SubscribeI got his call as I was going out the door. "I'm on my way," I said, trying to figure out an effiecient way to close the gate, while holding the phone in one hand and the stroller on the other.
Van was gone for more than a week. He stayed at a friend's house in Central while I remained in hell. Yes, 'hell' seems to be the most appropriate term for this room. He told me that he was going back Sunday. At midnight, I got his call asking me to meet him at the bus stop that was a good 15-minute walk from our quarters.
I tried to tidy up the room as much as I could. But it was no use. All I did was merely relocate the mess to another corner. I gave up and grabbed the stroller. I had a feeling he'll need it for his luggage.
A few minutes later, I saw him walking aimlessly towards the MTR station, he got off two blocks away and I was going to meet him there. I called out his name and he turned to me with the look of a resigned man. Heavy shoulders and lonely eyes, he managed to smile before he let go of the bag and plopped it on the wheeled metal tray. The mood reminded me of when Holden went back to his home in The Catcher in the Rye and only his sister Phoebe saw him. They should have been excited as hell but under the circumstances, there was a bigger issue at hand. And for us, it was going back to an awfully cramped space and I know I promised I won't ever complain about it again.
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| A welcome post from Van as well. |
So we walked and talked. It's not as if we haven't talked for a long time but it was more meaningful and a tinge hopeful. Anyways, I meant to keep this short. I just wanted to let him know that much as I enjoyed having the room for myself for the last ten days, I'm glad you're back in hell, roomie. Coffee tomorrow?
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