There was no saying how
disappointed I was; I had been looking forward to the date for a long time. Our
last date was…3 weeks 5 days 6 hours ago…and counting. As I was locking my door
behind me, car keys in my hand, it was almost ritualistic that my phone gave a
tremble in my pockets; she sent message saying she could not make it for the
date, again.
Again!
Something really did felt
out-of-place, but I could not put my fingers to it. A fortnight ago was a
faulty car engine, last week was a sick niece she had to babysit, and then it
was an emergency with her pet cat.
Gosh that stupid Persian!
Once again, I was left
standing alone at crossroads, in possession 2 movie tickets to the latest Fast
& Furious, a complimentary dining voucher for two at the Dome, and a
buy-one-free-one coupon at our favourite coffee parlour.
“Why waste them?” I supposed
and gleefully I went.
If finding a parking at the
shopping mall was hard, it was even harder getting through the crowd at the
cinema lobby. I cancelled my plans for a chilled Coke and popcorn at the sight
of a long and endless queue. Walking straight to the counter, I lined up to
have my tickets checked. The light indicator above beckoned me to go in
already, with the movie starting in about 10 minutes.
The line was slow and some
customers were anxious to get inside quickly, and soon a scuffle broke out. It
was then I saw a familiar silhouette, roughly a few feet before me.
It can’t be her.
Before I knew it, a couple
more stewards came and formed a line between us and the entrance to the halls,
stopping me in my tracks. I stood there stunned. My fingers found the keypads
of my phone and pushed the quick dial.
“Hey…I’m just calling to check
up on you.”
“Yeah…I’m at the vet’s. Can’t
talk now. I’ll call you again later?”
A nudge from the back brought
me back to my senses, beckoning me to pass through the now cleared counter.
“Why bother?” I assured
myself. “Fast 7 comes first!”
*******
Shoulders against
shoulders, I made my way out of the cinema, as the crowd squeezed through a
bottleneck of a shutter door. Feeling the grumbling of my tummy, I made my way
to the Dome. The waiter threw me a surprised look as I turned up alone, but I
pretended not to have seen his rather impolite stare.
“Just what
I ordered, please,” I said to him just as he was just about to speak. Promptly
picking up the menu, he left. I sighed while throwing a glance across the hall,
which was pretty deserted bar a few occupied tables. A barely audible gasp
escaped my breath, as I saw a familiar silhouette right at the far corner of
the room, chatting happily to the man sitting across the table. I scampered for
my phone in the pocket.
“How’s
your cat?” My heart sank as the silhouette answered the phone right at the same
time.
“Erm…I’m
still at the vet…still…waiting for our turn.” Her hesitation was evident in her
trembling voice.
“You know
I could drop by…and check on you both,” I made sure to sound reassuring over
the phone.
“Erm…no
you really shouldn’t…erm…my..my mom is with me,” she stuttered, before
continuing, “You really don’t have to.”
I could
have sworn I would have heard her just fine without the phone; she was so
agitated that her company was concerned for her, enough to rest his hand on her
shoulder trying to calm her down.
I said no
more and hung up. In a moment of madness I switched on the camera and snapped a
photo of them, an embodiment of my shame and failure as a boyfriend. The food
arrived as I slumped against the chair. From afar I saw her excusing herself to
the toilet, no doubt to recompose herself, and reapply some of those foundation
powder and lipstick. Taking out a 50 dollar bill and pining it underneath an
ashtray, I left.
I could no longer recall how I actually
ended up back home safe and sound, having to drive 10 miles in that state of
mind. But it took her a week to finally come looking for me, since I no longer
called or texted her after that.
“Hey,” she
knocked was my door. Apparently my mother had let her in. “I haven’t heard from
you in ages so I figured…” She sat herself comfortably on my bed while I remained
seated in my chair, staring into a blank worksheet before me.
“Writer’s
block?” Her voice tinged with a dose of concern, which translated into a
painful pang in my heart. The more concerned she was for me, the more it hurt.
Ironically, I would have killed anyone or anything to have her treat me like
that.
“You know,
I’m really sorry,” her tone changed. “I know I’ve missed a lot of dates but
now,” she put her arms around my neck, “…but now I feel like I want to have
one.” Her cheerful and sweet smile reflected on the computer screen.
“Where have
you been?” I broke my silence. A bewildered
look hung on her face. “Last Monday. When we’re supposed to watch Fast 7
together.”
“Ah? Didn’t
I tell you my dog was sick?” Defensively she crossed her arms. “I had to bring
her to the vet.”
I swiped
my phone and opened the photo I took the other day and tossed it to her. Gasping
for air, no words came out of her mouth thereafter.
“I was
there. The cinema too. And no, I didn’t follow you. I meant to bring you there.”
She had a
palm covering her mouth, trying hard not to break into tears. Her other hand
was grabbing onto my phone as hard as she could, before finally tossing it on
my bed. Soon there was nothing left but dead silence in the air, an invisible
wall erected between us, a connecting bridge collapsed. At that moment I knew
it was over.
Grabbing
onto my phone, I walked out the room, only to pause at the door, intending to
leave her a final message. I could hear her sobbing.
“It was
the Persian,” I said. “You told me you brought your Persian cat to the vet.”
10 minutes
later I returned to the room only to find a void in there; whatever we once
were, stripped to the core, was just lies. Sometimes I do wonder, if I could
just pretend that everything is fine, that everything is beautiful when the
ugly part is swept under the closet, and that every that is a new day worth
living for.
But I know, deep down, I just could
not bring myself to forgive her for what she had done.