Peggy & Julio
Peggy and Julio. Peggy was Peggy Olsen and Julio was a kid that lived downstairs. Julio would be the same age as the child she gave up long back. But almost everything we give up, for seemingly other more worthy things we want, comes back later in life just to make us feel raw and unfaithful. It unsettles us. Sometimes when Peggy saw Julio, she must remember the child she abandoned. The inconvenient truth that she slid under the carpet. I know from the string of stories that I call my deep personal history that nothing actually ever leaves us. Unrequited love, unfulfilled dreams, clothes that we wanted to purchase but gave up on, restaurants we wanted to eat in but forgot, shiny crockery, voluptuous wine glasses particularly, trips that we never took, babies that we wanted to have but never did, vacations that we didn't deserve yet, stories we planned on writing but then they wore off our minds, but most of them all - unrequited love. We just cannot get over the fact that that we quit.
Once I spent an entire day waiting. Can u imagine. A whole entire day waiting. It gave me an ulcer, well almost. It was impossible. I had called somebody and they had said they would call me back on the coming Sunday. And then the sun rose on Sunday and my waiting began. I remember checking the phone every two minutes to begin with. My palms and temples sweated terribly. I had nothing to do but wait. I had dosas for breakfast that day. My phone lay quietly near my plate. I did my assignments, less than half hearted, like quarter hearted or so. My friends could see the lines on my forehead. I analysed my life on the whole. My self worth within the span of a few hours of cavernous waiting. All I did was wait. I had chicken for lunch, I remember walking back to my room and sitting on the stairs to sun-dry my shampooed hair. But still no call. Had he forgotten me. Was he alright. Should I call him instead and check. Had the telephone lines gone berserk. Had towers fallen. Had a flood drowned him. What disaster had befallen upon him to not have kept his promise. Afternoon trickled through the hourglass, excruciatingly slowly, like I could see grain after grain of time. I was totally disheveled. Evening came, I seethed in pain. I trembled with impatience. It took me the night to realize that he wasn't infact going to. And then onward I decided never to wait as ferociously for anything else. Ever in my life.