Dream

(short story. comments welcome.)

"I am moving to another city this week.", she said slowly, as she stirred the coffee.
"Moving? This week? Why?", his voice had the alarm she had anticipated.
"Work.", she didn't look into his eyes.
"When are you coming back?", was his next question.
There was no answer. Just the sound of a spoon stirring the liquid.

He didn't ask anything else. Work, as she always said, was her survival requirement, and was the first priority over everything else. He understood that, and never attempted to interfere in her professional commitments. They made a good pair, both accommodating and understanding partners.

He was an executive in a fast-growing startup company. His work hours consumed most of his daily consciousness. She never asked him about his work. Neither did he. They were aware that both of them had to work long hours and mostly met on weekends for some time together.

For the next one week, he met her everyday. They didn't talk about her departure and where she was moving to. He didn't ask. He believed in fate. If they were destined to meet ever again, they will.

He thought he will be able to handle her departure well.

He was wrong.

A week later, she was gone. She called him and said, "Goodbye. Let's move on." Those were the only words he remembered. It would be probably easy to move on, he thought. But he couldn't. Two days into her absence, and he couldn't bear it anymore. He wanted to see her for real - her photograph was not enough.

He resigned from work the next day. He told his friends he was going to be with the one he wanted. He will travel, and look for her. His boss looked at him in the strangest way ever, but didn't attempt to argue with him.

Four months later, he was still traveling. He had checked every nearby city, been to almost every major social joint and food joint there with her photograph. He knew she couldn't stay away from crowds - that was her weakness.

Her photograph was the only thing he had left with him. That he only knew her first name didn't help much. Only the first name? He never asked her. Probably she knew his full name - may be she had read it from his credit card when he sometimes paid for the restaurant check. She always paid in cash, so he never had a chance for this. Now he thought of advertising in newspapers or other media, but resisted the temptation. This would not be the way she would expect him to find her.

He had tried to get physical with her a couple of times, but she refused. She pushed him away every time, saying that she wanted the relationship to stay that way until they get to know each other well. Physical intimacy, she said, "leads to heartaches". He always responded with a joke, "So you want me to go a Madam's place instead?". She never laughed or smiled at the joke, just kept her silence which ultimately made him change the topic.

He never realized when he fell in love with her. She probably understood he was getting too used to her presence. Was this the reason she went away? Was she scared? He shrugged off those thoughts. It was all over for him. He had lost what he had, and could not see a way to get her back.

He was all alone. It had been four months that he hadn't talked properly to people besides asking them about a girl's whereabouts. He felt the want today - the emotional want. Probably there was a physical element to it too. He took her photograph out of his wallet and stared. His eyes were trying to ask something, but they knew what they were looking at - a still picture who wouldn't answer.

He signaled a cab to stop. The cab driver necked out asked "Where to?"
He didn't have an answer. He was too busy finding somebody in his thoughts.
Slowly, he muttered, "I....need...someone."
The driver nodded.

Fifteen minuets later, he was standing in front of a big house.
The cab drove away.
It was a Madam's house.

He knew he didn't have a choice over his decisions today. He stepped into the house.

"Would you like to see the girls? We have one with blond hair, tall, slim. Then we have....", the lady asked.
He said, "I don't know. Send any."

The lady escorted him to a room, and hurried off to call a girl to take care of him. He, meanwhile, had dropped like dead on the bed. He was still breathing, but he didn't care. He felt the photograph that was still in his hands, and closed his eyes.

There was a knock at the door, with the sound of the door opening and closing shut. A nice perfume filled his nostrils.
He opened his eyes.

Standing right at his feet, was her.
The dream he wanted to realize, had come true. This way, at this place.
So many months. So many dreams. And there she was. The woman he talked to for hours. Now, he didn't have any words to utter.

For a moment, he didn't want this dream. It was all over. She had been working as a..... He could never have imagined.

What should he do? Walk out? Or burst out all he wanted to say before he walks out?

Then, he thought again. He smiled.

An hour later, he handed over twice the amount of money he was supposed to pay.
Before leaving the room, he said, "Here, this is the last photograph of you that I had. I won't need to see it again, ever. Goodbye."