****
Before
I got several pictures in my shaking hands. I did not know why my hands were shaking when I held them close. Maybe because I was now living my dream, at least partially. I watched how the grey clouds hung upon the afternoon sky--made the situation even more dramatic that it already was. I put those pictures back on my bag, did not want them got ruined because of my stupid lonely tears.
Yes, a girl waited for her bus in the airport, ready to realize her dream but she cried nevertheless. How stupid that sounded? A broken heart made her dumb I guessed.
"I hated Paris..." he said while playing with bunch of printed pictures in his hands. He liked photography so much, he spent almost his whole life to document life, including my dream city: Paris. Yes, like any other girls or maybe even boys, I loved Paris. Oh come on, who did not like Eiffel Tower? And the romantic atmosphere? At least that was what they advertised about this city.
"Well, I couldn't really comment on that. I've never been there myself, but I think I would liked that city." I shrugged his comment away.
"Umm no, I think you do not just like it--you love it! I can see it in your eyes. You like it so much that you make Paris as one of your must-visit places. Right?" He teased me merciless, as usual.
Blushing, he caught me there. I looked at him curious, how could he know? I voiced my question out loud. Not that it was vital since he could read my mind almost every single time.
"Because your eyes lite up like Christmas tree when I said that I wanted to show you pictures of France..."
"Did I?!"
"Yep, you did!" He laughed and touched my nose. I tried to act cool by smiling over the small the gesture while in fact, he took my breath away and made my heart beat strangely.
"Today, I would show you pictures of Paris but one day, I will be the one who take you there. Consider it as a kind gesture since you cannot speak even a word of French. Such a shame!"
I rolled my eyes at him, there was no guidelines in this whole wide world for us to speak five different languages like him. Oh him and traveling! I did not even want to try to question why he could speak so many languages.
"Now let's start with the gate of France... Charles De Gaulle..."
As the bus passed upon the small Air France aircraft, I could not help but matched the photograph he took with the actual view until it went away. The first of many pictures that I would like to match--between the reality and the dream he created in those printed images. As sad as it might sound, through the picture I felt that he guided me to live my dream even without him in it.
****
I kept the best for the last. That was exactly my thought when I stepped out from the metro in Bir-Hakeim station. It was 9 o'clock in the evening, but there were still a lot of people there. I tucked my sling bag carefully, did not want to attract any pick-pocket. I did not know what I felt at that time when I walked through Quai Branly. I realized the excitement of Paris had long gone but I guessed it did not stop me to living this partly broken dream.
We sat in a private corner of the unfamiliar restaurant with a glass of Rose in front of us. He did not like Rose, but he ordered us a bottle of it nonetheless. Simply because he knew that I liked it so much. I did not usually drink a lot of wine but today I needed the comfort of it. I knew it was a bad choice of encouragement, but I needed alcohol to make me brave and he did make me nervous, something that he never did before.
Synchronized with the heavy rain outside, I could feel the gloom loomed over us like a thick unwanted blanket. I watched him carefully, despite of the odd, I tried to memorize everything about him. His face--hazel eyes with slight facial hair here and there, all in the right places. His dark hair was tucked behind as a very short pony tail. I could not help myself but sniffed his scent, his manly perfume tickled my nose gently. He smelled so good, I wished I could snuggle closer and enveloped by him--my favorite safe haven. I wanted to remember every single second of this moment...
He studied me carefully too. His eyes were so intense. I could read all the feelings he let me see. He was usually so guarded, while I was the open letter he was the one with horribly tight seal. He worshiped privacy like no other but he gives me a privilege to see right through him nevertheless.
I felt our thick wall crumbled into thousands pieces. Surrounding us with unknown and unclassified feelings. We were practically baring ourselves to each other. No more curtain in front of our emotion. It was time.
"What if we were situated in a whole different condition?" I whispered softly, too scared to break the spell.
"You mean in a world without distance ?"
"Maybe..."
He stared at me like I was a lunatic. Yes, maybe I was. I was in the edge of my sanity because life would soon take my safe haven hastily--him.
"But distance is my life and no one can take me away from that. The more I embrace distance, the more I discover things. Even distance was the one who gave me you... If I did not take the decision to pursue my education abroad, we would never meet. Right?"
"No one worthy enough to change your mind?"
"Yes." He answered it without any bit of hesitation.
I felt like there was a high voltage lightning struck my heart.
"Some things are meant to be broken." He said again to respond my miserable silence.
"Even when the bound was so powerful?" I needed to doubt him. I refused to stop!
He looked at me with such intensity that killed all my feeling--I did not know what to react, what to feel at the moment. All those emotions overwhelmed me. Slowly, oh slowly he put his palm on my heart.
"I could feel myself here..."
Without breaking the eye contact, I put my hand over his heart as well.
"As could I..."
"But some things are really meant to be broken..."
And at that time I could hear my own heart breaking, just like the wall that was once guarding it.
Finally, I arrived in front of the mighty Eiffel Tower. Just in time when hundreds of lights were twinkling and blinking. I opened my small sling bag and took the last picture. I matched it with the real Eiffel Tower in front of me. I stared at the picture and ignored the reality that was going on around me. His picture was captivating me. He captured it perfectly and beautifully--even more beautiful than the reality.
Maybe because that he was. He was more beautiful than any reality--he was too good to be true. Like my own personal angel, but guessed no one deserved perfection and no angel belonged to mortal.
Suddenly, all air was taken from my lungs... I could not breath. I could not stand. I sat there...surrounded by people kissing, families hugging each other, friends joking around with wine in their hands. I sat there and cried heart wrenchingly--silently.
