Jemma’s eyelids were heavy with sleep and her body fatigued and aching after a day full of melancholic news and sorrowful goodbyes. The topography of her life was going to change forever, in a mere seven hours. Reality was setting in in its entirety, more heavily than it had prior to this day. Now, as her breathing became even and she was slipping into a literal dreamland, her loss was on her mind. Simon, her best friend was going off to war. Neither of them knew when, if, they’d see each other again. Her support system, her only constant was going away. Who was going to advise her, constantly criticise and laugh with her? Perpetually losing that which she had had since she was six was bad enough, but really, she was losing all that she ever had.
It was the first thought that came to her as she woke up. He was gone. And, soon, this bedroom, the house in whose eastern corner it sat, and the tiny garden outside with its gnarled old red hibiscus and the half-grown mango tree they had planted together, all those would be gone as well. It was the strangest feeling ever.
The place had been been ridden of Simon’s furniture, so she had brought a sleeping bag and her things down here and had decided to spend a couple of days before the new owners arrived. Here, in this very house, she had spent innumerable nights filled with laughter, deep and long conversations, midnight feasts and memories that nothing, not even the wealth of the world could replace. In this abode she found her peace, her delight, elation and her comfort. Here she was herself, confident and undeterred, pricelessly content with life, not worrying about the buts and ifs that life brought along on occasion.
She opened her duffel bag and withdrew a jar of gummy bears.
* * *
She was paralysed for two weeks after the arrival of the news. Emotionally, and almost physically – all activity in her life had ceased; everything had come to a standstill. An overwhelming feeling of uninterrupted isolation had made itself at home in her psyche, like an uninvited stubborn relative disagreeing on leaving. Indescribable was her reaction to the decease of her friend – she felt like a half-dead leaf, frozen in a block of ice. She wept for days and days, reminiscing the myriad of memories made and years shared. Her face was an expressionlessly white sheet with streams and smears of the palest blue-white liquid of bereavement pouring out of her eyes, marking her as a victim of loss.
She was discombobulated for quite a while, and what scared her was that in the blink of an eye one could be estranged from the joys of life and the bonds of love that gave existence its worth. She knew she had to move on, but the pain was glued into her heart, with multiple layers of tape securing it. Not one was there to understand her grief; she was all by herself. She felt within, an absence so strong, a chord tugged her towards what she could not have, that which she wanted – needed – terribly… A crevasse had opened up inside her, one that could be filled solely with euphoric laughter and enchanting beatitude. That, she would only find when she decided to let go of this permanent routine of mourning and got over that which there is not even an accurate description for – her loss so great she did not remember how to function.
Simon’s picture hung in her house, with not a garland of flowers around it, as is the Indian tradition, but a wreath of wrapped chocolates which were loved by Simon. She had kept some of his things, mostly the ones cherished by him and those of high monetary or historical value. It had been seven weeks since she had done anything productive, or even stepped outside the confines of the house, so she decided to go for a walk. Outdoors, leaves blew in the wind as she quickly walked out of the house, the door slamming shut behind her.
* * *
The unfathomably absurd contents of an invitation that she received three months later stunned her into silence for a good five whole minutes and plunged her into confusion for a whole day, till she received a letter from Serah the very next day. Her life had more or less returned to its older, ordinary version, but then an invitation to Serah’s wedding arrived. Serah and she had been very close friends when they were in college, but later Serah had moved to New Jersey while the now puzzled Jemma had stayed in London. She had always regarded the idea of Serah getting married as extremely weird, but that’s not what boggled her mind – more accurately, Jemma was filled with a horrifying bewilderment, for the groom was none other than her supposedly dead best friend Simon. Yes, it could have been any other Simon Glowell, but enclosed was a picture of Serah and Simon, titled ‘Forever and Beyond’.
For the next twenty four hours she was immersed in a pool of worry and wonder. How could Serah be marrying Simon !? Simon – who was dead? She was eating her brains out with anxiety by the time the letter arrived:
Dear Jemma,
It has been long since we have spoken, and I have missed you very much. I last met you eight years ago, and I wonder if you are still the way you were back in them good old days. You must have received my invitation to my wedding with Simon. I didn’t even know that you two were so close until we spoke of sending out invitations. He then narrated to me the story of his life up until we met. That’s when it struck me that his best friend Jemma was you. There is a lot to explain, I know, he knows, and so do you… Oh, where do I begin?
Till now, you have thought him to be dead, as everyone in his former life has, and now we just pop an invite to our wedding – I know how abrupt and unexplained it all is, but give us a chance. After Simon left London, he did go to war, and he fought bravely. Soon, he became one of those who were at the top of the enemy’s kill list, and things were getting bad, really bad. The rivals were aware of his all his details, and if he were to return, he would quickly be discovered and you would be in danger as well. So, to protect himself and all the others that would have got caught in the crossfire, he decided to build a new life, a new identity. He needed to go underground for a while. All the invites have his new name Glen Blackwood on them – except yours, so that you could recognise him. I know how cinematic this sounds, but it’s all true. Glen would never have wanted to do this to you, to make you believe he was dead, but faking his death was the only way out. When I showed him the letter you wrote to me after his ‘death’, and all the pain it contained, he broke down. He felt terrible for doing this to his best friend, she , for whom he had always been there, but he claimed there was no way to contact you.
I sincerely hope you understand the circumstances Glen acted under, and try to forgive him. You must be overjoyed to learn that he is alive, but also feel wronged because of this deception, and I completely get it. I don’t really know what else there is to say, apart from the fact that I hope you will reply to this letter. More importantly, I hope to see you at our wedding. We shall be honoured and elated to have you there.
With love,
Serah.
The letter of explanation was unbelievable and, as Serah said, extremely cinematic. It sounded almost like a movie Jemma had watched the other day. But, then again, there could easily be some truth to it, and that was exactly what she wanted to know. Also, if Simon was still alive, even by the name of Glen, she wanted to see him!
* * *
The suitcase lay open, a collection of shoes, clothes, bags and accessories spilling out of it. There was still a lot more she had to pack… After all, she had a wedding to attend!
* * *
Soaring through the clouds, high up in the sky, all Jemma had thought about was meeting Simon, who was ‘back from the dead’. He was there to pick her up from the airport. He looked the same, apart from a few cuts on this left arm. The moment she caught sight of him, she left her bags and ran towards him, embracing him. She didn’t even know what to say, but what was there to say? She had got her best friend back!
Chromatic Aberration 
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