Had stepped out last evening to indulge in a bit of stargazing. Mars, they said, was right next to the moon. Maybe it was. Not sure, if the bright red star just above the moon was the one. Either ways, I wanted to believe it, and get over with it.
He calls up from somewhere around OMR, asks me his usual, “’sup bro”.
“The sky.”
“Lovely tonight, ain’t it?.”
“Certainly.”
“Went to church? Oh, Merry Christmas, by the way.”
“You too. Yeah, just got back from there. Nothing great happening, not like the good old days.”
“What good old days?”
“Remember St. Mary’s in Dubai?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“It’s funny, I remember asking Father Daniel not to ask the girls to stop wearing deep necks and sleeveless to church.”
“Oh, did you? (laughs) What did he say?”
“Shrugged, and told me it’s church.”
“Lovely human, is Father Dan.”
“Absolutely.”
“Remember the crib we made?”
“Hell, yeah. And I asked Father Dan then too, while spraying those cotton snowflakes, how could Jesus be born in deep winter, because the Bible says that shepherds were outdoors at night with their flocks.”
“Luke?”
“Eeeeeeeeyup.”
“What did Father Dan say?”
“Said he was impressed that a non-Catholic’s knows his Bible.”
“And?”
“And that’s it. Surely, he knows, he’s just a mysterious man. I didn’t want to press it either.”
“True.”
(silence)
“Sup?”
“The sky.”
“It’s lovely, bro.”
“Mars looks like it’ll plant a celestial kiss tonight. On the moon, of course.”
“Hmm, don’t think there’ll be any outer-space collisions. Those Alien STC bastards are nice.”
“STC?”
“Space Traffic Controllers.”
“Oh, okay.”
“You know, like the air-traffic ones in space who - ”
“Dude, I got it.”
“Okay. Sandman, what’s with you bro? Mars kissing the moon? No profanity? You’ve been skygazing? All okay?”
“Yeah, I am. And hey, I love looking at the stars. You know me, I’m a Centaur.”
“As much as I am. Firenze was hotter though.”
“Firenze? Yeah, but he had filthy teeth, probably brushed them every time Halley’s comet went past him.”
“They see Mars better than you do.”
“I see it myself, bro, there she is, a bright shining red.”
“Here we go again. What’s wrong with you man?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
“But you’re right, it looks beautiful in red.”
“Well, not as beautiful as someone I know.”
(silence) He wasn’t sure what to say. After about three minutes, “Hey!”
“Yeah.”
“Sands?”
“Yeah?”
“’sup, bro.”
Yeah, what was up after all? Why am I being so stupidly romantic? Poetic? Am I in love? Or is it just an infatuation? Or am I still stuck in the trench of the October sorrow? Will someone tell me what the fuck is happening with me? I didn’t know what to tell the guy on the other side of the phone, so I just looked up at the carpet of blue.
“The sky.”
