TINY LITTLE MEMORIES

“See, what you don’t understand is that all this is historic for me. Its all very well for you to think it to be juvenile and silly because you probably do stuff like this everyday. But me? I never do things like this. I never get the freedom or the opportunity or even the privacy to do something FUN!! Something just for me.”

He visibly softened at my words. Then rolling his eyes, he said,”Fine! Lets do it. But I bet you couldn’t last two days without your soft toys and your laptop.”

I grinned up at Ben and challenged, “You’re on!”…

 

One week later, I was sitting at the railway station, reluctantly awaiting the train which would bring with it the end of my adventure. In other words-my parents.

After I had accidentally, but fortunately, stepped on the train to Venice alone rather than the train to Hampshire with my parents, I had been on the run. From Venice to Prague and finally to Berlin.

As soon as I had realized that I was on the wrong train and that it was moving, I had called up my parents to let them know that I had decided to spend my time apart from them enjoying my life and my short-lived freedom.

They, like any other parents,had gone on and on about my safety and protection and the so-called dangers of the real world. But I had simply disconnected the line, after promising to meet them a week later on our returning train to London.

Oh and I casually dropped in the fact that I had met this friendly photographer on board, Ben, who too was on a trip through Europe.

I had mentally decided to make him my travel partner but I had conveniently forgotten to mention this particular thought to my parents, to save both myself and them from the drama that would have followed.

 

Now I sat here while Ben was getting coffee for both of us. Tired of reading the same book again, I picked up Ben’s camera lying nearby and started flipping through the photos.

There I was, in the dimly lit auditorium of the rock concert, screaming with joy.

Click. Here I was again, wearing a ridiculous clown cap which covered nearly half of my face. Click. Me in a traditional Venitian outfit.

Those, I thought, were some of the best times of my life.

I sighed, trying to hold on to whatever was left behind…But tiny little memories were all that I could find.

These memories were like grains of sand. No matter how hard I tried, they managed to escape my hand.

I was losing them and it was happening all too fast. This moment would be one too, but one that would always last.

“What did you just say?”

I looked up to see Ben standing there, a cup of coffee in each hand. I quickly blinked back the tears that I hadn’t even realized had escaped.

“Uh…nothing!” I squeaked, mentally kicking myself for thinking out loud yet again.

“That didn’t seem like ‘nothing’ to me”, he said sitting down on the bench next to me and handing me a cup. Taking a sip from his own, he nodded in the direction of the camera. “What have you got there?”

“Oh nothing really. Just tiny little memories”, I said.

He raised his eyebrows at my unusual choice of words but otherwise said nothing.

“I remember that one”, he said gesturing towards the screen of the digital camera. “When you nearly pulled me into the Danube. Fully clothed. All the Euro notes in my pocket got soaked. I was awake all night drying them.”

I muffled a snort at his martyred expression and clicked on ‘next’.

“That was when you tried to lift up all the shopping bags yourself and nearly collapsed under the staggering weight of them all,” I mused.

“They must have weighed atleast thirty kilogrammes”, he groaned.

“No they did not!”, I replied in mock horror.

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

I quickly pressed ‘next’ to stop the bickering.

The next photograph showed a group of people sitting around a bonfire. If you looked close enough you could tell I was one of them too.

“Hey!”, Ben said smacking my elbow-nearly dislodging it in the process too-“remember those mean caravanners who refused to give us food?”

“What are you talking about?”, I said distractedly, busy massaging my wounded elbow.

“That Jack guy? Who said he didn’t trust us?”

“As far as I remember Ben, he said he didn’t trust YOU. Me, he completely relied on.”

“What do you mean?”, said Ben dazed.

“I mean to say that he offered me food. And I took it. And I ate it. And, for the record, it was delicious!”

“But-but-why would he do that?”, Ben seemed lost. I was almost sorry for him. But then again, he DID nearly dislodge my elbow.

“I don’t know”, I said flicking my hair off my shoulder,”maybe he was trying to impress a pretty girl…or something.”

“Which pretty girl?”, asked Ben in mock innocence.

Now it was my turn to try and dislodge his elbow as he smartly ducked down laughing.

My you-just-insulted-me-and-i-don’t-really-appreciate-that-mister look couldn’t last long either as a reluctant smile spread across my face.

“Just shut up and click on next!”

He did as I told.

Both of us were silent as we took in the next photograph.

It showed the both of us tied together by a rope as we got ready for bungee jumping over the Vlatava river.

Click. The next was of us in the Gondola in Venice. Click. The next was us singing “Time of our Lives” in the Karoake Pub of Prague. Click. The next showed just me outlined against the sunset. Click. The next was of Ben in the foreground of the Venetian sunrise.

One by one the pictures zoomed past and one by one the tears rolled down.

Us crashing the Italian wedding, the French restaurant where we dined and dashed, the Spanish masquerade ball we attended.

I’ll always remember, those nights, days and noons. They lasted forever…yet ended so soon.

As we reached the end of the slideshow, both of us felt the change in the air between us.

Ben looked up at me and went all warily-“So how are you doing?”

For the second time in the past hour, I blinked back tears as I looked at him. “My joie de vivre is slightly dampened, but otherwise I’m doing ok.”

“Right. Is that why you’re crying? Because you’re ok?”

“You noticed.” I seemed to state more than question.

He just shrugged in a I-thought-it-was-obvious sort of way. And in a testament to the bad timing that had plagued me throughout my life, a voice overhead announced-

“This is the last boarding call for all the passengers travelling on the London Express.”

I stood up, my legs quivering in the process. Ben stood up too and handed me my bags and belongings.

“So…I guess this is goodbye huh?”, he asked at length, trying really hard to smile.

I didn’t even bother trying.

As a reply, I just leaned forward and hugged him. Tightly. He hugged me back, both of us relinquishing the tiny little memories of the past week.

As we pulled back from the too-long-for-a-friendly-embrace, my tears started rolling down my cheeks incessantly.

I smiled at him one last time and with a heart so heavy that it seemed impossible to take even a step further, I started walking away.

“Anna!!”

I stopped, sure that if he so much as whispered my name one more time, I would never be able to get on that train.

And I would never be able to forgive myself even if I did.

I slowly turned around, afraid of what was coming next.

“Uh…uhmm…”, he seemed to not know what to say-or maybe how to say it. He wound his fingers through his hair and then dropping his arms to his side, shrugged and said-“Do you think we’ll ever meet again?”

I closed my eyes for a moment. A moment too long.

A force stronger than gravity, then,  pulled me towards him. I was close enough to look into his eyes deduce his distress. In contrast, my own were like the calm before the storm.

Standing on my tiptoes, I reached up to him and kissed him on his cheek.

As I backed away from one, Benedict William Herde, I heard myself say, more to myself than to him-

“I know we will, Ben. I know we will.”

__END__