The bench in the park

She felt a tinge of sadness as she disconnected her mobile phone. She went about her work in the bookstore without showing too much of how she was really feeling. On the bus ride back home in the evening, she leaned on the glass pane of the window seat and it came back to her again. Somehow throughout the whole day she had managed to keep her feelings at bay because of her work. Now, alone, on her way back home, it all kept coming back to her.

She was really looking forward to their visit. She had planned a lovely time with them when they came over and had also got her leave sanctioned for a week. And then this morning her sister told her about their plans for a trip abroad during the holidays. She missed having a family and her sister and her family was the only one she had. More than her sister and her husband she missed the kids. Whenever they came over, she would spend hours with them. Taking them to her book shop and letting them play there, taking them out for ice creams and pastries, movies and picnics. She felt alive when she was with them.

The phone call had suddenly downed her mood.

She took a half-eaten sandwich from the fridge and had it along with her espresso, absent-mindedly sitting on the empty dining table. After her frugal dinner, she sat with her John Donne for a while before settling in her quilt. Her eyes remained open for a long time that night after the lights were shut off.

She woke up at her usual time the next morning and went for her jog. As always, Carole King played on her earphones as she went past the usual faces in the park, before settling down on her bench. She sipped on her fresh-lime water from her sipper, when suddenly she saw him. At first she could not place him, but on closer look she realized, it was him… after so many years. She was seeing him after over two decades.

Memories flashed across, from the time she saw him. She remembered some of her happier days in life, her college days and those carefree days of freedom. There was so much to look forward to in life back in those days, she smiled throughout the day, even when she was at work. She wished she had gone up to him and spoken, but then again that was just not her. She hesitated, wondering if he would even remember her or not. Despite fact that they were close once upon a time, she wasn’t sure whether he still thought of her or not. But she felt an unknown surge of happiness that whole day.

She kept thinking of him that night, as she devoured her Chinese take away and even whilst reading her customary Donne at night, she found her mind wandering off to his thoughts. She wondered if it had been a one-off or whether she would see him again the next day.

 She had rarely jogged with as much enthusiasm and hope as she did the next morning. She looked at each and every face that crossed her in the park just to spot him. But he wasn’t there amongst the people who crossed her while she was jogging. But as she went and sat on her bench she found him sitting on the bench close by. Exactly on the same spot where she had seen him yesterday. She felt a sense of relief mixed with happiness as she stared at him. He had aged but gracefully so. His wavy hair had thinned considerably, his sideburns had generous grey in them, giving him that distinguished look. His light blue eyes still seemed as deep and penetrative as they seemed to her in their younger days. He was as lanky as he was before, although she suspected he had developed a slight paunch with age. She found that cute. She felt embarrassed as she realized she smiling to herself as she shamelessly stared at him.

The next few days seemed to follow one another exactly in the same routine. Every morning she saw him and felt happy enough to have a smile plastered on her face the whole day, but never confident enough to step up to him and meet him like the old friend he was. Somehow she felt happy in this little set-up fate had created for her. Just seeing him every morning, felt good enough for her. She found herself humming on the bus, most evenings. She slept better too.

It was a Sunday that morning, and she usually didn’t go for a jog on that day. But for whatever reasons on that particular day, she went. To her disappointment, she didn’t see him there. She felt sad at not seeing him there but then rationalized to herself that maybe like her, he too came to the park only on weekdays. And hopefully she would see him the next day. But then on Monday she didn’t see him. She waited a little longer than usual on her bench, just in case he was late, but there was no sign of him. A young couple came and sat on bench after a while, much to her irritation. She wished they would go away leaving the bench vacant for him to come and sit. But they sat there holding hands and cuddling up, much to her annoyance.

She did not see him the next couple of days.

Her mood which had been significantly lifted for over a week now, felt crushed all over again. She seemed unmindful at work and the whole day felt like a drag. She kept wondering what could have happened to him. Maybe he was in town for a little while and had gone back to where he came from, she wondered to herself sadly. She regretted at not going up to him and speaking. She would have felt bad had he not recognised her, but surely not as bad as she was feeling now. Despite not going up to him and talking, she felt a lot less lonely ever since had spotted him on that park bench, regularly seeing him since then. Her loneliness engulfed all over again now. Days were a drag and the evenings felt more miserable, as she ate her dinner and read for a bit before having long sleepless hours at night.

She went to the park the next day and jogged like always. The faces were a blur to her again like before. The bench next to hers was vacant as it used to be, before thjose few days when she felt sunshine and happiness. She sipped on her lime water and was about to get up when her mobile phone buzzed. She picked it up to read a short message, from an unknown number:

It took me a while to get hold of your number. Wonder if you remember me after all these years. If you do, turn around and look…

She kept staring at her handset, as her hands trembled ever so slightly. She kept looking at the message, transfixed. She did not know whether she should turn around or not. After what seemed like ages, she turned around…

Copyright (c) Pratik Majumdar, 2020. Any article, story, write-up cannot be reproduced in its entirety or in part, without permission. URL links can be used instead.

Published by Patmaj

Hi this is me, Pratik. I love to read, write, listen to music, watch movies, travel and enjoy great food. Like a whole lot of us I guess. Will keep posting my short stories and other writings out here on a regular basis (hopefully) and (hopefully again) all of you will enjoy them writings...

4 thoughts on “The bench in the park

Leave a reply to Patmaj Cancel reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.