“It has made me better, loving you.”, she said.
His heart was heavy, it felt like it had been tugged to an anchor and was now drowning.
Everything in his life had been a mess, like a whirlwind of the worst possible problems just hit him out of nowhere. He was losing hope, happiness and most importantly himself.
She could see it, little pieces of him chipping away, like a washed up boat struck on the shore.
“It is alright you know, take your time. Somebody wise once told me- Together we will sail through the best winds.”
He nods and hangs up so that he could burst into tears alone.
She doesn’t call him back.
It is scary really, to see someone you know like the back of your hand feel so lost.
To not be able to breach the hurricane and pull them out.
To just wait, watch and pray.
After some four odd hours she calls him again, armed with the cringiest jokes.
He is listening to music.
That’s good right?
Absolutely not.
Because that is all he is listening to. Music. Nothing else.
After fifteen minutes she tries to talk to him again. He responds.
“What are you listening to?”
“Wellerman by Nathan Evans.”
A week ago, when everything was happier and we were on a google meet he made me listen to it.
He was extremely excited about it thinking I hadn't heard it beforehand.
“Have you heard this one as well?”
“Everyone with a social media account has, you dork.”
After some whining he remarks,” But it is good right?”
“Yes, very wholesome to hear a bunch of guys singing melodiously about butchering a whale.”
“Why, just why are you like this?”
“Um, because you like it?”
He then proceeds to show me 6 different versions of the same shanty.
A week later when I look back at this memory I almost forget that we were fighting that day.
It is funny how until a day is over, there is always a chance that we will remember it for something else.
“Hello? Did you zone out?”
“What? Nothing. Do you want to hear a joke?”
“Not really.”
That night he listened to music till four and slept.
A lot of things had gone wrong that day and it was just the beginning of what was to come.
But if there could be a wellerman coming for people busy killing whales.
I was pretty sure we had one coming too.
The night of wellerman will forever be etched in my memory, just like salt in the sea I will carry it everywhere with me.
Everything is changing for the worse for him.
Sometimes I think that if I could be his lighthouse while he was stuck in his hurricane, maybe he would find his way out.
But it doesn’t work that way.
You can’t save people.
Even if “people” is a guy who held you like a seashell and listened to your heart.
Who noted down your favorite things as if they were his new bible.
Who is the poetry when others are mere words, who is the sky when everything else is just the weather.
All you can do is hope.
Afterall in the waves of change, people find their new direction.
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