I watched her as she walked in, tired as usual after a long day at work, almost tripping over the doormat as she was wont to do.
Her eyes held mine, as I marvelled at all they held. All her wisdom, her kindness, her strength, her humour... her vast capacity for love - I could see in her eyes.
How lucky I felt, every day, that she’d chosen me. She, who could have had her pick from among the most impressive blooms the world had to offer, had thought I – this common heather flower – was worthy of her love.
Was it pity, I wondered sometimes. Did she notice me that first time because she felt sorry for me?
No! That evening, as she had gracefully negotiated that interminable gallery filled with starstruck faces, one glance in my direction was all it had taken - the light in her eyes had been unmistakable. If she had felt even a sliver of the indescribable wave of emotion that had flooded my chest and rocked my world in that instant, I had no need for worry. Was I fooling myself, though? Had I just been an interesting find, a well-intentioned challenge, a puzzle to solve?
On dark days, it wasn’t hard to imagine her as calculating. Her moods were mercurial, and her motivations often questionable. Given to short bursts of energy and excitement, she could frequently lapse into long, morose silences. At such times, if she even noticed my presence, I'd be lucky to have a few absent-minded platitudes thrown my way. When I’d try to cheer her up, she’d look at me with a sort of disdain. I felt repulsed by my own weakness, my willing submission to her vagaries. I wished I had the strength to break free. Then, in a moment, my life before she came into it would flash before my eyes – in all its misery, loneliness and pain – and I’d resolve, yet again, that I was willing to bear any unkindness from this woman, so long as I could be with her.
For the most part, our times together radiated love – a beautiful, though difficult love. A vaguely one-sided love. I understood that she may never love me as much as I loved her, the way I loved her. I meant something to her – this was enough. But the heart is a wicked thing! The idea that I deserved more rankled. I could have more if I tried. If I truly expressed the way I feel, wouldn’t she be surprised and moved? See me in a new light, even with passion, perhaps! I needed to do something to show her how much I appreciated her selflessness in often putting my needs ahead of hers, to make up for the things that she forwent because I didn’t enjoy them as much. For her untiring commitment to make our relationship work despite her misgivings about us, she deserved my unstinted admiration and gratitude.
The germ of an idea had started to take root in my mind. I knew that the two things she loved the most in the world were music and travel. Her responsibilities had not left her much time to stay in touch with the former, and she had all but given up the latter.
I would find a way to bring them back to her.
I planned it meticulously to the last detail – the kiss on her hand when she walked through the door after her long day at work, the formal invitation that I would ceremoniously extend, how I’d then escort her to the backyard where a makeshift concert hall would be set up, the minimalist orchestra I could easily put together by calling in a few favours – and there, I would perform for her, a piece from her favourite opera, Pagliacci.
I’d never had the courage to let her hear me sing. Now she, who always rewarded my occasional sotto voce humming with a silvery giggle, would see what I was capable of when I delivered a full-throated aria in my true tenor voice.
Then, kissing her enraptured face, I’d sweep her to the gate and whisper - 'Our carriage awaits, my darling. A private jet, set to fly to all the places that you have always dreamed of seeing – the glistening slopes of the Alps, the silent deserts of Africa, the emerald isles of unknown oceans. Let us head forth into the great outdoors, the free, wild world where we both once belonged.'
I couldn’t have hoped for it to go better. As I murmured those last words, I saw the corners of her eyes crinkle and a slow smile of pure delight find its way across her lovely face. My heart swelled with pride that I was the reason for her joy. Her golden aura dispelled all my previous doubts and fears. I had made her happy, this was all there was, all there would ever be
.
I pulled myself up to my full height and gazed at her, all my love and hopes for our future together shining in my eyes.
She reached out to me, smiling, as I leaned into her with unbridled happiness.
‘What a performance! You’ll do anything for my attention, won’t you, you little clown? I know it’s time for your walk, there’s no need to bring the house down. Come on!’
Glowing with the satisfaction of a job well done, I realized that there was no need to be free. We were both where we belonged - at the two ends of my leash.
