Do Us Part

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

I should be sitting across from him. At dinner. For the very first time. Legs crossed beneath the table. Like a lady. Manicured nails. Palm cuffed beneath the chin. Right. 4 carat Diamond ring. Left. An impatient sigh, blew the hair from my eye. Sit up straight. Fingers tapping. I wait. Lipstick stains on the twice filled glass. Flutes remain print-less as if we had Naegeli syndrome.

Through squinted eyes I peered over the shoulder of the pesky waitress as she asks for the third time if I needed a drink. This time, I should’ve said yes, “A Bob Marley please,” as a tyro rendition of No Woman No Cry repetitiously drowned my thoughts. Instead, I spot an older couple. Maybe in their seventies. He, once a restless scientist toiling to find the cure. She, a District Attorney wishing she’d worked a little less; just enough to raise a little angel, not the companion she met at 13. Once a man, twice a child. I imagined. Nevertheless, there was love. Love that withheld through lonely dinners, missed birthdays, long research sabbaticals, grueling court cases, and chemo. At the end of the journey, they still had each other. I wondered if we would.

The sound of thunder brought me out of my daze, nearly spilling the flavored water in my square-shaped goblet. Foot tapping, I felt a tingle, squeezed my thighs tighter. As rain broke through a sky of gray clouds, I shook my head and watched it hit the pavement. Picturing him bouncing out of a giant drop, I gazed through prestige windows that made me feel just as small as I did when I first moved to this city. His city. His streets. His bright lights. His big apple. His favorite restaurant. His birthday. His ass is an hour and a half late. I’ve always believed that music is life, but I never imagined it taking away the love of mine.

My napkin fell as I got up to rush to the restroom. A bladder infection on top of a ravenous stomach wasn’t going to help any. After relieving myself, I stared at my round face, almond eyes, and pouty-when-distraught lips. If I wore foundation, I would have piled it on. If I wore blush, I would have painted merry cheeks. Charcoal eye liner and deep cherry lipstick only highlighted my mood.

Walking back I notice the elderly couple had vanished. That quick? As if they were never there. Through a rack focus I spot a man standing at my table, running his forefinger around the rim of his glass. Excuse me, I thought, what the hell. But as I got closer to my seat a lump filled my throat and my steps became weak. Hesitation took over. I've never liked long black trench coats. Men in black harboring emotionless stares. I approached him, ready, so I thought. Was it someone from the industry? When our eyes met and his shifted, I knew it was the end.

I know the exact second I lost control. My hands shook, my feet quivered, lips trembled, tears fell. Memories flushed my mind. Just Married scripted on the back of the Maybach. He only rode in style. Black sand between toes on Waianapanapa Beach. Nights of coition on star kissed feather beds. Long talks about what each of our seven children would grow up to be. Whose lips and eyes our grandchildren would have.

At that moment, I realized I’d never sit across from him. Never wonder how life would’ve been if we made every dinner date. Arrived on time to every birthday party. Worked less. Took more vacations together. No children. No chemo.

Just, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kest.”

BOMPF*

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I love this doll. Very compelling! I was drawn so deep in the story, I still wanna know what happens next.

Belle to the Posh said...

Lol. Thank you! I'm still stuck on it too.