Moody

The quiet, sinister Sunday threatened to turn into a loud, social gathering. My mind slowly retreated into its alcove that housed ghostly books, dank coffee and sun dresses. My immediate predicament seemed to linger around like an annoying friend that I had to make the decision on whether I would be happy, pleasant or simply ignorant. Simply ignorant. I walked around the house with a nonchalant smirk and helped my mom cook dinner. I dressed into an attire that wouldn’t turn heads because, well, that’s all I had. I went through the motions and surprisingly found myself enjoying my night. I reminded myself that I was supposed to be simply ignorant  but my mind quietly shut me up and continued to gaze in the direction a particular person who had miraculously befriended me on a previous Sunday. The smiles and gestures seemed to lift my spirits and I decided that this night would be better than most.

“Enjoyed the food?” My heart was slightly fluttering as I smiled and nodded. “Yes. I’m full.” After a few more pleasantries were exchanged I realized we were from the same place.

Incredulously, I remarked, ” But you don’t speak the language? At all?”
“Nope. Not a word. I have never per se lived there.”
“Hahaha, well that makes the two of us. Pseudo mallus.”
“Fist bump to that.” (gesture completed)
By the way, I did try to leave you a missed call. But your phone was switched off.”
“You did not try. I checked my phone. I went through random numbers and even called one to realize it was a friend I hadn’t talked to for years. He said, “Uh, what do you want?” And I was just like, “Just checking up on you… He he he.” So, do you see what you put me through?”
I was genuinely surprised that he had made the effort to look for my number. “I swear, I did call you. You phone was switched off.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
“Alright, I’ll give you a call now.” And that’s when I realized that I had left my bag upstairs, in the dining room. “But my bag is upstairs. So I’ll give you a call once I get that.”
He shrugged his shoulders and I wished upon a thousand stars that the bag would magically transport itself to my side. I bribed my cousin to get my bag and he sauntered off to retrieve what I had left behind.
He continued, ” So I’ve lived here there. One could say it is very confusing.”
“Confused heritage.”
“Yes, yes. Exactly that,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. My cousin was back and I placed the mandatory call. “Ringing,” I said showing my phone.
“If there is a missed call I’ll get your number.” (thumbs up)

After a while, he had to leave and so did I. My strange simply ignorant attitude returned and I contemplated the tiny conversation as I fell asleep wishing my boyfriend would at least say I miss you.

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