A Late Letter

Dear Grandma,

You left us a year ago today. We were never close. You didn’t exactly let anyone get too close. You really never pampered me or hugged me out of love. You had this impenetrable wall around you. You suffered much in life, it made you bitter, but you welled it all in. I never understood you.

The past one year has been much too overwhelming. But oddly enough I finally get why you were the way you were. And I respect you, your defiance, your resolve, and your courage.

I have possibly never thought much about you when you were around but I can’t help but think about you now that you aren’t here. I wish I could have known you better. I wish you would have shared more of yourself with me. I wish you could be happier.

And for the first time, I miss you.

May God be kind to you and us all. Bless you.

Love,
A Grandchild

Checkmate

By
HUDA Ansari

"I'm sorry!" he cried, tears flowing down his hot cheeks. "Please say something?"

She continued staring at the floor quietly. She wasn't crying. She was just quiet.

"I don't know what got into me. I felt attracted to her and just went with it. It's the stupidest thing I've ever done. Please forgive me. Please?"

She continued looking at the floor. The checkered floor reminded her of the game of chess she had played against her high school crush. Her skills had crushed the poor boy's ego - and her chances are ever being his prom date.

"She doesn't have anything you don't. It's almost as if making that mistake made me realise what I have here. No I'm not justifying anything. Just please give me another chance. I love you," he squeezed her hand as he knelt in front of her.

It was a shock to many that she did not go on to become a professional chess player. Her skills at the game used to scare her opponents witless. She had the gift of foresight: she knew exactly what her opponent would do even before they knew what move they'd play.

"Don't give me the silent treatment please! I beg of you, look at me?" he pleaded as his slowly dropped his head into her lap. She didn't push him away. She just continued being quiet.

"You have been the best girlfriend and best companion. Please! Elise, please say something? Anything!?!"

She picked a career in Law over the countless games of chess she could have almost effortlessly won. She knew life wasn't a game of chess. On a chessboard there are only so many pieces and so many rules. But life is different. It's more complicated.

"I forgive you," she stammered while staring at the floor.

"What?" he whispered as he raised his head from her lap. He was sure he had misheard her.

She slowly raised her head to meet his stooping figure and repeated, "I forgive you."

He was shocked albeit pleasantly so. He had just gotten a second chance in life to be happy with the only person who mattered to him.

"Oh Elise! My darling Elise! I promise I'll never let you down," he gasped as he kissed her clammy hands repeating her name over and over in gratitude of her kindness.

She looked at his sorry figure as he ardently lavished kisses on her hands. She wasn't sure what had just passed. Her brows slightly knitted in confusion as she continued to ponder over her decision. She had just willingly forgiven the man who had turned her world upside down. She had given this man, who broke her heart, another chance without even the slightest retribution. She knew you mustn't let anyone cause you pain and not have to pay its price.

But then again how can you not forgive the love of your life?

-----------------------------------------------------

In front of all his family and friends, he got down on one knee.

"Elise Marybeth James, you are the best person I've ever known. Your heart is bigger than life itself. Your capacity to love is unmeasurable. A year ago today I made the worst, most terrible mistake of my life but YOU accepted me and forgave me and have given me a chance to be a better man. Without your love, I'm nothing. And I know that now better than ever. I absolutely love you Elise. Will you please marry me?"

There was silence in the room. The eager man and his potential bride-to-be formed the cynosure of all eyes. She took the ring from his hand and smiled.

"No Richard, I will not marry you," she calmly replied as she got up to leave the room, setting the ring on the white satin tablecloth behind.

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"I don't understand Elise!" he cried. "I love you."

"I know. And I have loved you for as long as I've known you," she replied.

"Then why are you doing this? I thought everything was fine. I thought we were happy..."

"YOU were happy Richard. You killed my happiness the day you cheated on me," she calmly responded.

"I thought you forgave me?"

"I did."

"Then?"

"I just wanted to get even."

"I don't get it, Elise. Please say it's a joke," he was baffled.

She smiled.

"I needed you to fall as desperately in love with me as I was with you the time you went around breaking my heart. Now you know how that feels."

He was confused, shocked, and hurt all at once. "Where does it leave us Elise?" he asked in desperation.

"My poor darling Richard. You know, life is like chess. You caught me off guard when you cheated on me, and for the first time I realised that you were capable of throwing me off my game. So I just had to use your tricks to get my edge back."

