story time - bon Appetite

Bon Appetite

Pen in mid air, she was discussing the merits of the new classification of the hair oil that there were to launch in a week, when the Blackberry rang. Annoyed she looked at the screen.  Darsh calling. Her mute phone vibrated on the table as her juniors discreetly began to peer into their laptops, knowing by her look that this was not going to go well.

Sighing, she excused herself, as she got out of the chair with the vibrating instrument clutched tightly in her hand. Knuckles white with the intensity of the grip, she could feel the blood rushing to her face.  45 seconds is all it had taken. 45 seconds for her focus and clarity to be replaced with rage and uncontrollable irritation.

Even as she hit the green button on the phone, she knew she was going to sound snappish, hassled and nowhere close to the warm person her colleagues and friends knew her as.  True to her word, she didn’t even bother saying “hey” jumping straight to a fatigued “ya” instead.

And Prince charming did not disappoint

Where is the rice? You know it’s the weekend and there is no rice, I have just woken up and am so hungry and there is nothing to eat. What yaar, how can you not have organized something this simple before heading off to the meeting. Pathetic, even the basics are a struggle around you, the person running the house cant even get that much done, what all am I to do, all you care about is work, and that silly hair oil that no one shall buy….….

She did only one thing.  Took the phone in her hand, stared at it, put it on the loudspeaker, took it to the empty meeting room, left it on the table put the do not disturb sign on the door and walked off.  Seeing Flori at the printer she asked her, to hover around the phone and say hmmmm, for fun whenever she felt like it, disconnect the call in exactly 21 minutes and get her back the phone. 

Its ok, Flori was her personal assistant, and they were the gatekeepers of each other’s dirty secrets.

A wicked smile played on her lips. She imagined him raving and ranting. Knew that he could drone on for a long time, at least a quarter of an hour, and that’s when he wanted the apologies to flow. Usually after that it was her que to mouth…Honey I am so sorry, this shall never happen again, or at the very least an emotional atyachar conversation of what this meant for them, where they were, blah blah blah.

She was grinning now. Imagining his voice rising, his frustration making him break the vase on the table as to each shrieked accusation he got a constant “hmmmmm” from Flori. Hahaha, suddenly the day looked interesting as she imagined the hearty laugh Flori and she would have at TGIF over happy hours this evening.

She went back to the meeting, distractedly downloaded instructions to the juniors, her earlier concentration all but forgotten. Grudgingly she mentally acknowledged that she had just ruined their weekend but scoffed at the meek acceptance with which they hurried to assure her that it was not a problem, and they were more than inspired to get this done, the learning would be immense, this is soooo interesting … yada yada yada .

Sheep! New generation sheep is what they were and sheep were reared for delicious evening meals. That is exactly what she was doing to them. ..

She smiled. Thanking them profusely. Told them they were her favorites. Gagged as she saw 1000 watts bulbs go off in their eyes.  The presentation would now be PERFECT!. And for a cruel twitch, informed them that she would be non-contactable the remainder of the weekend.

BITCH. She saw a mental image of Merly Streep from Devil Wears Prada flash in her mind and secretly kicked herself for being suuuuuuuuuuuuuch a good replica! Well Done Girlie.  

She was no push over, no doormat, she was a cold calculating careerholic. Serious Ladder Climber.

As the sheep scurried out of her room, she sat and fiddled with her mouse pad. It was futile, her mind was too scattered to get anything constructive done.  Drawing the menthol ciggie from her bag, she took the lighter and headed for the stair case, half hoping that Shri would be sitting there holding forth over the Sheep Kingdom he seemed to inspire instantaneous fan following for, and half hoping she would be permitted to smoke in peace.

Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers. This job made sworn anti smoking, cancer activists develop chimneys in their chest.  She sniggered as she remembered the first time Flori, had borrowed a cigarette from her.  Poor Flori, the innocent doe eyed creature had become the snarling PMSing Pomeranian in 2 months flat. Well, good for her, atleast she no longer was the targeted personal assistant for the remaining male partners to “accidently” collide into(read as press into her anyhow) at corridors.

