Reminder

Natasha Lim

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- after Alfian Sa’at

 

In a lot of ways, it was always going to come down to these final moments: you in the opposite seat with your head nesting in your hands, me wrapped in this white flag, my milkshake standing before me swirling with mortifying admissions. It knows what I’ve done, it can’t believe it. The longer you take to respond, the slower my words sink in—I drink in their descent, creamy comfort to cushion the inevitable catastrophe. Fold your arms back onto the cold table, sneak a peek at my expectant expression. I’m scared to hope for more than what we’ve got. I crack a shy smile and pluck the cherry on top, your gaze trailing my every movement. I watch the gears turn in your mind, the grey realisation settling in your eyes. You flip through scores of late-night sleepovers, my head angled a little too close to yours on the pillow. Prom spent in my arms when your shitty boyfriend ditched you, how eager they welcomed you. You feel like you’ve been deceived. I know, but I cannot help what I feel. These next words will not come easy. All you can do is try to pick the right ones, while I fend off your undulating waves of remorse. That day on the beach, I admit I wanted nothing more than to stay. To watch the water slip down your bare shoulders, to feel the grit of sand in between our skin. Now we sit here stranded in an impasse, eighteen years of anticipation flowing along the only path it ever knew—towards you, always you, all of it rising to this crushing moment. Please look at me. Your aversiveness speaks volumes, the kind of music I’d want to turn all the way up and shake the foundations of my confinements. I want to let this ocean of shame engulf me in its embrace. This heartbreak has always coursed through my veins. After all, who knows you best? I ask for more and you take it like a bullet breaking skin, you feel it like a ghost you can’t outrun. And in a lot of ways, you never could.