Some Sunday evening of February or March ’14, Missy had told me about a marriage party across her street. She was invited there. I was home that night, and intended to catch an early bus the next morning for the Monday classes.
Missy’s next call came sometime around midnight.
She’d been been drinking at the party. More that it was good for her. And coming back to her room, she was pretty drunk.
So she called me up, and it was just like the last time. She talked and talked, endlessly, with a strange silly childish voice. And I listened, with an occasional agreement.
And sometime in between, she asked me,
“Abby, I meant to ask you a question for a long time.”
And I was like, “Okay, shoot it”
“Do you like me ?”
“C’mon Abby, tell me, do you like me or not ?”
Now, what was I gonna say to that ? Well, she was drunk, and she would probably not remember the conversation the next day. So, I decided to go with the truth.
“Well Missy, you’re a great friend, indispensable at times–”
“Chop chop, is it Yes or No ?”
“No, I don’t quite–”
“Hahaha. I meant do you like me as a friend, stupid. Look how serious you got !!”
That was followed by a long laughter from her side.
Now, I’m a credulous, gullible guy and an incredibly poor judge of character by face. And they say that drunk people speak truth. But, I sensed something weird about that laughter, as if it was forced.
Anyway, briefly after that, Missy abruptly ended the conversation, saying
“Thanks, Abby, I really needed to talk to you. Good Night”
I also bid her goodbye, since I had to wake up early next morning.
The next morning, as I got off the bus, and was heading back to my hostel, my phone rang. It was Missy.
“Good Morning !! Sober yet ?”, I picked it up.
“Abby, I hate you.”
“Why ? What have I done ?”
“I don’t know. But my room-mates said I was up crying all night after leaving the phone. And the last person I was talking to was you. You must’ve said something.“