"Don't play with me love. I really love you and I can't live without you."

"Exactly! You are out of moves. That's what I call checkmate," she replied as she reached for the door.

He just looked at her helplessly in shock. "Are you crazy, Elise?"
 

She looked at him as she closed the door behind her. There was no victory twinkle in her eyes. There was just pain.

"I was...," she stammered leaning against the shut door, "... about you," finally letting her long overdue tears to flow from her hazel brown eyes.  

My Darling Butterfly

by
HUDA Ansari

She picked up the photo frame off the fireplace.

“Does he make you happy J?”

Jane laughed. “Sweetheart, we have been married for seven years. Something must be right, don’t you think?”

Her sister sighed. “But… how do you put up with this?” She held up the photo frame to her sister. “Isn’t it a constant reminder of the past for you?”

“The past is a part of who we are today, love. I love him and he loves me. That is the present.”

“How can you forgive him?”

“What is there to forgive? They were in love. I have been there before, you know that.”

"But you don't put blatant reminders of that everywhere!"

Her sister just smiled.

She put the photo back on the fireplace next to her sister’s wedding picture. She grew frustrated. “Does he still read her letters?”

“Yes, every night.”

“And you still think he loves you?”

“I know he loves me. You are young and passionate love. There comes a time in life which love is simpler than you can imagine.”

“Well, I can’t imagine anything simple about loving someone who is still in love with someone else.”

She smiled and walked over to her sister and gave her a hug. “It’s our anniversary. Promise me you’ll be nice to Jack?”

“Only for you,” sighed her sister.

“Come, help me with the icing?”

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The doorbell rang.

She answered the door. It was a flower delivery.

“Mrs. Phillips?” the delivery boy asked.

“Yes,” Jane answered.

“Seems like Mr. Philips loves you a lot,” chuckled the boy as he looked at the delivery invoice.

She smiled. “Thank you,” she said as he handed her three dozen red roses with a solitary note.

“For making me the most content man alive… I love you. Thank you for loving me – Jack Philips”

Her sister glanced over the note from behind her and smiled.

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“I’m going to put the kids to bed,” she told her husband as she took off her coat.

“You know it is my turn!” he objected.

She smiled. “It’s okay. You’ll owe me on the day I get called in to work unexpectedly?”

He laughed. “I know you’ll make me pay up. You are so good at keeping accounts!”

“You have to when you are married to someone as untrustworthy as you,” she teased.

They both laughed. He drew her in close to himself for a gentle caress and softly kissed her lips.

She smiled. He could see the sparkle in her eyes. He loved how honest her eyes were.

“Thank you for everything darling!” he whispered as he pressed her against his heaving bosom.

“Let me put the kids to bed?”

He smiled and let her slip away.

He sat down on the bed and removed his cufflinks and watch. As he laid them on his bedside table, his eyes settled on the drawer underneath. He drew a heavy sigh and opened it. It was full of pink envelopes. He randomly picked one.

“My dearest Jack,

I hope you had a good day at work. I would have probably had a good time at school too. Though, I possibly had a few hand-painting-gone-wrong incidents. You’d come home tired but then you’d tell me about your day and you wouldn’t be so tired. You’d hear me whine about my day. We probably fight over who had a worse day. Then we’d go out for dinner.

But when we would get home today from dinner, I think I’d have an urge to go to the park and sit on the swings. I’d have nudged you away from your office work until you’d agree to humour me. We’d take a long drive to the park where you proposed. Then I’d make you sing for me. We would probably bicker and whine for hours until we both would be too tired and then we would come back home.

I wish I could have done that with you today… I’m sorry I can’t be with you. But… I hope there is someone else you can do that with. I hope you have accepted the reality. And I hope you are happy...

I’ll love you always,
Your darling butterfly ”

He folded the letter back into its pink envelope. His eyes were teary. He put the envelope back into the drawer and turned on his laptop. He logged into his email account and started typing:

“My Dearest Eliza,

I do accept the reality, my love. I have the life we always wanted for us. The life you wanted for me. A house by the lake, two beautiful kids, a loving wife, a perfect job. J is so caring and I love her so much. She probably the best wife and possibly the best friend any man could ever ask for.

She never questions my love for you. She never touches your letters or objects to me reading them every night. She just accepts me and all my excess baggage.

