Deflated Balloons
By Janika Walcott (Bridgetown, Barbados)
“Happy Birthday!!! ”, the text read, illuminating the electronic screen, as my mother parted another row of never-ending braids in my hair. It was exactly twelve in the morning, and instead of focusing on how sleep-deprived I’ll be later, I was smiling at the simple fact he remembered my birthday. “He” was the boy I met at the beginning of secondary school, who was obsessed with donuts, anime, music and drama club- all things I learned during our daily conversations at school and, after, online. Newly 12 year old me didn’t know what to do with all the feelings that I had for him, but she convinced herself that he would be her best friend forever.
In a month's time, we were walking to every class together, talking to each other for the entirety of lunch and he even convinced social anxiety-ridden me to join drama club. Every romance song reminded me of him, every book reminded me of him, everything reminded me of him, and I couldn’t be happier with that. It was only until he said “ I love you” that the entire dynamic of our relationship changed. “ Platonically, right ? ”, I questioned calmly, though I was freaking out in my mind. “No”, he admitted, in a tone which implied that it was obvious. It was either the pure shock being expressed on my face or my loss for words, but after the world’s longest 10 seconds of silence, he smoothly changed the subject, and we never talked about the “ l word ” again.
Quite frankly, we didn’t talk about a lot of things after that, because the “love” he had for me was short-lived. Within a month or two we began to drift apart. Talking every other day, sometimes every other week, and these conversations weren’t the usual joy filled one’s either- they were dry and aching, as both of us tried to hold on to the memory of what was once there. As if we, in our minds, didn't want to let go of everything that we were supposed to be. We walked to a couple classes together, he would try to be interested in my hobbies and I in his; we tried. However, one evening as I procrastinated to begin physics homework, my phone buzzed, his name appeared, and a text reading "Hi" popped up. Of course it was missing the two extra i’s, they had been gone for a while now. I responded nonetheless. The next text I received pained me to read, as the ocean began to form in my eyes. “I’m not sure if you heard already, but I’ll be switching schools next term”. I didn’t even know what to say- how do you even reply to that? All I could muster up within thirty minutes was “Really?”
Turns out that he was serious. We hugged one last time on the last day of school while promising each other that we’ll always talk and when we are older, and he has his driver’s license, we’ll go out sometime. Empty promises. Two months had passed and after that, we never talked again. Each day a new memory would fade, yet I would still try to think about all that we could've been. All up until the following January. My birthday was the next day, and all I could seem to do was hope that I’ll get the usual birthday message from him, to let me know that he still remembers me, like I remember him. So I waited.
12:00 am- Still no text.
1:00 am- He might be busy.
2:00 am- He doesn’t remember me, does he?
3:00 am- I should probably go to bed now.
I went to bed, woke up at 8:00 am and checked my phone instantly. My notifications were full, but none of them were from him, so did they even matter? It was only at 1:26 pm when my phone alerted me of a new notification, with his name, and a text reading “Happy Birthday.”