Whoa, this is strange. Shri ALONE? Hmm how come?

Hey there, whats up? the sheep-dom decided to abandon the lord and master? She asked.

Oh shut up already he growled.

 Huh? This was unusual, Shri upset? Plonking herself next to him, she silently lit her cigarette and let the smoke uncoil her insides. Smoky silence smoothened both their jangled nerves as she gently nudged him with her elbow.

Kya hua? Itna gussa?

Shri distractedly flung the still lit stub, watching it burn itself to death. He looked at her interlacing his fingers with his and simply said.

Patta Nahin. Don’t know but something is amiss. No its not Prickface partner, this time nor the moaning cow wife, there is something far deeper that is amiss.

Hmm, she said. Not probing further. As much as she liked Shri, today her head was clogged already with everything and she did not have the space for this. Feeling guilty for not being warmer, she pinched herself and said

Oye, drinks 7 pm TGIF? Game?

Ya, whatever when all else fails might as well let the poison prevail……….

All right then, laters.

She dusted her pants, and moved back to the air-conditioned morgue of an office. Sat down and saw the BB sitting innocently on her desk. 5 sms’s it dutifully informed her.

SMS 1-  Darsh

SMS 2-  Darsh

SMS 3-  Darsh

SMS 4-  Airtel

SMS 5-  Darsh.

SMS 1 - Delete unopened

SMS 2-  Delete unopened

SMS 3-  Opened. ………… 1 line- “I regret the day our paths collided” --- Delete

SMS 4-    Airtel- opened and read twice. The only non manipulative sms she would probably get all day

SMS 5-    ……………. Open/delete? She pondered, hesitating. Knowing the tears were moments away.  Oh well, he did send this last and after a time gap, maybe he was apologizing. ……. OPEN. ……. “Don’t expect me to be home waiting for you to return. I am not your wife AND unlike some people I know my place”

She flung the phone across the table and fell back in her chair. Bizzare how the world simply carried on as hers insisted on dissolving like the biggest iceberg placed in Africa.  LORD. She was exhausted, tired and needed the luxury to breathe

You have MAIL, the laptop screeched. Ting ting a ting, the BB beeped, the SMS beep following soon after. Arrrrgghhh.

Slamming down the laptop, she switched off her phone, picked up her bags and marched out. Told the receptionist to ask Flori to call her in an hour and to tell everyone else she had left for the day. Entered the lift, sunglasses on, car keys out, she wasted no time on niceties before zooming out of the parking lot.

Fuck this shit, she was not going to let that idiotic man ruin her afternoon. As the female divas crooned in her car, she sang along blasting the men to the dregs of the orbiting satellites of Jupiter.

Much calmer, she switched on her BlackBerry and called Shri.

Hey… listen I am having a fucking rotten day, and the cold chamber was not helping. I just left 15 min back, wanna join me sing the woes away? Been ages since we drank the afternoon off for no good reason

Fuck. You are my angel. Am leaving to, think Prickface has gone to kiss some political ass at the Taj, so as long as we avoid that area am cool. Where do I meet you?

TGIF it was, 4 pm both sat looking at each other through the tallest LIT’s. They knew the rule no serious conversation allowed till drink 1 and drink 2 had been downed.  Slurping the last of the ultimate LIT she sat back, feeling the buzz proceed on its journey from her toes to her insides.

Shri was still all morbid, gloomily staring into his drink with such intensity that she could not help herself but burst out into peals of laughter. Holding the table to keep herself from falling off, she laughed and laughed and Shri’s increasing perplexed look only made her laugh more.

Sooorrry,  sorry, I don’t know why I am laughing, its not you, I am not being insensitive, but hahahaaa, look at us, sad assed progressive 30’s year olds with nothing better to do than drink the tragedies of our lives, We are such losers..