I could not believe that I was here, in Paris, under the Eiffel Tower...without him. We dreamed about it together but now, just like what he said... our dream was meant to be broken. He left me with his broken promises scattered around like unfinished jigsaws. Abandoned and forgotten.
I could feel myself swallowed by elegy... A deep elegy that I buried for so long. Now it came back to me. Guessed one could not be strong all the time. I let it out... because this sadness deserved to be felt. At least, I had come this far. I had done my part. For his memory was worth it. Our bound was precious enough... therefore, the sadness that come upon our broken bound was truly deserved to be felt. I just hopped his reasons to forsake me were the same--worth it, because clearly, for him, what we had was not good enough.
Last tears.
I promised...
I whispered it through the summer night. The ironic night of closure. While others celebrated their love in this city, I practically feasted upon my broken heart and conclude my love tale.
****
Now
Prague. I loved this city. I remembered the last time I was here, it was like years ago. I came with a severe broken heart--tried so hard to heal myself. Escaping from home just to erase him or maybe, I just simply made an excuse to cross the ocean and searched for him in his continent. It was crazy actually. But well, what did you expect? Illogical love could always kill your logic.
And now, here I was, arrived in front of the most prestigious photography exhibition in Leica Gallery Prague. Honestly I did not know why I came here myself. Oh yeah right, my boss wanted me to go. As an art curator, it was my job to look for the best art pieces all over the world. I denied my boss several times though, especially after I saw the list of the photographers.
Damn.
I knew that he would be a famous photographer one day. My artistic intuition could see it from the very beginning when he showed those beautiful pictures of his; he made our small college town looked way prettier. I wondered how he turned those simple beauties into something amazing. But now, I especially wondered, what did he look like now? More handsome? Did he possibly cut his hair? My head was basically invaded by these crazy unnecessary thoughts rather than what kind of arts that I would buy this evening.
Well, maybe I should have Googled him in the past.
I chuckled bitterly, stalking him was just off the list. Listening to someone said his name was already hurt like crazy, left alone stalk his social media or google him. I literally would be dead if I discovered him with his conquests. Or even only merely knew that he had a completely happy life, while I struggled.
I shook those bad memories away, I refused to dwell in. It had been two years. I believed I had changed. Or there would always be a chance that he did not remember about me.
Yeah, keep telling that to your self!
I wished he would not be there. It would be so awkward. But come on, after all these years? Should it be that awkward if we actually meet each other? Well, let's just hope I would not put any interest in his pictures--which also most unlikely.
I sighed, dejectedly. Knowing, there was no way out of this lose-lose situation.
Straightened up my dress, I entered this classy building after giving my invitation to the guard. This private show surely the hottest thing in Prague, since the guests were all dressed up so neat and fancy. There were a lot of people in there--of course, what did I expect? Duh. I had not even met him, yet my logic was already dimmed into a lower level.
The wall was painted grey with a lot of pictures on the wall. In each side, I could see the name of the photographer. I walked further, looking for the main exhibition hall. I did not want to waste too much time, it would be better to see the best pieces and grab it as fast as possible before others had it. Or before I bumped into him.
I could see one picture in the wide wall of the main room. People were swam in front of it, I guessed I should wait for my turn. Patiently, I waited until I was in front of this sensational picture.
I gasped.
I felt time stood still.
I could not breath.
...
It was a picture of me.
I was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, holding his picture to match it up with the actual sight.
Wildly, my eyes searched for the title.
It was written:
His Broken Dream Came True
By: G. Amadeus
He was there.
As soon as the realization hit me like a hurricane, I did not know what happened to me after that. It was like I was witnessing my own self struggling to get out from the crowd--looking for air to breath.
He was there.
He saw me there.
He watched me in my most broken and fragile moment.
I found an empty corner and leaned my self on the clear wall. Clearly, I could not support myself now.
"Malf?"
And then I saw him for real. He was wearing a very fancy suit. His hair was now cut really short, almost like those who were in the army. He stood there, watching me devouring his presence. The man who took my heart away, cherished it just to crush it in the end. The man who bailed on me on our promised Euro trip. The man who let me cried so hard in the airport, once I realized he would not come. The man who did not even show up in our promised country: France.
In short, the man who once broke me severely.
After a torturing silence, he slowly approached me--looking afraid as if I might explode. Which was good because I could even feel it in my skin. My wrath crawled in every inch of it. I tried so hard to calm my emotion down, remembering his main picture in this exhibition. His muse: me.
Stood firmly, I gave him a smile--or so I thought as a smile.
"Hello G, how are you?" I said harsher than I wanted it to be.
"Great?"
"Of course you are great. How could you not? Knowing that you have been loved too deep back then under the Eiffel Tower? Poor girl, her crazy love was taken for granted."
"Malf..."
"Was it hurt? Seeing me so close to you but you could not even meet me in person? You could not even touch me. Was it hurt?
He kept being silent.
"Answer me? At least I got one answer from out of billions unanswered questions that I have for you."
He stared at me intently.
"Yes. It hurt and still hurts like hell..."
"Good, at least I was not the only one who had my own personal hell. Good luck with your life! Goodbye."
"Malf!" He grabbed my hand.
"Don't! Your time is up, G. Some things are meant to be broken, right? Including my love for you. Funny how I ended that feeling in the city of love, exactly in the moment that you captured in a quite impressive way. I wished you enjoyed the view."
I stared at him. Feeling so numb, I hated it.
"So long my friend. au revoir! Thank you for making my decision easier back then in Paris. Like I said before, good luck!" I said bitterly, ending our unexpected encounter.
And then, I walked away and never looked back.
Or so I hopped.
***HER END***
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