“jangan lupa, kita saling mencintai.”
https://open.spotify.com/track/4dzRG1dWHna5Klwp8AByH7?si=vqdtACBFTCm3MwVBifF-dA
Beginning of March, 2024.
“The usual?”
Atlas nodded. Derian took a black bottle of whiskey from the top shelf, and then he poured a glass for the gentleman in front of him. “Here you go.”
“Alexa hasn’t called you yet?”
Derian shook his head. “I would’ve told you if she did, to be honest. Don’t worry, there’s a certain period of time in between when she just disappeared from the face of the earth for a week or two like this. She just spent her time with Nicholas, that’s all.”
The unexpected mention of that one name somehow bursted his bubble. Atlas was not one to hide his feelings, and he bet Derian had noticed his changing expression. “How long that has been going on?”
“As long as I could remember. There was almost no gaps in Alexa’s life that wasn’t filled with Nicholas, except when her mother passed away. Wait, I didn’t know if I’m cleared up to share this information with you, so when she told you this story later, please pretend you didn’t hear from me.”
Atlas raised his glass as he took another sip. His favorite Whiskey didn’t taste as good as usual, maybe it was his malfunctioning tongue, or maybe it was caused by Alexa’s absence and his aimless anger.
He didn’t necessarily get worried over a stranger he barely knew, but there was something unsettling about her unavailability. Especially when he knew she spent her time with Nicholas combined with the fact that Bianca knew about them had piled up another follow-up questions inside Atlas’ mind.
“Have you tried texting her?”
Atlas took out his phone and proceeded to show Derian his unanswered texts. “No dms, no imess. She just literally ghosted me.”
“She did that to everyone, so don’t worry. Maybe you’re not that special, Atlas.”
He scoffed at Derian’s answer. “Glad to know that.”
The bar was quite dead that night—no wonder, it was literally Wednesday. Derian chose slow jazz for his playlist tonight, and a couple who looked like they were on their 70s stood up and danced beside their table. Derian looked at them fondly before he decided to pop up a champagne and gave two complementary glasses for the couple.
It was our 51st anniversary, they said, and they told a story of how they met in a bar somewhere in downtown LA almost 52 years ago. This very bar reminded them of that one, so they decided to celebrate it here.
51 years together, and still they looked at each other in glistening eyes. Some people were just lucky like that.
Atlas recalled a conversation he once made with someone whose eyes were as warm—a conversation of dreams followed by promises, said by two naïve young men who had not yet tasted the bitterness of reality.