worse. I would lose my temper, she would lose hers, and things just kept falling apart.

If someone asked me if I held on for longer than I should have then I would probably say yes. The reason was that I thought we were endgame. I thought we were lucky to find each other. We got through school, college, had our two kids - Aaron and Asher. Even when we set life goals it always involved us being together. I tried so hard and I know she did too.

I met her once after we ended our relationship. She looked just as good as the day I met her. Both of us had tears in our eyes. We hugged and we almost kissed. We didn’t. Instead, we hugged once more. At that moment, we almost got back together. However, for whatever reason, we didn’t.

Soon after, I left the country, and she left the city. Nobody knew about our little meeting until recently when I told Asher. Sometimes, it’s hard not to share your thoughts. Being the elder one, Aaron used to be the silent listener. Now, we barely talk. I guess that’s why Asher took over.

Anyway, I should get going. Still haven’t had my lunch.

———

Asher wiped the tears his eyes had shed while reading. He tried calling Aaron, but he didn’t pick up. He looked out the window as the afternoon rays of daylight fell over the bed. For the first time, Asher sat on the bed his father had died on. After a moment of thinking to himself, he picked up his phone and dialed his mother’s number. Out of panic, he immediately disconnected. Somehow, he mustered up the courage to dial her number again and this time the phone rang. Asher sat anxiously with the phone next to his ears, listening to the ringing tone. The ringing just didn’t end.