Not a day passes without pronouncing his real name in my head.
I texted Mr. Sweater after a month of silence. My text was brief and light; meant to hide how intense I felt.
He's happy.
Me too.
*
The same day, texts from Guy 6. I give random numbers to the guys when I don't have a nickname to give. Also after silence. Silence because I didn't want to talk to him.
I responded anyway. Brief and light. Not to hide anything though. Nothing between the lines. Nothing felt either.
He asked about my career plan.
"Ready for post-doc?"
"No, not for now."
"Still up early in the morning to do your research?"
"No, I need to take a break."
"You're so good at it. It'd be a shame if you stop now."
"Not a shame, not a shame at all."
"So what do you want to do exactly?"
"Marcel Proust."
"Meaning what?"
"When I die I want to leave behind something Proust left to this world."
"So you want to become a writer. To write about this and that…"
"Shut up, would you? I'm far from what you think I am."
I was a bit rude. Just wanted to cut the Q&A. He's a professor (not my field). He was my date. I hated it when he talked to me as if I were a student. We used to sit in cafes, walk in Hutongs and dance at milongas. Our chats were never intellectually interesting, not enough to my standard. I was ok with those chats then.
He talks now as before. My feelings have disappeared. The chats haven't. That's the problem.
*
Mr. Sweater and I never dated.
He's not a friend to me either.
Communicating with him is never easy. I'm not talking about the language barrier though. The barrier is there. But it opens more than it blocks. It slows us down. Makes us choose fewer words, better ones. Makes us pay attention to what's underneath.
*
Not easy because I care.
I care about the way he puts together his sentences or breaks them apart.
Not easy because I wanted more of him and to give more of myself.
Not easy because, above all, neither of us is the easy type.
*
Later that day, we found out his last message sent a month ago came after I uninstalled Messenger and went missing.
I'd give the app a one-star rating for this disaster.
He resent it to me.
If I'd read it before, the app would've stayed. I would've stayed up.
What does he say?
If you see me bite my lower lip, smiling, you get one piece.
If you see my toes press the floor, hands slightly sweating, you get another.
If you see me suddenly unfocused among a bunch of friends, you get yet another.
......
What he says stays with me and only with me.
*
I have a concern though.
What if one day I feel nothing about him?
I'm surprised at myself worrying about it now.
Feelings come and go. Guys too.
I never thought about this "what if" before when my feelings were at peak or fading away. I don't think about it afterwards.
I have no idea why it concerns me now.
But even this concern is endearing to me.