Ignorance is Bliss

This happened some time ago.

“I deactivated my Facebook account,” she said when we saw each other in the pantry over lunch. “Why? Is it because of him?” I asked. Just then, I noticed the ashen complexion, the bags under her eyes and the haunting sadness in them.

“Are you ok?” I asked. Apparently that was a loaded question. Her jaw quivered till finally, fresh streams of tears rolled down her cheeks. I felt so guilty. I also felt like crying. I wanted to hug her but I didn’t want to call attention to us in the pantry full of colleagues.

“I’ll be okay,” she said as she filled her mug with water from the dispenser, trying to act as casually as possible. I was still the only one aware of the other water source that gushed in the room. “Just don’t tell me about anything you see on Facebook.” It made me wonder what I was going to see on his page. But I didn’t pry. Now was not the time. I of all people know that timing matters. It matters very much.

“Of course; I understand,” I say. And I really did. More than she could possibly know. “At times like these, ignorance is bliss.”

She nodded her agreement. “I just don’t want to squeeze lime juice on my wounds, you know?”

“It’s like your wound is starting to heal, but you keep on picking at the scabs so it starts to bleed again,” I lament. I could feel some drops of blood squeezing out at that moment. I need a band aid. Quick.

“Distraction,” I say. “It works wonders. So keep yourself busy. Try not to think about him.” Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get back to work. Curse the fact that today is Friday. Remind myself to drop by the library to borrow lots of books. Make plans with friends to watch movies on the weekends.

“Just remember that if ever you need someone to talk to, I’m just here, okay?” I tell her in parting. Knowing that she won’t. Because talking is lime juice. Remembering is picking at the scabs. And nobody wants that kind of pain.

She thanks me and walks away without telling me what other people in my place would have asked for. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to see her blood. She needs more time to heal. When the time comes that she wakes up and “he doesn’t love me” is not the first phrase that crosses her consciousness, then she will be ready to tell. For now, she needs to forget he exists.