Henana Berjes

PROLOGUE
It is that time of the year.
It’s that time of the year when I lose people.
I always lose people in Autumn, and so I lost him too.
There’s nothing strange about it. I know, but somehow, I am never prepared.
When D entered my life at the end of summer, somehow, I knew I would lose
him, if not in that autumn, then maybe the next.
And I lost him this Autumn.
It was an incredible love story until it lasted, but all stories must end, and mine did
too. It didn’t exactly end on a bad note, or did it? Both of us knew it was time to
move on, but even then, the hurt stayed.
The question upmost in my mind was, ‘why did you let me walk away if you loved
me enough?’
And I didn’t have an answer to this question.
Sometimes we just let people get away from us. No questions asked, and no hard
feelings kept.
We let them go as if we knew they weren’t meant to stay. And that if one day they
chose to walk away without asking, we wouldn’t be able to handle the pain.
So, to save ourselves from all that pain, we let them go prematurely. We let them
walk away without hurting us.
But then, does it make it hurt any less?
Does it?
And now, seeing a vacant bed on my right side, with neatly folded sheets, amber in
colour, I miss him. The place has so gotten used to him. His presence is
everywhere, from the main door to the last stair that leads to the terrace roof. I
could have sworn we have made memories in every single place, and now he is
gone leaving a vacuum I would never be able to fill.
The room still smells of him. The deodorant he wore still lies by the side of the
dresser.

His freshly polished leather shoes, as if he would just come over and slip into
them, stand next to the chiffonier. He is just a breath away, a heartbeat down my
heart. He is there, and he will never cease to be.
The rumpled edge of my skirt gets caught in a stubborn nail edging out of my side
of the bed as I try to get up. My side is unkempt and slept over, while D’s is clean
and unslept.
He left at the beginning of the fall; since then, I have never slept on his side of the
bed.
The amber-hued bed sheets mock at me.
But I sleep on my side anyway.
I don’t even roll over to that side in my sleep.
That space is sacred, and it belongs to him. Maybe one day he would choose to
come back, and then he would find his bed neatly made, his deodorant still next to
the drawer and his freshly polished shoes next to the chiffonier where he left them.
Maybe, he chooses to return someday.
And it wouldn’t be Autumn when he does, but until then, I will have to go away.
At 28, this isn’t the life I had envisioned for myself.

I pack a small rucksack, the size of an ordinary school bag, tuck in a t-shirt and a
worn pair of jeans and leave my home. I look back once or twice. I have left the
keys under the flower vase where he knows he will find them. I always hide the
keys there just in case, and if he has lost the spare key, he will look for them under
the vase.
I left my phone at home.
For now, I want to be disconnected from the world.
I’ve sent a voice message to mom, who worries about me all the time, and I think
she would understand.
‘Mom, I am leaving, and I don’t know where I am headed, but I had to. And I
hope you understand.’
A mother is supposed to understand, and I have always been a weird child.
Right now, I don’t care if she understands, but I don’t want to upset her, so I also
add an ‘I love you’ message.

Perhaps she would understand.
Perhaps she would try to, at least.
Mom, I might see you soon enough, but I don’t know if it will be a few days, a few
months or maybe a year. I think, but I don’t tell her that.
And that’s how I leave, with no sense of direction or idea of the struggle ahead of
me. I have money, but not exactly enough. But I won’t need much, I calculate
mentally.
Until I am within the limits of civilisation, my bank credit is enough to support me,
and once I am out of its bounds as I aim for, I won’t need it anyway.
Gadgets remind you of people, and so do roads and walkways. So does every
corner, every park bench and every restaurant where you once met.
I close my eyes as I stand outside the door and realise I won’t be coming home for
a long time.

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