Her laughter and sincerity behind it was so contagious that even Shri loosened up and began smiling.

Ya man, since when did we become the ‘oh my life is so serious’ kinda people. That was supposed to be the old farting pot bellied uncle driving his Maruti, at 35km/hour while we the whiz kids were supposed to zoom by on our high flying speed machines, with delicious artifacts of yummy people strewn in the back seat.

And just look at us now, zooming at 20 from the office cubicle to the mess we call home. .. Pathetic.

To Loosers! They hooted as the next round of drinks arrived at the table, large glasses promising happiness at the end of the straw.

Buzzing contentment, she grabbed her drink, managing to spill half on her shirt. The sticky liquid drenched her shirt, as she half attempted to rescue the mess on her chest. Abandoning the futile effort to clean up, she tossed aside the tissue focusing on slurping down bliss instead.

Shri leaned over, shifting the drinks carefully away. Across the table towards her, he towered over her. Getting closer...

Surprised she looked at him closing in, his arm reaching out towards her. She looked into his eyes, he giving her an amused look, and she smiled.  Her lazy hand of its own motion let its fingers caress his cheek, an impish look trailing her smile.

Shri just smiled at her, as her threw the piece of tissue on her face.

Oh! Tissue.. aaah ….oh .. fuck

Embarrassed to the core, What had she been thinking? GAWD,  she quickly tried to change the mood.

So guess, what my darling Prince Charming’s romantic touch for the day was?

Shri, sat there braced for the onslaught that was to begin. Knowing that behind the twisted story, which would be narrated with some wit and humour there lay a lot of unconcealed pain. He watched her animated face as she gesticulated some hap hazard details about Rice or Food and House.. some crap. The details escaped him, all he knew was that this women was in pain.

A swan. That’s it. He had been trying to fathom what it is that she reminded him of. Traces of the ugly duckling the story he had as a kid came back to him. Something about the duck, not fitting in because she was actually a swan, and then flying off to meet the other swans… a vivid picture of a bird soaring high was all he could remember from his nursery rhyme book, a vivid blue sky and an elated bird.

He smiled, maybe her life ended up that way. But for now she was defiantly role playing as the ugly duck. Picturing her as a quacking duck made him smile.  The aloof cold calculating bitch of a swan she was at work, unapproachable by almost everyone. One ciggie at the staircase and the swan became the nervous insecure girl trying to hold it all together and remain true to herself in a world where only few choices seemed to be hers alone. As for that moron she called a hubbyy…. hahaa

OUCH, STOP THAT! He shrieked as he realized she was literally biting his finger giving him smoldering looks

I am telling you about the absolutefuckingloutely assholic husband of mine and you are laughing? What the fuck is so funny Mr. I have my life all sorted with my cow wife person you?

Uff nothing baba. Just thinking of something. Anyway, so let me get this straight your man has left the house for a rice craving? May be we should buy him a one way ticket to Vietnam, he can get all the rice he wants all the time.

Hahaaa they both went off into one more round. The idea of baboon Darsh, wearing a Vietnamese hat sitting in the middle of a rice paddy field surrounded by the lithe girls all shoving rice in his face was just too much, LIT spluttering from her nose, she imagined him gone.

Saucer Eyed she looked at Shri, almost jumping from her chair. She squealed gibberish with super enthusiasm… bouncing on her chair.

Shriiii…..I am going to leave him. I mean technically he is the one that’s gone.. but I mean for like good he can be gone. Like actually be made to sit in Vietnam eating rice… hahahaa! Wow I can make him Gooo..this is uber cool

What? What the hell are u talking about? What about the marriage, kids, commitment, he is not that bad nonsense you keep muttering about?

