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Burning clues.

October 31, 2010    |    0 COMMENT(S)

She never expected to see him last night, in fact she never expected to see him ever again. She was relieved she was all dressed up and pretty, something that probably surprised him, but at least it fell under the category of a "pleasant surprise." It was the ideal meeting of exes: boy looks surreptitiously miserable, girl is having fun in her red heels. The only problem was it was him who had a five-foot-seven glamazon of a woman whose mile-long legs wrapped themselves possessively around his at they sat in the bar.

It was a bit awkward. But at least they were both mature enough to greet each other and say hi. Oh, you know, with all the pleasantries they can go without but had to say to prove who was more over it. The usual. His date left to get themselves drinks, giving her time to approach him somehow. And then the longest five seconds of silence in her life.

"So, I finally got to see Jeff Buckley live," she says to break the tension.

She remembered how she used to gush about Jeff Buckley back in college, almost always quoting his songs and writing down the lyrics on the margins of her Finance textbooks when she was bored in class. She didn't know exactly why she had to mention it; maybe it was her chance to tell him she's having a grand time without him, or maybe it was her subconscious final attempt at making him remember how much of herself she shared with him during their one-year-and-a-half whirlwind romance. Somehow, she was still justifying what happened -- perhaps it could've gone another way.

Maybe an inside joke would do it. It would cement what it was they had. If there were still numerous little things no one else knew that they could laugh about, then maybe there was still hope at continuing where they left off. Somehow inside her head, it was still him and her, just waiting for something to happen and set the fire burning again. Unfortunately she was under the impression that it was some 90s singer that would do the trick.

"Jeff who?"

She smiled. His date came back and he introduced them to each other. She excused herself and found her way to the other side of the dance floor, looking for her friends. Maybe he didn't hear her. The music was too loud at the bar anyway. But a huge part of her wanted to stop justifying him -- he didn't recognize Jeff Buckley. Even after all the times she loaded her CDs and mixtapes on the stereo, even after she insisted they dance to his songs on her sister's wedding. He never remembered.

She drove home later that night with her CD blaring on her speakers. Sometimes it's the best feeling in the world when a song just perfectly reflects what you're feeling; how its words encapsulate what you cannot say. But sometimes it can be the worst, knowing that the sad soul he's singing of is no one else but you.


Well, maybe it's just because I didn't know you at all.

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