Dead Silence

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.