The Colour of Amethyst A Story of two friends A boy torn between male and female identities and the girl who befriended him- (Conclusion)

Martin twirled the wedding ring on his finger, absent-mindedly as he waited patiently for his wife at their favourite restaurant. “She’s late again,” he grumbled, something that had become a routine for her on all occasions.

He had learned over the years to be patient and not complain, that staved off any tension that could have risen. Today they were meeting for a special lunch because it was his birthday with no party or dinner plans for he had to work late that night.
“Another milestone,” he mused, “Further and further away from where I had wanted to be.”
Promises of life like the autumn leaves, scattered by the winds, born again as the seasons change.
He sighed deeply and looked at the ring on his other hand, the gem, birthstone of Piscean, the colour of Amethyst. It was a birthday gift from his best friend, a very special person in his life but that was almost twenty-two years ago.
“Such a long time,” he thought, “I wonder where she must be now and what she has become.”
High school days, so close then and now so far, memories like vintage wine.
He had left when she had said ‘no’ to his marriage proposal, trying his utmost then not to feel hurt because she had over the years become his world. It had been difficult for him but he consoled himself with the thought that it was meant to be that way, a loss that gave him a stronger resolve to conquer life as a man, dreams drifting away, new plans to draw.
He had moved far away when she got married and it was there he found someone to share his life. A beautiful, intelligent, young woman from the same company he worked for and on the day of his wedding, he had said a silent ‘thank you’ to his friend who had helped him to find his way.
What she had done for him was beyond special, a selfless sacrifice that lived deep in his heart all those years, walking in the sunset.mau
“I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.”
He saw his wife as she entered the restaurant with their two pretty daughters and he rose to greet the three pretty women in his life, his family. An exulted feeling always filled his heart when they were together anywhere, for he knew he had something beautiful.
The birthday lunch was wonderful with the three people closest to him who had made him a husband and a father. If he had to look back to his life as a young man, the struggles and taunts he had to endure to today what he had gained in life it seemed like a miracle.
The one person he had to thank for that was not there with him but living her life someplace else, maybe with her own family.
The separate paths fate had designated for them.
Maria wrote that day, in her diary, a beautiful little poem for her friend’s birthday and standing at the window, she read it hoping the words would fly with the wind to find him, where-ever he was, just to say ‘Happy Birthday’.
She had over the years written little poems for all the beautiful moments in life, the rich blessings of motherhood, the sublimity of love and cherished memories of those gone to the beyond. Words became her secret companion, words gave her warmth and hopes, standing on the highest mountain, touching the passing clouds, looking at the world below, words – such infinite power.
Three more years went by, time an endless flow as the two friends thousands of miles apart lived their lives with their families, sharing, loving, and celebrating the successes of their children. They had not the time to ponder on the one missing part of their lives that may stay lost but life sometimes play a winning hand and the ace that won was an invitation from the old student’s association for a class reunion.
Maria read the invitation a few times before she could digest the fact that she would be seeing her classmates, old friends, after twenty five years.
“This is so great,” she exclaimed, excited.
Martin too could barely conceal his excitement and showing his wife the invitation, he said, “Isn’t this great?” I’ll be seeing my old classmates.”
She had never seen him this happy and she wondered if there was an old girlfriend he was anxious to see. Maria’s husband was not thrilled about the reunion, given his possessive trait, knowing what a popular girl she had been at school but this one time he could not hinder her because this social event was for her, her old school, her classmates.
That Saturday night was an unforgettable experience, the tears, laughter, and happiness, memories rekindled, stories told of their lives after high school.
Maria arrived late, delayed by an unexpected visit by one of her husband’s relatives and his uncaring insistence that she spend some time with them.
Martin was there from the beginning and two hours later, his hopes began to sink, that she would not be coming. He had looked at the door probably a hundred times and sighing deeply, he turned to the bar for a drink, the same time Maria walked in.
“Vodka on the rocks,” he ordered and was about to have his drink when a soft voice called his name, “Martin.”
That voice was a beautiful sound he had not heard in a long time and turning, he saw her standing there in a little blue dress, fair, petite, and pretty as he had known her. He looked at her stunned but she was smiling, a happy glow in her eyes and she said, “It’s so nice seeing you.”
Before he could say anything, she hugged him impulsively, the first time ever she was that close to him and holding her for a moment he said, “That’s a great welcome and I miss you too.”
They both had tears in their eyes, just looking at each other, not knowing what more to say and in the next moment, he lost her as her friends took her with them. It was a long time before she was free to talk to him again, sitting alone with him at a table, in a corner.
“I can’t believe I’m seeing you again,” Martin said happy beyond words, “Are you still married? Do you have children? What about your career, your dreams?”
The questions were tumbling over each other and Maria sipping a virgin Pina Colada looked at him and smiling she said calmly, “Take a deep breath and relax. We have time to talk.”
All night they chatted with friends, danced and talked until they were the only two people left, a night neither wanted to end, because tomorrow they would be walking again, separate paths.
“What happened to your ambition to be a lawyer?” he asked her.
“There was a crisis in my family and I gave up my dreams to support them.”
“Always making sacrifices for others,” he said with a wry smile, “And what about your life? What have you gained?”
“Not much,” she replied casually, as though it didn’t matter, “My children became the richness of my life so I now dream for them, not me.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then taking her hand, he kissed it, deep admiration in his eyes, “You are indeed special, in my eyes there is no other like you.”
His words were like a soft glowing ember that ignited a warmth through her body and she felt a touch of happiness that had been missing from her life, just sitting there talking with him.
“I’m so sorry we have to say good-bye again,” she said, a sad look in her eyes.
“No,” he shook his head, “Not after twenty five years, we can’t. We both have families we love but we will stay in touch because as friends we share something that is unique.”
“I like that,” she said, smiling again, having found again, that wonderful person she had gave up with whom she shared so many common interests.
They said ‘good night’ until another time soon, he wearing a ring and she a pendant, emblems of a bond they share as Pisceans, the colour of Amethyst.

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