Written By P.N.
“Just tell us when to kiss. Am I posing right?”
Jane’s voice came to my ears from a distance that was not all that far away, but still far enough to enhance this setting feeling I had all along. It seemed as though we were standing in the middle of a set, shooting the undying “happily ever after” scene. Jane and her groom, still expecting directions from the photographer, had frozen their smiles in an attempt to freeze time. These minutes that lingered upon bridal lips would signify the immortality of the scene. How can something that has not even started yet entail such prosperity of eternal life? What is it that dictates its lack of mortality? I guess that not all deaths are the same and those who die, if you care enough to hear them, actually tell their story. Most of the times that dictates their end.
However, the God that takes them does not care about stories. He cares about the truth. That is why they ultimately change from their initial form. Some deaths are real some are not. It depends on how much truth the others around you can handle. If they cannot, then you know you haven’t died for nothing.
The true version of a story is also the short one. Sometimes it is only a word. In its expression, whether short or long, you may meet yourself, you may meet who you want to be, you may meet others, you may meet their projection on you; but you may even meet something scarier than everything: yesterday.
I have lived all of their stories. I have taken place in all their special occassions. I have enrolled in all their activities. I have applauded, dressed formally, exchanged gestures, drank expensive wine and danced with all of them. All I ever wished was one day I will not have the time to do it anymore. Be so busy living an occassion of my own that they would eventually forget that they have to invite me. But this day does not seem to come. Maybe it had no important story to bring and it died herself on the way to reach me. Or maybe it carried something so significant for me and the world that it could not bear the heavy important message anymore. It outlived her, since it could not live outside her.
My memory abides on the first time I realized the feeling I want to have when it comes. I have so much lived and crafted it in my existence that it ended up inhabiting within me. Inhabiting me. And although, it has almost faded because of the longing of that never coming day I still believe this is my one and only match.
Probably like Jane thinks of Mark, amidst their anticipated kiss. I was asked to escort them to their bridal photoshoot since Jane considers me a ‘role model of aesthetics’. I simply answered that I should not be anyone’s role model since I have decorated my space so tastelessly waiting for a day that has decided not to come, thinking that nothing else will fit better. She looked me in the eyes, certain that my literary background could not get the grips with reality again and said: ‘Come on, no matter what, we still have today, so help pick the right china for dinner”. And so I did. After all, I had all the time that was not stolen by long awaited day.
I was still on the same comfortable white leather couch, helping Jane to pick the right photos for her album. Her eyes were almost wet with joy. Maybe because I was there in her big moment. Maybe because she could discern in mine that only my body was there. While sipping coffee and flicking through other albums for more ideas, I was expecting miracles, rocket missiles to hit the window and their flames to reveal a new world, ruled by Sunday nights’ unidentifiable flying emotions, or even better, a clown to pump out of the ceiling and assure me that all this was always a joke. Then, grab my hand and bring me back to the real life. My version of real life. My life.
Still, I could not help but wonder whether I am waiting for St. Peter to hand me my number saying that it’s up, or the day that I will finally have the strenght to denounce this anticpation of me.
While Jane was showing to Mark the photos we had choosen, Sunday’s feelings confirmed I was waiting the day to be born.