Leaping with new fire, she crawled across to his side of the table. Snuggling into the couch, she leaned into his ear and drunk whispered, I know, all that is fine, but Shri, you know he is really a STUPID MAN, like dumb. Cant be with dumb people Shri, they are like donkeys. I am not a donkey, he makes me go numb. I am going to call my travel agent and send him to Vietnam

Shri laughed at her innocent confession. Patted her very drunk head and drew her in with his arm. She snuggled next to him and sleepily drank from her massive glass. By now he could not even remember why he had been sulking, just knew that it was a huge thing that had been bothering him.

Buzzed, warm and amused he tried in vain to restrict her from ordering the next round of drinks. Bulldozed into submission he held her as she drank like a little child drinking her rationed 1 coke a week.

I KNOW! THIS IS WHAT WE SHOULD DO……She leaped from his arms standing straight up, eyes shining, barefoot and gleaming with a brainwave that he knew smelled of DISASTER

Shri, Shri… this is it. Rice that bastard wanted and Rice is what we are going to give him . Please please do this with me….,

Do what? He said very slowly.. this was bad, once before she had gone on revenge mode and man it was mean blood letting

Bending over the table, her pretty ass making for a delicious frame in the corner of his mind she explained her very devious plan.

Laughing inspite himself, he watched her charm the TGIF manager into agreeing to her strange request. As she returned to the table her anticipation was palpable. A tigress waiting to be unleashed.

In 10 minutes 5 waiters came armed with huge takeaway bags. They were so heavy that they needed help to take them to the car. His eyes bulged as he saw the bill. Rs 15000.. where what? They had bought 5000 rupees worth of RICE???

She insisted on swiping Darsh’s add on credit card to clear the bill and half skipped and hopped out of the door. She paused at the door, clanging the TGIF horn madly, giggling at her own madness. He helped miss drunk on high heels into his car, tipping the amused waiters as they placed the bags in the car.

Drunk instructions got them to her place. Thankfully Babboon man’s car was missing, the guard saluted her as she ordered them to get the bags to the house.

They entered the house, she flung her shoes headed to the bar, poured them both stiff drinks, before proceeding to head to the bathroom. Emerging in her shortest shorts, she ripped apart bag one and holding it before him.. waited for him to begin

Shri cocked his eyebrows ..  aah what exactly is the plan your highness?

She did not answer, she did. Took a fistful of the cooked steamed rice and threw it to the ceiling letting it fall all over the beige spotless carpet. DESTROY ….. LETS GIVE THE MAN RICE.

Freaking madness is what the next hour was all about. Dancing to wild music, slugging down the vodka Shri assisted the highness in destroying every inch of the apartment, she had called home till this morning.

Rice was everywhere, starting with his shirt pockets, squashed on his Gucci suit, lining his underwear, carefully worked into his laptop, inside his dvds, in his dvd player, sticky rice coating the pillows, the floor the rugs, the chargers, the remote was left drenched in milk, rice lined the bathroom, one kilo was emptied into the flush, the couch was coated, sleek lamps decorated with rice balls, his playstation and Gautier furniture ruined with her barefoot tribal dance done to smash the rice on which some residue wine was added to get that hint of colour…

The house was destroyed, every corner and inch ripped, trodden and dismantled. Rice; the apartment reeked of it. Looking like a cloud had gifted it with a very special snow storm. In the middle of all this stood the duck swan, in her shorts standing there with the last lump of rice, staring at her wedding picture on the living room wall.

She gingerly walked up to the frame, stood before it stared into it.

Took a handful of rice and made it into goo with her fingers

Delicately almost piously, she smeared his face with rice

With immense concentration, she then coated her bridal picture, covering the entire frame, till nothing but a white mess was left.

She stood staring at that for a while. Turned around and looked at him. Smiled.

Walked to him and hugged him tight, reached up to his ears and whispered

Lets go

As they descended the building, she reached for her BB and sent one text

Dear Darsh……… Bon Appetite

Bindi

The sheets rustled as she stirred. 

