“This one should last for three years. It’s an original one and you’ll have no much problems using it.” He handed the pack to me.
We had both heard the same words two years earlier
Charles and I,
when we purchased the previous -now weakened- battery for his smartphone on that fateful afternoon, before that day of much joy and celebration.
The day of his wedding.
I left for the ward and dropped the pack on the cupboard beside his bed when I got there.
He stared at it blankly as I sat down.
And the endless minutes crept on.
“You remember the last time we bought this?” I broke the silence.
“Yes. I guess you’ve noticed the coincidence“. He turned to me. “You know, after our quarrel at the pool -when it was already certain that were going to break up- my phone went flat for the umpteenth time as I tried to call you. As I made a mental note to get a new battery pack, the realization struck me and I felt a gob of shame. My marriage couldn’t outlive the lifespan of a battery.”
I recalled that day. Not too long ago.
And the next day, that had brought him to this bed,
when I received the distress call from the hospital.
They had gotten into a heated argument while he was driving and in a heat of fury she had lunged at him. He lost control of the vehicle and they crashed into a culvert. She had been in coma at the ICU, while he was confined here.
He turned his gaze to the window, peering at the rays of the sun.
“You know, Sophia and I only saw the lights. That was perhaps the cause of our problems.”
I smiled ruefully; I understood.
We had both hotly debated that line from Paul Coelho in a discussion few months before his wedding. That line, which the experiences of the past two years had shown to be true.
I was to recall that line over a year later, when their marriage was finally dissolved by the court.
“Love is a trap. When it appears, we see only its light, not its shadows.”
I learn lessons and I tell stories…