She never gets jealous. She doesn’t snore like you used to. She is an amazing cook unlike you. I still remember the time you burnt a microwave meal: the look on your face was priceless... She just loves me... unconditionally.

I am so blessed. And I know this is the reality.

I am not ashamed to admit that I love her. More than I think I could love anyone after you. But I can’t forgive myself for my infidelity to her love. Because I still love you. Because I can’t ever stop loving you. You were my soul-mate. You weren’t perfect. You were irrational. You drove me mad. You brought out the worst in me sometimes. But I loved you. And I will always love you.

I have moved on. I have accepted the reality. But I left a part of me with you. And I can never let that go.

But I also know I’ll never receive a reply to this email. I also know you are in another world so far away from me. I also know I will never feel the touch of your hands against my face. And I also know I miss you very much.

I have missed you every single day since the day you have been gone. And I will continue to miss you till the day I see you again. Because, my love, you were my dream, my passion, my love, my soul. You were my darling butterfly.

And you will always be my darling butterfly.

Forever yours,
Jack”

He hit send as tears rolled down his face. His wife sat down next to him on the bed – she had walked in unnoticed as he was typing away.

“I’m sorry Jane,” he cried.

She held his hand and gently perched his head on her shoulder. “Please don’t be. I still miss Greg. Every day. Every single bloody day,” she pleaded as she bit her lip, holding back tears.

He wiped his tears and looked into her eyes.

“I have a crazy idea. Let’s go for a walk by the lake?” he asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She smiled. “I have a crazier idea. Let’s go have ice-cream as we walk along the lake?”

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Fleeting sleet

by

HUDA Ansari

You know the feeling that you get when you meet someone absolutely perfect? He is the perfect package: soft hair, sweet eyes, nice arms, strikingly tall, speaks like a gentleman, cleans his room, showers daily kind-of-a-guy. You think this is the one. Until of course a week later you discover he is a homicidal sociopath and you are left with a bit of a heartache and potentially a lifetime of fear. Well something like that happened to me recently.

I was off to work one morning when I saw something descending from grey skies above. It wasn’t rain: it didn’t feel wet. It wasn’t hail: I know what tiny ice stones on my head feel like. This was pleasant, almost magical. It was snow.

Its grace mesmerised me. I stood, probably looking like an idiot, at the serenity of the tiny flakes gently settling on my coat. It was bliss. It made me smile and I chirpily headed off to work, silently pondering why people around me looked so grumpy this beautiful morning.

Unfortunately, this honeymoon period was short-lived, as is the case is in most destructive relationships.

I was musing over the blatant lack of correct punctuation in my course notes this afternoon when I glanced out of the window and realised, it’s happening again. My heart pounded. I knew I had to get out. So I did.

Braving the cold, I marched on to run my errands and enjoy another encounter with my latest infatuation. Oh how easily some of the stray flaked ventured into my mouth as I gasped through the frigid cold streets, oh how ticklish those tiny flakes felt on my cheeks, and oh how they HURT when they get inside your eyes. Yes, snowflakes get inside your eyes and it is not a pleasant feeling. So, when you see a classic snowfall scene in a Hollywood chick flick where the female protagonist looks up towards the heavens, dear reader, please remind yourself that stunts you see on the movies should not be attempted by you.

They say the road to true love is bumpy. Well, in my case, it was sludgy. Snow, even in thin layers, can make footpaths a ridiculous slipping hazard even with your sturdy designer boots. It is actually probably safer to walk on a concrete lined asphalt road and having a few cars swerve around you. Perhaps ugly soccer boots are the way to go after all.

I was going to call it the end of my romance. But I guess it would have lacked closure so my dear meddling friend Wind decided to step in. Snow may have grace, but combined with wind, it is pure fury. It is like an onslaught of tiny needles out to attack you. They are no ordinary army – they are a truly seasoned one, inciting sensations of pain even on your very numb skin.

Squishing the flakes of hopes and dreams with my boots like a million tiny snails, I walked home, dejected. Our affair ended even before it had a chance to blossom. There’d be no bittersweet memories, save the tiny flakes deposited all over my head and overall. As I walked into my cosy apartment musing over the mementoes of the lost passion, reality struck me: snow melts, leaving a pile of damp dirty laundry. Like all failed relationships.

The writer now understands why people find it shocking when a pretty woman has a cold heart. The writer should also really  get back to studying.