She turned to one sided, and with sleepy eyes looked around her. The room was dark and cold. The AC was blasting in one corner, oblivious to her presence. The drapes covered the windows and cutting out the world. The room was shrouded in darkness. The night hung heavy and pregnant. Still half asleep she drowsily scanned the room wondering where she was...

Feeling cold, she tried to snuggle back into bed, pulling the covers around her, turning around and borrowing her head against the pillow.

That’s when her hands brushed against his warm back. She smiled.  A slow sleepy sheepish smile, that reached the very tips of her eyes.

Of course the room seemed new, it was new, this was new. Having him here was new. It was real, this He was hers tonight; only and only hers. Finally the night was here. She was here, he was here and the luxury of spending the whole night with him as here.

She was in a resort that they had checked into late last evening. How silly of her, how could she possibly forget the drive in, the convoluted lies to be here, the heady mix of anxiety at being alone in room with him that filled her with drunk butterflies.. she chuckled to herself as she remembered how much she had giggled, her only defense to his direct gaze.

Her laughter that got stuck in her throat, when she saw him, so not amused. Her silence, as he held her gaze. Her eyes searching his face, as he moved towards her.

His feather light touches, as he traced her eye brows, her ears, her forehead. Never had they felt so alive. His mocking look, as he held back the kiss she was anticipating. Making her whimper for him. Making her forget her shyness, tracing her nose, kissing its tip, leaving her hungry for ever so long……….

Hazy memories of bodies touching, the slow intimacy giving way to a devilish rush, the breathless anticipation, pain and pleasure all conniving to transform him into another person, transforming her into someone she has never met…

Fragments from yesterday tumbled around in her mind. Leaping over each other, each clamoring to be relived, re-savored.

Her idle fingers, traced her lips wanting to rekindle the magic. They trailed down her neck, her breasts, stroked the fine soft hair on her chest before resting on her belly button.  She blushed red. A deep intense embarrassed red as she remembered how much attention that silly thing had got.

 Yesterday was nothing like what she had imagined and everything she could have wished for. Wide awake now, she grinned to herself and hugged the pillow.

It was a secret, their secret. Her whole world had changed yet not one other soul in the world would know about it.

Everyone thought she was off managing a friend’s urgent crisis. Well technically speaking, this was a crisis, and definitely extremely urgent, and it did involve a friend… but just not quite what she had painted to Mom. Evil pure evil.. this night was. Yet it was hers, to own and revel in.

Stretching into the bed, she watched him sleep.  Resisting the urge to touch his ears, those mocking lips that were smiling even as he slept or his tousled hair. Her eyes lingered over his back, biting her lip where welts from last night still shone an angry red. A reminder that yesterday was not a hallucination. 

Shaking her head, embarrassed to the core, she plopped back onto the pillows.

Trailing her fingers through her hair, she stared at the ceiling. Wide awake now, but not wanting to disturb him she debated what to do.

Reluctantly she peeled herself of the bed. The Ac’s blast hit her full force as she groped for something to drape herself with.  Covered with goose bumps she nearly tripped on his shirt discarded on the floor. Curling her toes over it, she pulled the shirt on and flapped the never ending sleeves.

There was something about wearing an oversized mans shirt that made her feel delicate. Made her feel protected and petite, strange it may be but she loved it. She gingerly made her way to the mirror, picking her way between the debris of yesterday that lined the floor.

Standing near the mirror she admired herself. Hmm you little yummy thing! Look at you. You look like a newly married penguin. Laughing at her own joke, she did her favorite penguin dance, flapping the sleeves and hopping around. Quickly stealing a look behind to make sure he had not woken up to notice her idiosyncrasies.  

Carelessly piling her hair into a ponytail, she marched purposefully to the bathroom.  Shut the door and stood flapping her arms, gently swaying in front of the basin.

His solid and stern black toilet kit sat next to her hideously bright yellow one.  

Lord, what was she thinking, or was she thinking when she had packed that in. What would he think?? In any case she was convinced he perceived her to be a kid, and the YELLOW kit, just yelled that fact loud and clear.

