Mix-Bag

Realization

He had always been close to me, I cant even remember since when. Maybe before he became a famous actor, before I became a famous costume designer, before we were really teens.

And then she came, beautiful, talented, kind and immensely in love with him. And also, faithfully in love with me. Again, a famous somebody I cant remember.

Perhaps because I never cared to know. She never cared to tell. He never cared to formally introduce. I just knew her and she just loved me, from the beginning, since she came. We must still be innocent children, or I don't know if it was only me, when one day he brought her to me and said that, she was his friend and from then on, ours. We always shared everything, I guess. Every huge secrets of ours, every little treasure we found, every prideful possession we had, every this and every that. Is that why he shared her with me?

When she came, she didn't intervene in what was ours. Because what was ours was strictly ours, she was told. And, magically, I didn't intervene in what was theirs. Gladly she and I had nothing to keep from him. What we had in common was just, him. As time passed, as we grew up more, as they became mature adults from crushing proper teenagers and I became rebellious post teen from innocent preteen, I knew I lacked behind them, in my head. Or it could be that I was actually younger than them, a few years. Still, we were in mid twenties and I must have grown up, if she hadn't come to deprive me of my growth nutrients, the mature experiences I must have had or told by him. Maybe I had never grown up since she came.

And then that day came when I realized how all of those years had been terrible mistakes. Not one, not two, I cant remember how many but all of them.

That narrow balcony facing the long flyover and an endless broad maze of concrete roads seemed to be a sacred place. For us, him and me and for them, him and her. For us and for her. For the three of us somehow. It could have been larger than the guilty box in courts if not for the long tree that grew beside it. This little space housed a school bench and a small stool which we used to sit, talk, laugh on. I earned enough to buy a new spacious property but sometimes, you are so in love with your old pajamas that you wouldn't trade them for two pairs of new ones and that was it. He knew that and she acted to understand. She had to.

I waited for him in the same balcony built over my crammed clothes manufacturing unit at the ground level and costumes warehouse at the middle and upper which was just a wide staircase, each step half occupied by packed inventory again and the balcony which, despite meeting face to face with roads still managed to provide fresh air. I wore a light peach chiffon knee length dress that day. I must be attending some party with him, can't recall now, I never wore something revealing so much skin while I crafted those dresses everyday. It was a happy occasion, it was supposed to be. The squeaking tin gate announced his arrival. He threw a glance at me, smiled lightly and sat on the bench, resting his arms on the half wall opposite to the bench and signaled me to sit. I smiled and sat. I didn't wanted him to compliment me or judge me and he was aware of that. The way he looked and smiled was enough to tell me I looked fine, nothing to worry about. I wanted to know where were we going but without letting me ask he told that she would be coming soon and so she did, after he told me what set the realization in motion.

I couldn't stop it, I remember, when she slowly started to intercede in what was ours with her presence. Before I knew it, we were spending quality time altogether. It was official by the time they ended being teens, that they were a couple. Doing the same what all the couples do, hugging, kissing or caressing each other every now and then, but it changed nothing between us, it was always the same. I was the closest to him and she had to love this fact, love me. She did it pretty well, all those years and must have continued to do it, till the end of our lives, or end of his. We never spoke of their relationship any more than friendship, I never wanted to know and they never tried to show. But it always pained me to see 'both of us' becoming 'three of us'. By that time, I only used to receive a quick visit by him on weekdays and occasional outing plans on the weekends. All of us used to be busy with work but soon his visits and our weekends started to mend with their meetings and dates and now almost every plan we made included her. Where was the 'our' territory that she couldn't cross now? I never asked. He must knew it like he knew everything I felt, wanted, needed.