Prose & Poetry

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Waiting: Part Two

Waiting: Part Two

Chapter Three  

When she returned, her mother stopped waiting for her father. There were too many women, too many cities, too many parts of him that she could not hold. Batas could tell the exact moment she had given up. It happened deep into the night, and Batas could hear in her sleep, the sound of a loud and definite splash, like the moon had just fallen into the river. She woke up and slowly walked to her mother's bedroom. Her mother's hand searched for her father's body next to hers but could not find it. He was not there. He was hardly ever there.

"When are you coming home?" She would hear her mother ask her father. Her mother was weeping, was longing, and was asking him to remember her.

"Soon," He would say, "Go back to sleep and I'll be there when you wake up. I promise. I am faithful to you. Only you, only yours."

The next night, they sat on the nook of their window, each holding a warm cup of tea. They lived, just the two of them, in that house. They were quiet, but they understood each other. Theirs was a love that was born from the shared act of waiting.

"I heard something in my sleep last night." Batas tells her mother.

"Did you?"

"It was the sound of your heart surrendering." Batas said.

"No, my love. It is the sound of my heart falling into yours." Her mother answered. Outside, the moon was moving, ever so slowly, as if falling over the precipice of a cliff. What would happen if we lost the moon? Would the world turn completely dark? Did they have each other to hold hands with?

"When are you leaving?" Her mother asked her.

"Soon," Batas said, "When I've taken care of everything."

The wind was clattering the window frames, slipping into their nightdress, tucking into the crevices of their limbs. Her mother took a piece of wind that had slipped into her collar, and sighed.

"But we will never part, will we?" Batas asked. "We're of the same heart."

"Have you thought of what you will bring from here?" Her mother asked.

"Nothing." Batas tells her, "I have him."

"One day, you will lose him. One day, you too, will stop waiting."


Chapter Four

Batas stopped waiting for him. There were too many women, too many cities, too many parts of him that she could not hold. Batas could tell the exact moment she had given up. It happened deep in the night, she could hear it in her sleep, the sound of a loud and definite splash, like the moon had just fallen into the river. Her hand searched for his body next to hers but could not find it. He was not there. He was never there. She walked over to the telephone and dialled the number that always ached her to press. The phone rung three times, and he picked it up. There were sounds of conversations, of laughter, of unfaithfulness.

"When are you coming home?" She asked him. She wanted to weep, wanted him to feel the longing from her voice, wanted him to remember her.

"Soon," He said, "Go back to sleep and I'll be there when you wake up. I promise. I am faithful to you. Only you, only yours."

The next night, Batas sat by the window, holding a cup of tea that has grown cold. She lived, for the two of them, in that apartment. They were quiet, but it was because she carried her silence for him. Theirs was a love that was born from her act of waiting.

"I heard something in my sleep last night." Batas tells her mother on the phone.

"It must be the sound of your heart surrendering." Her mother said. 

"No, mother. It is the sound of your heart falling into mine." Batas answered. Outside, the moon was moving, ever so slowly, as if falling over the precipice of a cliff. She realised what would happen if we lost the moon. The world would turn completely dark, and we would have no one to hold hands with.

"When are you leaving?" Her mother asked her.

"Soon," Batas said, "When I've taken care of everything."

The wind was clattering the window frames, slipping into her nightdress, tucking into the crevices of her limbs. Batas took a piece of wind that had slipped into her collar, and sighed.

"We're never going to part, were we?" Batas asked. "We're of the same heart."

"Have you thought of what you will bring from there?" Her mother asked.

"Nothing." Batas tells her, "I have lost him."

"One day, you will find him. One day, you too, will stop waiting."

Waiting: Part Three

Waiting: Part Three

Chalcedony

Chalcedony