Ah well. Too bad, she did secretly like it a lot. It was happy. Bright sunshine happy, exactly how a day should start.

She scowled back at the black kit, returning the reproachful look it seemed to be giving her. Pepsodent pearly white, measured on the brush, she sluggishly began brushing. And Paused. There was something on the mirror. Brush stuck in mid air, she directed her gaze at the dot she had noticed from the corner of her eye.

On the right hand top most edge of the mirror, placed at an exact angle to the frame, the dot became clearer.  It was a carefully stuck medium sized black bindi.

Hypnotized; her thoughts temporarily suspended, she gingerly reached out to touch it. Her fingers grazed its surface, almost stroking it. It was soft and damp. A recent offering then, to the mirror.

 It rested like a Zen Buddha, peaceful, quiet and neutral. 

She was transfixed with it, staring at it, willing it to speak.

Who wore it? Was she someone’s lover or a wife? A secret rendezvous with an admirer? Did she get into trouble for forgetting the bindi on the mirror, touching her forehead as she entered her house, hoping no one would notice? Or did she place it there on purpose, as a reminder, for the next time she came? Yuck, the idea that this room was repeatedly used repulsed her very soul.

Using the toothbrush as a prodding tool, she analyzed the bindi again.  Top corner edge, precision in the angle. This was no hurried cast away there was thought and precision lacing the act.

Who the hell wore a bindi anymore in any case? Images of her women friends loomed in her mind. No, not one of them ever wore a bindi. Come to think of it, the bindi was something her entire generation had discarded. Almost, no one she could recall used it every day.

Who was this woman then? Someone middle aged? Married? Removing the one bodily trace of being married before making love? She imagined making love with the bindi on.. it simultaneously seemed erotic and disgusting, like a Nazi stamp implanted on her.

Shilpa Bindis, from nowhere the word loomed in her head. Mom, mom was the only person she could remember who still wore a bindi.  Visions of home, the graying bathroom mirror, its sides home to the growing swamp of shipa bindis that arrived and disappeared in an unknown pattern. Maroon and Black, the only 2 colours that Mom ever used.  Always the same brand, the same round shape, the sameness of it somehow defining her. Why did she still wear it? Was it connected to being married? Was it her mother talking?

Her thoughts leaped in all direction. She could hear her mothers voice, almost predict the call that she would make in a few hours, to inform her mom that she had reached her destination.  Sense the reassurance, mom would feel, the unkown tension escaping her.. if only she knew.

Her eyes welled up………  Stop it! You wanted this as much. Stop lying and pretending to be a miss goddy two shoes now. Too late. You are exactly like the bindi women, she discarded the bindi, you honesty!

She shuddered, stepping back from the sink. The lightness she was feeling moments earlier replaced by a heavy forbidding. 

The other women’s presence seemed to fill the bathroom. She could visualize her standing in front of the mirror brushing her teeth, discarding her robe as she stepped in for a shower. Stood here, exactly where she was and hummed to herself.

Reality came and hit her hard. She slumped against the bathroom wall and slid down to the floor. Toothbrush still in hand she stared into space. Trying hard to make sense of the riot in her mind.

This room was not hers. It was borrowed. To be returned in a few hours.

This man was not hers. He was borrowed. To be returned in a few hours

This happiness was not hers. It too was fleeting, borrowed, hollow.  To be revisited in a few hours

Her shoulders hunched as quiet tears rolled down.

For the first time she saw herself, from the eyes of the hotel receptionist. Saw the pitiful look her friends would give her. Hated the fact that this night was to remain a secret, a dirty secret, grimy and unclean.

Using the flapping sleeves she wiped away the tears. Something cold and metallic grazed her cheek. Absent mindedly, she looked at the sleeve and saw his cufflink clinging on to a loose thread. 

