I remember back then when I decided to stay happy and follow people’s advice to “not be depressed.”
I was around 21 when I first came across Molly. She was so marvelous that when I told my mother about her, she labeled me crazy and that I was hallucinating again.
This is a preview of my “Molly,” which I’ve been working on lately.
Note: This is an old post. Molly has been completed now, and you can request the free epub on my email: email@example.com. You can also buy the book with free delivery, and support me.
Like any beautiful incident in our very pathetic lives, this was one that changed my world.
Her bright blue eyes were a rare sight, and her smile was like a cool breeze on a summer day, when it hits your sweaty chin.
I was in the metro, going home, standing amid crowded passengers. Although I barely see my phone when I am outside, I was nervous that day, so I kept locking and unlocking and locking again. It has been so long I was called to a party, and with that sense of attire, I would not blame my classmates for never inviting me again. My red crocs and denim capris were a dangerous choice for a party already. And, with a loose t-shirt to conceal my love-handles, I managed to catch eyes.
I was persistent, taking the phone out of my shorts and putting it back in, almost continuously. My mama said it was a sign of depression. But what could I do, it was not voluntary, and the moment I realized what I was doing, a couple set of glares were already staring me down.
I don’t usually sit in the metro, I like seeing passing buildings and parks from the window, but I somehow got one, and for no reason, I sat down. Perhaps I was too uneasy to realize what’s going on.
My mama believed I hallucinate because my medication worked more than it was prescribed for. But it kept me from hurting myself, so we all went along with a dead hope that someday a better cure would come out.
I once saw naked women in my bedroom and some rotten lemmings inside our fridge before I screamed and ran towards the balcony to jump.
There are no lemmings for about 5000 kilometers from my home.
I was lucky my brother was around. He pulled me in, slapped across my cheekbones, and hugged me tightly. I was yelping with tears and breaths. Depression is a harsh reality. It is never easy to deal with.
I was homeschooled because of my sufferings. So, it was natural for me to get scared of parties like this. Or at least that’s what my mama told me before she dropped me at the station.
I don’t know why I’d feel this way, though. I was born without a dad, and my mother worked her ass off to raise my brother and me. And I practically lived alone since he died.
Why I felt nervous?
Maybe it’s the air, I’m not used to that.
“Next station is Rajiv Chok, …” the PA announcer or her recorded voice began as I wiped a drop of a tear under my glasses.
I wanted friends, needed friends. For why I’d even go to such silly interactions (parties).
Suddenly I felt a power break as my skull bumped to the backglass where I was sitting, and it was the beginning of my new life.
Her legs were shining, and she was looking stunning in that yellow dress.
I could not see Molly, she was facing the other side, standing far across me. Her blouse was cropped and tight. And her hairs were tied in a bun, but I could tell she was curly like me.
I placed my bag on the seat and walked almost 2 meters to approach her. I was shaking before (with the idea of the party), one could only imagine my state of awkwardness when I offered her my seat. At least 5 people were standing between her and me. Yet I walked all the way to her.
There was muffled laughter around us and then a long pause. I was worried someone would take that seat, and it was apparent that the girl would not accept my offer. I seemed slightly creepy to her, and she can’t be blamed.
But she smiled and walked towards my seat. She took my bag, sat down, and settled that bag over her lap.
It took me a full minute to respond, I was lost in her smile.
“Thank you,” I felt an emotional boner. Never ever, a beautiful girl smiled at me before.
Her face was dusky, and her eyes were kind. But it was her smile that encaged my heart. Do I hear heartbeats running wild? I asked myself as I stared at her chest, still standing in front of where she was sitting.
I thought I could listen to her heartbeats, and dear God, “They are beautiful,” I said that out loud in a softened voice.
She noticed it and passed me a glare of disgust while concealing herself with my bag.
I was too embarrassed to apologize. The girl’s face was now red, and I realized something. They were my “racing heartbeats,” which soon slowed down with shame and embarrassment.
And I felt cold, realizing I was full of sweat. My heart was going numb.
Is that embarrassment still? She called out to me, and so did a dozen people around me. Down I fell.
I probably forgot to take medicines and managed to raise my blood sugar levels somehow. I could feel someone pressing my chest and giving me CPR as I vomited out.
That was the first time I met Molly.
Read Josh’s adventure in Encountering Ghosts in India.
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