She is the girl who will look good holding roses in a tiny dress as she waits for her lover who is running late. The subtle breeze will be seeping through her, exploring beneath her blue chiffon and it will send a chilling shudder through her. Her wine, white-for she loves chardonnay- will be refilled by the gracious waiter, and she will look at her watch and sigh again.
I am the dog that she is waiting.
I amble towards her with this wicked smile of the guilty hyena. She is a girl of modest temperaments. She looks up with those untroubled eyes and with a withering smile let all the emotion within her fizzle out in a sigh. It’s one quality in her that I find most charming. In contrast, I am an emotional wreck, and I tend to break things when red in the face. Tact and diplomacy is not one of my strong faculties.
Perhaps it’s the reason why we have dated for such a long time that I started doubting the ingredients of her pots. Not that the girl can cook, I took to the kitchen long time ago. Her food tastes disastrous and I only know dinner is ready when I see smoke from charred food pouring from her kitchens. The last time she concocted her absurd mixture I frothed at the mouth and sneaked to the local to have one for my sorrows as I admired floozy nightingales gyrating their buttocks on a pole.
I staggered back to the house when the devil had just cocked his ears from the sheets. He knows when the Lord has taken a nap. I found the girl was on a bender. A bottle of chardonnay stood empty on the table. With one leg flung over the table and the other tapping gently on the carpet, the girl was sitting easy, smoking one roll of marijuana after the other like the queen of Sheba. I had suspected my girl had a crazy bone lurking somewhere beneath that quiet demeanor. I just didn’t expect them to show up so suddenly.
That night I slept like a drifter. I had gone back to the club where, as my bad breeding demanded, I had caused a ruckus. The bouncers in honor of their duty had thrown me out losing my phone and wallet in the process. With no remote chance of the sinner being forgiven for his trespasses, I was forced to make peace with the stinging cold at the back of an old garbage truck. We were several tenants back there and my new housemates wondered why the new tenant jostled in without any ceremony. I had to pat with my shoes and my good jacket as my rent deposit for the night.
That was six months ago and today is the day I am celebrating a year of our lovely communion. It’s not every year that yours truly makes such astonishing milestones in dating. As I take a deep breath and pull a chair opposite this girl, a wave of apprehension sweeps over me. I look at her face trying to crack it open to see emotions beneath it. Nothing! A thousand volts of electricity could pass through her but her face will remain a thick mask of emotions.
“I have brought you flowers, smell them, they should scent delicious, don’t you think so?”
It was a pretty bunch of lilies. I don’t know much about flowers but I held them close to my nose and nodded vigorously like some scotch connoisseur after tasting a 40 year old Whisky in the Scottish Islands.
“They smell heavenly, my lady. Apologies for getting late. You know the traffic, and worse the car broke down in a dangerous stretch I had to call a cab.”
Truth is, crazy Helen had refused to leave my house the previous night and kicking her out in the morning had demanded a great deal of coercion and promissory notes of a kind. Helen is that one girl you never completely break up with. She sneaks in and out of your life like a ghost and she has illegally duplicated a spare key to your house. She knows when your girl visits and when the girl last served you sex- which is when she feels like it and the girl don’t feel like having sex many nights in a year. Helen knows all about this, and she keeps track. She comes in, blows you off, cleans up her scent and disappears. She is the little devil that cooks storms. And just as they say, a woman and her cooking tell of her bedroom overtures. It is hard to leave a woman of such rare combination of talents.
The waiter comes up for our orders and I tell him to hold up a sec. It is getting cold and my girl across looks like she can do with a sweater but I doubt she carried one.
‘Shall we get in? It’s getting cold in here.” I propose.
“Are you cold…… already?”
“F’course it’s cold honey….hey, wait. ….what do you mean by that?” It’s the way she stresses on the word….already…..like I was just from an oven, or suspiciously, from some warm activity; something that didn’t sit very comfortable with me.
“By what, Henry?”
“What you just said…..”
“And what did I just say, Henry?”
“Ok, forget it…..let’s just sit here.” I resigned.
“Are you hiding something from me, Henry?”
“What with the interrogation. ….oh Jesus! Can we make the order?”
“Now you are avoiding my questions, Henry. Why are you avoiding my questions? Are you hiding anything Henry? Come on…..it’s our ‘anniversary’….you don’t want to hide things from your girl on her anniversary. ”
“Honey, I am not hiding anything. Listen, it is cold out here and seeing you wearing the chiffon I think you can catch a cold out here.”
She bore her quiet eyes through me in her characteristic calm and I feel a sweat break in my armpits.
“You fucked around again last night, didn’t you Henry?” This bombshell dropped quite casually gets the skin on my neck hot and I want to jump.
“What…what the hell are you talking about?” An overwhelming heat sweep over my skin, my lips goes dry suddenly.
“What did I tell you about lying to me Henry? Hmm….”
Despite the grave tension, she remains unmoved, her tone even, her demeanor cool. If you place hot water in her mouth at the moment she will spit out crystal ice.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, girl. Are you messing with me or what? What’s all this!”
“Did she clean up her scent before leaving this morning? Tell me the truth, Henry.”
A couple sited the next table are whispering and throwing furtive glances in our direction.
“Stop it bae! For Christ sake, stop it! Look around you…people are staring! We can have this discussion in the house.”
“Did you use the condoms this time Henry?”
“Shhhhh, bae! Shut it!”
“She screamed your name again as you fucked her….how many times, did she cum?”
A couple of heads has turned their heads now, and I can tell they were following up our little act with great enthusiasm.
‘Now listen, Henry…’ this she whispers so close in my ear. ‘You want to keep the title of my property, you want the house and the car. Look at the base of those lilies, there is a ring. An engagement ring. You will propose to me tonight. Tomorrow we will marry. Tonight let’s make merry.”
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