Cufflinks, she made love to a man who wore CUFF LINKS! The towering fucking symbol of egoistic, inflated cocky as hell obnoxious men. 

She hated him, at that moment she wished the welts on his back were deeper. Were life long scars that he would carry. How did this happen? How did she allow herself to dream and fantasize about a cufflinker?

He who promised her nothing?  Zilch!!  Even this stupid night was planned on her persistence. She wanted this. Wanted memories, wanted pictures, wanted to be Alice in fucking wonderland pretending that they were a REAL couple, not a “oh we must not ever let anyone know about this” couple

She was angry, at herself. At being here, this room the Stupid BINDI that changed EVERYTHING. She stood up, glaring at puffy face in the mirror. Yanked the  bindi off the mirror and flung it. It refused to be flung and clung on to her fingers.

Seething now, she wringed her fingers, yanking it hard, violence in her every gesture. Took it and flung it into the commode. Flushing it.  Keeping the fingers pressed on the flush, once, twice, thrice, wanting to remove every trace of that ghostly woman. DAMM HER!

Sleeves rolled up. No more the penguin. She stormed back into the room

Cool Darkness engulfed her. He was still asleep. Deeply so. Had rolled onto his stomach and his sleeping face looked so innocent. Angelic almost, the anger she felt seemed false. Seemed real.

She wanted him. For herself. Wanted him to make promises that she could believe, she wanted to be his, to be owned, to be declared. She wanted these tears to stop.

Walking back to the bed, took forever. With each step, she picked up her clothes. Dressing as she walked. She folded his shirt patiently aligning the remains of the iron’s lines that lurked below the crumpled creases.  Fully dressed, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her mobile.

5.30 am it said. She had been awake less than an hour and it seemed like a lifetime. Uncertain about her next move, she sat and breathed. Breathed calmness into her weary bones.

Fetching her bag, she made up her mind. She was leaving. Going home, would cook one more lie for mom and nip this in the bud. Nip it before she became a bindi woman herself. Sighing, she wiped the tears that would not stop.. and looked for her shoes.

She was done. There was nothing more to do, but leave.

She stood. Walked to his side of the bed, gently touched his hair almost maternally. Smothering her sobs, she stood by his side, loathing this moment.  

She wished he would wake up, stop her, hold her. Wished she could snuggle into him and forget the past hour. She waited, seemed to be getting a PHD in waiting. Nopes. Nothing. Mr Cufflink was out cold. 

Sighing, she moved ever so slowly to the door. Waiting for him to call her, to wake up and STOP her with his every breath.  

Each step taking forever.  She reached the door. Turned the door knob. There was nothing to stop her but her.

She hesitated.

Slowly closed the door.

Turned around.

Walked back towards the bed.

Discarding each piece of clothing, carefully.

She reached him. In the same exact manner as she had left the bed. Cold and Goose bumped.

Pulled his side of the covers.

Slid in. tugged at his arms. Snuggled beside him. Felt him. Felt his arms around her. 

And made peace with the momentary contentment she felt. This felt right, this felt home.

boy man

She rolled down the window and gingerly stuck just the tips of her fingers out. They were drenched in seconds. She smiled. Enjoying the sensation of wetness on her fingertips, and getting ambitious she stuck her palm out, squeaking with pleasure as the rain nibbled on her palm, gleefully... 

Delighted at her little game, she rolled the window down further, and succumbed her wrist, her arm, her elbow to the merciless rain. Fingers dancing, she cupped her palms and let the rain collect there, before splashing it up and watching her own rain pattern being created. With wild dancing eyes, she stole a look at him. He was driving, staring at the road. Immune to her and her juvenile antics..

So typical of him, she thought, even on a gorgeous day like this with the rain finally breaking the spell of the long summer, all this man can think of is his office, deals and larger than life meals. Just look at him. Every single thing about him was “perfect, bloody perfect”

The casual Lactose T-shirt, was tucked into the Arrow shorts, carefully matched with the brown belt. The flawlessly white sneakers, pushed the accelerator down to a steady 100. Always a 100 never more, the blue tooth earring and the fingers tapping to his only car cd, while the eyes darted towards the Black berry, with rhythmic periodicy.

