Left Behind

1. Now what?

He grunted as he sat down, bed screeching under him. Hearing it, I was annoyed, as usual. However, this time I heard something else in his grunts, something more subtle, not the simple grunt of a man who begged for attention. I listened more attentively, something I have not done in quite a while. A sigh followed, the kind one gives when one thinks nobody is around paying attention.

I opened my eyes and looked at him, seeing him for the first time in a very long time. He was old, older than I expected him to be, with deep wrinkles on his face and a curved back. I was astounded. How did this happen? When did it happen? "In the meantime," my mind, the annoyed part of it, answered. Yes, I thought, it happened in the meantime. In the last 8 years, in the period between now and the moment we were left behind. "He deserves it", the same part of me snapped. Yes, I acquiesced, he does. "All that happens to him, he deserves. And more. He pinned us here, on this dying world, alone and miserable..."

I silenced that part of my mind, the part that always blames. I silenced it and instead I took in the person I was seeing. 8 years, 3 months, and 4 days. I never stopped counting. How could I? I was young, 8 years ago, in love, with a bright future ahead of me. I was expected on the off-world ship, I was acclaimed. "The young prodigy", they were saying. The 6 ships fought over the privilege of having me on board. Only the presence of Lieutenant Miller on board of Minerva tipped the balance in its favour. I was offered a high-class, all-inclusive ticket on that ship. All I had to do is be there and grab it. But I wasn't. And that was because of him. Because of the man who aged before me without me seeing it, without me even noticing. 

I closed my eyes and pictured for the millionth time young Josh Miller the day he gave me the ring, the day I offered him my hand in marriage and my heart for what I thought was going to be forever. I felt, again for the millionth time, tears wetting my cheeks. "That future is gone now", I heard the other one, the man in front of me, a younger version of him, saying. "He's gone, you're here, you got to make the best of it, here." Interesting enough, now, for the first time, I heard reason in those words. Not then, not when he spoke them, but now, 8 years later, as I remembered them.

I watched him again, more attentive this time. Yes, certainly these years have left their mark on him: skin over clear bones, where muscles used to show; the top of the head so bald, it looked polished to a shine; his back so bent, that I had the impression he'd make a huge effort to look up. He fidgeted all the time. Whether his hands or his legs, he couldn't stop fidgeting.

I shivered. I knew the same marks of time passing were visible on my body as well. Well, not exactly the same, I wasn't bald for one, but the same skinniness, a similarly bent back... for the millionth time I started crying. I saw him shifting his position, embarrassed. He could hear me, I knew, and that made him uncomfortable. He never looked at me as I cried, not since I rebuffed him so brutally all those years before. Not since I stopped talking to him or even acknowledge his presence. But now, for the first time, I sensed his embarrassment so intensely, that I was ashamed. He wasn't, I realised, annoyed by my crying, but hurt.

I forced myself to stop crying. It wasn't easy though. Once I started it was very hard to stop. But I tried. And, to my surprise, I succeeded. To his surprise too, I realised, as he suddenly became more alert. I had no idea whether he was aware of the change on his part, but I could sense it. He stopped fidgeting. I thought, in horror, that he was going to turn around and look at me. He didn't. He just became very rigid, suggestive of attentiveness. I sighed. I felt so uncomfortable. The usual hatred disappeared and something else replaced it. Something I haven't felt in a while: compassion.

"Compassion? For him?!" my mind cried. "He doesn't deserve compassion. He doesn't deserve anything from you. Nothing but hatred." Again, I silenced that part of my mind. It didn't really make sense, I usually basked in these lamentations, but now, today, all my fury, all my hatred were gone. Whether for good or only for a day, or just a few minutes, it was very hard to tell but, for the first time in a very long time, I was calm.