‘Mama,’ – she whispers silently.
‘Yes, my love,’ – I whisper back.
‘What if you and London boy get married?’
(Can this girl read my mind?!)
We are both silent for a moment.
‘That would be very nice, don’t you think?’ – I ask her.
More silence.
‘But don’t worry. London boy will never marry me. He will never ever marry anybody.’
The guy has told me this from the start. And we are talking here about almost 5 years of me hearing this. He’ll never marry. He’ll never have a girlfriend. He’ll never have another relationship.
And yet… he’d come to visit me. At last!
I remember all the times he said he would, I know exactly where I was every time he said it: walking down the street, waiting at the doctor’s, coming home after a walk, lying next to him. It just never happened.
But then one day I found myself hanging at the airport, checking the arrivals screen. I was looking at the faces of passersby, searching for the one. And boy, was I happy to see him. He was impossible to miss! Amongst the crowds of men and women, wrapped up in scarves and coats, all dressed in dark, he was strolling in the brightest of reds, his jumper unzipped, his headphones on. I couldn’t help but smile. I didn’t expect anything less than this from London boy. Sure, as we went outside to look for a taxi he quickly put on his winter coat (it was a cold night at the end of March), but the pieces of red kept peeking through, brightening the dark night.
He didn’t stay long here. Mind you, had he stayed 2 months, I’d probably be saying the same. However, for me – it was an event of the century.
Moments are stuck in my head, and I’m sure I will cherish them for long: climbing the steep hill and having my legs shake afterwards; walking side by side, exploring the city; grabbing lunch at a burrito bar; chatting about life; cooking and savoring; holding on to each other for the airport goodbye.
And another thing I won’t forget – London boy reading a bedtime story for my daughter. I asked. He agreed. Except instead of an English book he chose to read the language he did not know. Me, being me, had no patience to listen to the mispronounced words. I kept running from the bathroom and telling him how to say words right. My daughter kept telling me to go back to the bathroom and leave them alone. They were having the best of times with giggles and chuckles, roars and shrieks of laughter.
They didn’t get an awful amount of time to spend together. But when they did, the time was awesome.
Me? I was left with ‘I’ll see you in the summer’. And for the time being that’s enough.
