He stands and stares at her, he doesn't want to go inside, he is scared that she will vanish and they will never meet again. He doesn't want that, he calls himself stupid, hundreds of times.
Misha waves her hand in front of his face again. "I think you are nervous because of exam," she points a finger at his head, "don't worry yourself to a derelict," her eyes serious, she says, "Come on, go to the washroom and when you will come out, we will talk about our nervousness, it always helps, come on, go." She pushes him a little towards the door.
He opens the door, closes it leaning against it, breathing hard. He doesn't know what he did to deserve to meet her once again. He is so relieved and hurt he could cry, he hasn't cried in so long, he wants to he realises. Misha doesn't remember you. He repeats inside his head. She has a boyfriend.
It hurts so deep in him he doesn't know what to do. She promised him that she would come back, but like this? When she doesn't even remember his name?
He removes his gloves and goes inside the toilet and flushes again, and again, counting minutes. He doesn't want to meet her boyfriend, he thinks, but he has to, he decides, with a tug inside his heart. He has to see if she is happy or not. He has to see if the person she is with is not an asshole.
He has to try once, to make her remember, just once, he promises himself.
He washes his hands, looks in the mirror and breathes out loud, "You will do it." He moves his hand through his messy brown curly hair, and turns towards the door, before he can think and stop, he opens the door.
She hasn't evaporated; she is standing in the same spot and smiling at him. He doesn't know how he survived without seeing her smile, how he will, if she says the words he is so scared to hear.
"So," she says, "I forgot to ask you, which subject you are giving entrance for."
He looks at her and thinks, if she is the Misha she was, she will definitely roll her eyes, "Physics Honours."
"Oh." She grins. "I am going for Maths honours."
You used to hate maths and science.
He wonders, if he is meeting a ghost that looked like her.
But then she looks towards him and her eyes soften, and he can smell her, that fragrance of her that never goes away, she smells like a freshly made toffee and fruits indulged in chocolate and vanilla, she zip opens her bag, all tinsel, garlands, santa and baubles, and takes out a red foil wrapped chocolate from her bag and holds it out towards him.
And he thinks he is going to faint. It's the same chocolate that he bought her every other day, it's the same that he has stopped eating and hates even the image of.
"Please take this, it will help you."
His mouth becomes dry and he thinks please don't do this.
"Take this, please." And she takes his hand in her bubble blue gloves and drops the chocolate on his palm. The touch of cold red wrap on his hand is so distant and personal at the same time that the memories barge into his head.
'I got you this,' he had said holding the chocolate in his hand.
She had looked at him with small lashes and little pigtails, taken it from his hand without any hesitation and given him a crooked pink smile, "I love chocolates, thank you." She had said.
That's what he loved about her, he thinks, the way she knew what she wanted and the way she never gave it up.
"Now come on, let's sit somewhere," her voice interrupts his thought, "tell me which school you are from?"
He wraps his hand around the chocolate and takes a deep breath, the fog coming out of his mouth broken like his heart. "Day Star, you?"
"Night star." She jokes, and they start to move towards the left connecting corridor. "I actually went to Wynberg Mary School in Dehradun and Darshit went to The Brighton School, my boyfriend." She explains when he gives her a confused look. "Both of our family are from Manali so we are here for early winter break this year."
He stops in his tracks, his legs not getting the signal, he feels so confused he can't wrap his head around the things she have been telling him. Wasn't she supposed to be in Australia? Wynberg Mary School. Dehradun! What the actual hell? Was she playing games with him? Was she making a fool of him from the beginning? There were so many questions inside him, he feels like he would burst from them.
"The story of how we met is so funny," she continues without the knowledge that he feels like someone was throttling him and feeding him stones side by side, "I can't even explain, I mean we were rivals," she says, her voice excited and high in serotonin, "considering the fact that we both were the debate captains of our respective school teams, we didn't even talk to each other straight face. And one day on Christmas, his school was organizing an Annual Christmas Party, we usually aren't allowed to go, but that time our teachers wanted to have a party since our vacations were cancelled and our teachers were friends of his school teachers, so, all the seniors were allowed to go to this party and," she spins to him all twinkle eyed and smiling, and he curses Christmas Day from the pit of his gut to deepest part of hell. That fucking day again.
He hears himself saying, "I wish Christmas would never happen."
Her face turns befuddled; her brows knit together in a frown. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he says, very clearly, very slowly, and he doesn't like the tone of his voice when he says it, he can see the repercussion of it in her beautiful warm brown eyes turning glassy, but it's like he's not himself and therefore the words are out of his mouth, "I want Christmas to not happen, I hate it."
Her lips quiver, like a little child's. And she takes a step back from him.
He hates himself, he knows he is going to hate every inch of himself and he tries to stop, but his throat feels like a vending machine, like a button has been pushed and he won't be able to stop until, he spills out all the contents. "How amusing it is to hear the tail of your boyfriend and you. You pretending to be all cool and a stranger, have your father suddenly gave your permission to have a boyfriend? Or you are trying too hard to show the fact that you don't remember me? And what about Australia huh, was I that bad for god's sake?"
"What are you talking about?" her voice sounds shaky and confused, her eyes wide, "And how do you know I went to Australia?" With every word she says, she takes a step back. The clueless expression on her face looks so real, he would have believed her and doubted himself, if not for the memories that felt like roots in his brain and the photo he carried in the secret chain of his bag.[ro1]
Maybe he remembered too much. Maybe she mattered too much to him and he nothing to her.