“I can’t wait to see you again,” she said in the Messenger.
Naturally, I would always blush when I hear her saying this in the opposite line or when I read it in her chat.
Marga and I were in an LDR for almost six years already. We were highschool sweethearts and our relationship had seen good days.
I would call her in my vacant times; she would call me in her convenience.
She became an interior designer and is based in Greece. I could still recall the design she made for our future house, a small duplex apartment type. One side for our living quarters and the other for our official functions like office, library, and studio. She likes painting. Greek cities would be a great subject, especially those across the Mediterranean.
On the other hand, I became a history professor in a local college. Sometimes, when we would eat outside, Marga and I would talk about the Habsburg, how Emperor Franz Joseph insisted marrying Sissi of Bavaria the first time he saw her. The fact that it was her older sister he was supposed to marry is just so nerve-wracking.
“Would you do the same what Franz did?” I asked her.
“That would be painful for the sister,” she said. “But you can always be kept in a cage, but still long for the sky. Franz chose the sky, while there is a chance.”
In other times, since we were entirely on the opposite sides of the world, we would just be settle on the comfort of video chat, voice messages, and occasionally, bold photogenic shots.
But, there is always this something that you keep on wanting, even if you still have the thing you wish you have. Like, a hug, or a kiss. Those are different in person.
As a professional, I would always be invited in some private parties with my colleagues, and now and then, someone would want to hold your hand, touch your trunk, and spend the night with you.
But for the love of Marga, I declined. I would choose not break my dream of dying old drinking wine in a Greek town with someone I love than choosing a glass of cheap beer overnight.
Our relationship is next to perfect, sunny like Athens.
Then last night, Marga sent me this message.
“I can’t wait to see you again.”
This was after a week of not responding to my messages.
Last month, she told me she missed me a lot. I would understand her since it has been so long since we saw each other. If I could just embrace her in my arms, perhaps it would take at least a little of her loneliness.
I told her that it will only be two years then I go to Greece with her, I am just settling my papers here.
Then after that, she blocked me in social media. At least, that is all I could remember.
“I can’t wait to see you again.”
I read it again while continue blushing. My heart pounded like never been before. As I proceeded to reply, “me too,” another message popped up. Again, it was hers.
And in an instant, like the invasion of Persia to Thrace, all the city-states in the Aegean sea felt anxious, and somewhat all the Spartans had been decapitated.
“I can’t wait to see you again.” I repeated it in my mind.
“So I’m seeing someone else already. Sorry, I became another Franz. Don’t wait for me na.”
