I wanted to roll my eyes at him or shake my head but ended up
articulately staring at him, with a smile on my face, heart palpitating like a
sleeping volcano, at the unexplored possibilities, at the percolating
realizations. Anything I might have wanted- a new dress, an iPod or art
supplies even - seemed to be vacuous. I’ve far long stopped caring about the
materialistic things, they were nothing compared to the one thing I wanted the
most.
“No,” I
said. “There isn’t any list.”
He
laughed through his nose, shaking his head, his hair falling on his eyes,
dishevelled as always. Also, he had a habit of running his hands through his
hair every now and then, making them more messy. His hair was black, like mine,
but not nearly as light. Mine looked brown at times. He runs his fingers
through his hair, only to have them fall on his forehead again.
“There
must be something you really want; otherwise it’s going to be a boring
birthday.”
If he
knew nearly as much as I knew, it would have been a different conversation. But
if there is one thing, it’d be the freedom; freedom to love who I wanted
and freedom to make my own choices.
“Let it be.” I said instead.
He
stayed silent, studying me like he was trying to remember something, trying to
find something; I tried not to give myself away and started working instead. I
was aware that he was looking at me still and I know before he stops looking,
he’ll shake his head, laugh through his nose and get back to his work.
It was
why we connected the way we did, in spite of the five-year gap in our ages. I’d
fallen for him last December. It has been a year. I met him during one of the coffee breaks which I took
that day. I’d never seen him in the office before; he was in the canteen,
running towards his colleagues when the Marlboro pack fell out of his
pants. I almost didn’t care, but something unusual caught my attention and
I had to pick up the Marlboro pack. There was a note attached to it which said: 'You know you want it, Chris'. And I don’t know if he was trying to stop smoking
or trying to kill himself. It amused me and I went up to him to return the
pack, attached a note to it which said: 'Why would you drop me? Don’t you want
me now?' Humph. The rest is history.
“I know
that every girl has a predilection for flowers, you need not hide it.” He said
“Don’t
you have work, Mr. Sexist?” I said without glancing at him.
In a
not-so-obvious way to change the subject, he said “Need to make a call, don’t
miss me.” I rolled my eyes at him.
At
almost seven in the evening, we left the office. I reached my flat in about
twenty minutes. Surprised at what my eyes were seeing. Because at the doorstep,
were roses. I hastened to pick them up, they were beautiful, immaculate red
colour glittered under the yellow light, the smell was intoxicating. There was
a note attached to them, I opened it up and read it aloud: See, girls do have a
predilection for flowers.
Credits: Google. |
I
laughed, looked around me to make sure no one was there to catch me smiling
like a fool or to point out how red my cheeks have had become. Fool. He is. And
here is another sublime moment to cherish, I may have never had a predilection
for flowers before but I certainly do now.
This is beautiful Tanisha and so very cute!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much! :)
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