Friday, April 5, 2013

But…

He smiled. She frowned. He did all to bring back her smile. Acted cute, made up jokes, prophesied his love for her in a dozen ways, and wrote her love songs amongst other endless frivolities. Alas, all in vain. Her mind seemed to be made up. She seemed to have something against him that was creating a gigantic rift between them in front of which even his titanic efforts were dwarfed but…

He didn’t give up. Trudged on steadily, undeterred. She left. Once again. She left in a huff swearing never to see his face again. He waited for her return. His patience gave way after a week and he started looking for her. In vain. She had disappeared off the very face of the earth, or so it seemed. Her phone was switched off and none of her friends knew of her whereabouts. She was at none of her favorite haunts. He was worried. He wasn’t even aware of the reasons of her rage. He had been a pillar of hope, but…

After that long his faith was waning. What, where, how, who? So many questions without any answers. He was terrified of what the future held. The uncertainty of it all flummoxed him. As he entered his house after the seemingly endless and fruitless search his every iota screamed at him for being such a blunt tool and for his obiter dictums but…
There she was. He smiled weakly, she looked resolutely. He felt his words tripping over each other. He tried to be more coherent. Failed. The words flew and chose their own course. She listened. But did she understand? He knew not. She called him stubborn yet there she was, closed to any hope, any dream. Letting the fear of striking out not only keeping her from playing the game but enjoying it too. Deep down she knew, joy unbounded waits but…

He closed his eyes, to hide his broken self. He remained little more than an empty shell casing without her. She was the bullet and with her gone, he was but a piece of scrap. He knew she’d win, he always let her. But unlike the other times he wished for things to be different; for her to lose, just this once, so that they could both win but…

Even before the words were out of her mouth, he knew. He could feel them coming. The curse of understanding her mercilessly flayed him before her words had a chance. Yet he tried. He tried hard. He knew he gave it all he could. He realized he was being verbose, but he couldn’t help it. He knew he held nothing back but…

All he could do now was await her decision. She was the slave and he, the master. Without fail. Always. Yet, in that moment the master’s soul was the slave’s toy and that was a piece of inerrant truth.


One more, he ordered. Me too, she chipped in. The barman smiled. They had had quite a few already.
He smiled at her, she looked pleased. He was glad. She had been stoic for a few days. That forebode ominously to him. But the events of that night brought with them a serene calmness. It had not been long, and he was yet to figure her out. But he didn’t care. He was glad for her presence there and the smile on her face.

She smiled back, content. He had parried her disarray till it stopped haunting her dreams. But she knew that the demon of confusion still lay low, waiting to strike. Yet with him, she was happy. Buoyant almost. The future remained shrouded in mist, she cared not. It was this moment that mattered and she was at peace.

Here you go, the barman left the tequila and lemons in front of them. They looked at the salted glasses and at each other. She giggled. Penny for your thoughts, he asked. She raised her glass and looked deep into his eyes, Just giving it a shot!


*a long while later*

Umm-hmmm. He blinked. Why couldn’t he recall the night. *CLINK* The bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold rolled gently over the floor and he smiled. His back felt heavy and he looked back. Her head lay nuzzling the small of his back and her legs dangled over the other side of the bed. Too much tequila’s never too good, he grinned and zonked out again.

5 comments:

  1. There is always a silent agony in your posts that seem to scream in an aphonic cacophony.
    Beautifully written... beautifully inspired by the muse...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Well written in a pulp fictionesque way.....the sour end cut by the sweet beginning.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Well written in a pulp fictionesque way.....the sour end cut by the sweet beginning.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wow! Just Wow!

    ReplyDelete

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