The sad beauty of a broken heart

Illustration: TBS

Swiping the card, I entered the hotel room. Kept the bags on the ledge and pulled the chair by the window. Looking over the city and soaking the energy of the overlooking square, excitement filled my heart. Lisbon was where we first came together. A place where he proposed with a ring hidden in the guitar case while he sang me the most beautiful song.

The guitar chords ringing in her ears began fading away as she regained herself to the present moment. She booked a group walking food tour in an hour and needed to meet the tour guide at  a  place which was a 15 minutes walk from the hotel. She freshened up and looked forward to the dinner with the tour group, trying but failing to mute all the thoughts in her mind. 

She could hear them all. Her mind replayed the scenes of laughter and soft kisses. The more she struggled to keep the thoughts away, the more it came in waves. She reached the meeting spot after double checking with Google maps and waited at the location. 

10 minutes later, the guide showed up and said that all the tourists had canceled and I would be the only person. So it was just me and him. Roger and me. 

Roger was handsome and tall with wrinkled eyes and full lips. The khaki fitted shorts he wore accentuated his sunburnt toned legs. His voice had a velvety texture and his eyes were deep.

Roger spoke as we began walking in the alley ways to our first stop. "So, Susan, is it your first time in Lisbon?" My heart tightened and I could feel my voice drop in the weight of the pain. I said "no, I have been here before, some 20 years ago." 

"I came on my honeymoon,"  I blurted. I have no idea why I said this. What made me so at ease with the stranger that I could tell him something that I couldn't even bear to tell myself? 

He beamed and before he could speak further I cut him off and told him "He is getting married next week after we just got divorced." His eyes lit up in awe "Wow you are one hell of a woman, you came to Lisbon to celebrate your marriage now you came here to celebrate your separation! I wish I could be this strong" he said.

I gave him an inquisitive look and was already embarrassed for oversharing as we entered the first restaurant. As we sat after the order in the restaurant, Roger said "I am going through divorce too and now battling custody. With my job as a tour guide and my one child, I cannot imagine being even as strong as you," I reached out to his hand and squeezed. 

We exchanged a long look, a look of comprehension, a look of understanding, a look of pain and a look of new beginnings in a foreign land where I thought I shall be lonely.

This story is part of a collection developed in a creative writing workshop run by Shazia Omar. If you would like to join the next workshop, please email her: shaziaomar@gmail.com