Grrrrrrrrr Grrrrrrrrrrr, yelled her insides. She wanted to dance, to get wet in the rain. Wished he would for once pull over, take the initiative in dragging her out and dancing to some super cheap Hindi music. Wished she could draw him in, and kiss him in the middle of the drenched road. Wished she could shake that silly man into living a little.

Never mind, for the now, she was making patterns in the rain ;0.. One, two, three, and throw… one, two, three and throw. She giggled at the game she and the rain were playing, and before she knew what she was doing, one, two and three.. And SPLASH!!

Shit she bit her tongue. What was wrong with her. She had splashed water all over the man, his hands free and the dreaded blackberry.

Eyes wide open with horror she watched the water drops trail down the shirt. The worse hit was the blue tooth. WET and how.

She could not meet his gaze. Instead, she withdrew her palms from the window and gently, like a lady placed them on her lap. The window rolled up, she sat and waited.

Phew………The polite patient condescending yelling was coming, right about now.

The car slowed down. Oh oh! Very bad sign

The indicator flicked on, the car ground to a halt. Fuck, she was so dead.

Silence, filled the car. Her hands still, her body still, she waited. The rain drummed on the windowsill, laughing merrily at her plight. She scowled at the rain, muttering how all this was his fault.

Oh come on, just say something and get it over with will you. She wanted to yell. Do Something. anything Say something. This disgusting game, of staring her down into submission was enough to make her see red……

She was getting angry. Angry at being made to feel sorry, Anger at having married this prick, anger at his silent scowl, anger at the rain, blinding mad anger. She wanted to slap him. HARD and feel the sting of it.

The silence dragged on, with each breath her nostrils flared even more. Past experiences had taught her, that he could sit like this still for minutes. The record was set at 21 minutes of silent treatment, before she had mumbled the appropriate words.

What was he a woman? Who has ever heard of the man giving the silent treatment? Fine then, two can play this game. Am so kicked, minus the silly hands free he shall finally have to enter into conversations. Yuck! Imagine talking to him.. oh no, his silence is better than his drab banter. Fuck, not another story about Mrs. Gupta, or his silly college drunken tale, where they stole the parking sign. If I hear that one more time, I shall take the closest parking board sign and slam it on his face……

Her mind chattered on. He sat and waited. Patient as always.

Hrrmmmmmmmppppppppph!!!! 

God someone do something. By now she was livid. She knew exactly what she wanted to do.

Without any warning, she slammed open the car door, leaped out into the pouring rain and stood there. Stood there in her white T shirt, and got wet. Stood there in front of the car and stared right back at him. Stood there, and collected raindrops in her palms. Stood there sang her favorite rain song.

Stood there and looked at him with defiance, with pride, with laughter.

She stood there and rejoiced with the rain. The rain delighted at getting the full attention of his playmate, jigged with even more enthusiasm. She danced and she stared at him. Daring him, changing the dynamics of the relationship with her every move………. Licking her wet lips, moving her wet hair, aware of what he was going through........

She stood there, and waited. Waited till the car door cracked open, watched the perfect white shoe get its first ever brown spot, as it landed bang in between a puddle. Her mouth swung open, and stayed there, as she saw Mr. Perfect, chuck the hands free into the fields. Her eyes followed his every action.

He slammed back the car door. Stood there, palms outstretched and felt the first rain drop on his face. Turned his face up to the sky, shook his head and smiled. Grinned from ear to ear, and he moved suddenly all manly towards her.

The shocked stunned mouth gaping her… who stood mute, as he approached her, softly, calmly and without saying a word, kissed her full on the mouth. Had she won or had she lost?

She did not know and for that moment, did not care. As she kissed back the boy, she had lost when he became a man.