Since the day he was born, man always chases something. First toys, then achievements, life, youth, and in the end, he wants to run into the arms of time. Already, while chasing an unknown future, with life's paths being so uphill, I also dared to tire myself on your paths.
When I think about it, it feels strange. I treat a woman whose name I don't know, whose gaze I've never seen, whose scent I've never felt, like life. Just as I have no idea what will happen tomorrow on life's paths, I have no idea about tomorrow on your paths either. Well, yesterday was also tomorrow, and I never tried to change anything. While our lives are a collection of tomorrows, we stubbornly burden ourselves with countless tomorrows. This cycle never ends.
Speaking of tomorrow, tomorrow I will leave a slice of cheesecake on the bench where I always leave my letters. When the time comes, I would really like to write to you or perhaps tell you face to face why I did such a thing. But for now, I choose to keep this information in my lines. I hope a small slice makes you happy.
With love, Ethan..."
I was adding one more letter to the pile of letters I excitedly wrote but never received a response to. I never got tired of writing, and someone never got tired of reading these letters. Maybe no one was reading these carefully written lines. Maybe they had become the joy of children who found a piece of paper lying on a bench in the park. For someone, it had become a plane, for someone else a letter, or even trash. But for me, they were invitations written to a woman who would change my life. Although I didn't know who that woman was or where she was.
Again, I got ready in my most elegant way and set off towards the park, which had become my second home. On the way, I carefully watched the people passing by, occupying my mind with the question, "Could it be her?" Who knows what kind of stories the people we passed by without ever meeting had. Maybe we passed by people who would be good for us in our lives in a hurry and would leave this life without ever knowing each other. The hearts that should unite, the souls that belonged to each other would never meet.
Thinking about hundreds of people along the way, I reached the park. There was no one around again. While the laughter of children playing filled the park, I also carefully examined the balconies of the nearby buildings. There was no one watching me, no one wondering if I was there. I took the envelope smelling of violets out of my pocket and placed it on the bench along with the cheesecake box in my hand. I thought a lot about waiting there, but maybe fate didn't want it that way. I continued on my way.
This was the fourth month since I started writing this letter, the fourth month of memorizing this path. For four months, I had been taking steps with the awareness that this could last for years, determined not to give up. What excited me was that my letters were not in the place I left them. Even though they got lost in uncertainty...
I was now in front of the apartment building where I lived. I stood in front of the huge building and looked at the houses behind the lit windows. Behind the colorful curtains lay experiences, happenings, and things that would happen. Maybe people were hiding their happiest or saddest moments from others behind those curtains. But those lights were always on as if everything was fine.
My neighbors were very quiet, living in their own way. The neighbor I lived on the same floor with was one of the retired directors. Although he wanted to direct many films for years, things didn't go as he hoped, and in the end, he chose to be a spectator of his own life movie. Whenever I felt bad, whenever despair fell over me like a dark cloud, I would go to him. He would tell me about his life, the difficulties he faced, and that would calm me down. When I returned to my home, which was just a step away, I would sink back into sorrow because there was no other difficulty I could compare my own with.
I took a deep breath over my thoughts. I took a big step towards the apartment door. Just at that moment, a hand on the back of my neck startled me as I heard "Ethan?" A very elegant, clean, and overly friendly man, judging by the hand on my neck, stood in front of me. Just seconds ago, I was so captivated by my thoughts that I didn't even notice the very modern, shiny car that had arrived next to me.
"It was a sudden encounter, Ethan. I hope you have time for me."
I had no idea who the owner of this confident, deep voice was. I looked at him with curious eyes. "Who are you, and how do you know me?" I asked.
It was obvious that my questioning look was noticeable. He noticed too, as he straightened his elegant clothes and continued speaking:
"I don't like taking people's time, Ethan. I also don't like spending time with people. But it seems some rules need to be broken today for both of us."
"I like spending time with people, but I don't like people taking my time. If you won't speak more clearly and answer my question..."
"You were like this when you were a kid too, Ethan."
This was a sentence that increased the world's rotation speed. I hadn't taken anyone from my past, especially from my childhood, along the path I was walking on. Actually, no one wanted to come. For years, I lived my life as if I was always 32, trying not to remember the time before that.
"Now, will you just spend a little time with me?"
I was defeated by my curiosity. I indicated for him to come with me by pointing to the big door. No one spoke until we reached the 3rd floor. This silence continued in my living room as well. While sitting on the not-so-soft green couches, I started scrutinizing this stranger, waiting for an explanation. The sparkle in his eyes, the smile on his face didn't remind me of my childhood at all. The silence was beginning to break:
"The mood of the house tells it all. You have built a world for yourself in a modern city, away from people."
He paused. Then he continued speaking.
"I know you are wondering who I am and why I am here. You are very right to hate the ghosts of the past. Because we left you alone, Ethan."
"What you are saying doesn't give me any clues. Who are you really?"
"I'm Maxwell..."
Two words, one sentence..
The events..
That car..
The memories..
Him..
The sparkle in his eyes had turned into a cruel black, just like that night. The tear forming in his eye was struggling not to fall. The inquisitive and long-restrained look was fixed on me.
Maxwell had changed a lot. That little boy was now an adult and ready to do what he couldn't do as a child.
To question... Now he could learn all the truths.
I got up and started walking silently in the room. When I realized that my legs couldn't carry my body anymore, I leaned on the table and lowered my head.
"You've changed a lot, Maxwell."
"I have changed, Ethan. I have been looking for you for years. I visited city hospitals, prisons, I looked everywhere you could go. But I..."
"You just never came to me. As a matter of fact, I never left myself."
My old friend was looking at me as if he had been expecting this. I was wondering how he found me.
"As I was passing by the junk dealer, I saw a picture frame in the window. When I realized the person in the photo was you, I went inside. After a little examination, I read the writings on the back of the frame. It indicated this address, and I did this 2 years ago."
As soon as he finished his sentence, he got up to leave and headed towards the door. It was very clear that he was expecting a reaction from me, but I chose silence, as I did years ago.
As Maxwell approached the door, the question "Will I ever see him again?" started to bother me already. The contradiction between mind and logic was endless.
"Just today... Just today, before I met you, I left a cheesecake on a bench."
A bittersweet smile appeared on his face, along with his piercing gaze. He quietly left through that door. I had even forgotten the silence of my old friend. The clothes he wore, the car he drove made him seem like a completely different person. Maybe this was our last farewell to each other after years. There would be things we forgot, there were things we forgot. But the smile on his face, even if it was bittersweet, told me one thing. Maxwell had not forgotten the taste of that cheesecake...