Happy Valentine’s day

“Why did I let him chose where to meet? And why did i agree to meet him in this restaurant?”, hit my forehead with my phone. I have never been here before,I stood there adjusting my hair in the reflection of the restaurant door.

I didn’t want to meet him at my apartment for my husband would know. It was the first time I was going to meet him. I have just spoken to him over phone a couple of times.

The dried leaves surrounded my feet in the autumnal wind that blew hard. I started rubbing my hands to feel warm. I couldnt wait anymore. “I could not have made such a bad choice” cursing myself I walked into the restaurant.

The air was warm, but I didn’t feel better. The lights were dim and paintings were strange. The music made me feel worse.

He said he would reserve a table. My eyes searched for a table with the “reserved” board.

My stilettos broke the eerie as I walked the aisle and stumbled on to a table. Ouch!! I hurt my knee. I was hating every moment I waited and the knee annoyed me even more. I couldnt have hated him more than then. The excitement of meeting him died with every passing moment.

How did he look like? Considering the hoarseness of his voice , I presumed he would be manly , six feet tall with a salt and pepper mousch and beard. He always sounded preoccupied and immersed in thoughts and never understood my enthusiasm over phone. He was probably in pain. He should have a prominent scar in his face.

The wittiness in his talk could at times piss off anybody easily. In the last call I spoke to him, when I said I don’t want to meet him at my house, “Is your husband home??? Lucky him.. We shall meet at the restaurant.” he replied. Why would he mock at me as if I was upto something deceptive?

His humour was out of sorts.

He knew why i wanted to meet him in private and he agreed to it and still… He must be hooked to nicotine and must have stained teeth.

I was startled from my imaginations by a loud voice,”Hellooo”. There he stood the man from my imaginations, with a scar and a nasty beard. He opened his mouth in a glee to reveal his nicotine stained teeth.  I couldnt speak .

“Welcome. Can I take your order madam?”,terrified I did not respond. “Looks like you are waiting for someone. Can I get something for you to drink?”continued the waiter.  “Waterrrr”, he walked away after lighting the candle on the table.

Could have called it delusions.. but how could he pop out of my thoughts?

The ambience was doing something strange to me.  I could see the silhouette of a couple at the farther end of the aisle passionately busy.

“Could he also do something to me? Should I inform someone that I am here? Will I get back home safe?  Why should i risk? I need to get going before something bad happens. But wasnt I here on purpose…??”, I doubted him, but still had to wait.

A loud noise broke the train of thoughts of the panicked-stricken me. From the door emerged a young man, could be in his late twenties. I could see him exchange words with the waiter and he walked towards my table and sat in the one across mine. He greeted me with a pleasant smile.

He was looking at me with keen eyes. His gaze made me conscious of the droplets of sweat in my forehead. I searched for tissues from my vanity bag.

He stretched his arm  to  my table and picked a tissue and handed it over to me. “Are you ok?, You look nervous” . with a trembling hand, I got it from him. “I am  good” I managed to smile.

“Are you waiting for somebody?” he questioned. I nodded with a smile.

” Boyfriend? Are you on a date?”

I didn’t respond.

“Oops I am sorry. I hear you.. None of your business…” he laughed. His presence made me feel good. His charm was magnetic.

“No I am meeting someone else. Are you here for dinner with your girlfriend?” I reverted.

“I am here to  meet a girl, probably a pretty looking one. She aint my girlfriend.”

(He stood up)

“Excuse me young lady, I would step out to relax and get prepared to meet her.” “I still want to look my best, could be worthy” he winked. The aura he was emanating brought me out of the fear of the place. He was Mr.Charming.

(I sat desperately looking at my phone)

“I have reached, I could give it to you in a few minutes. Are you there already?” after an an hour and half of wait , I got his call.

“Yes I am” I said relieved.

I got up from the table to stand watching the doorway. Mr.Charming reappeared.  He stepped closer and smiled.

“How long do you expect to be here?”he asked.”Could I ask you a favour?” he walked back to the table.

He could be at ease even with a stranger.

Before I could reply he continued, I have to meet my girlfriend in half an hour. And I have to drive 12kms to reach her before which I have to buy her flowers. Could you please do this favour?

“Hmm. You havent told me what you wanted me to help you with?” I intervened. He started writing something in a hurry.

“Could you please handover this to the girl who would arrive in a few minutes? I have a letter for her. I would send her a text asking her to  meet you” and he got busy with his phone.

He stopped in between and looked at me and said “I am sorry for being rude, I did not ask if you are okay doing this for me”.

I had to be nice with Mr.Charm, “You werent rude as the one who made me wait here. I could be of help at least for you”.

He pulled out a flower from the vase on the table , held it out to me and said “Thank you young lady. It was nice meeting you.”

I was amazed at his gesture and stood there staring at the flower he gave and he held out a tissue to me again. “My number, Please give me a call. I need to thank you. Take care”. he rushed to his car.

I took the package he wanted me to handover and read the name on the box. It read “Charolette Nielson”.

I took out the letter and my mobile beeped.

“Am I in the wrong table??”

…………………………………………………………………

Few more minutes to 12’O Clock. I sat by the bedside window recollecting the day’s happenings.

I re-read the sms. “Charolette, Please collect your package from the lady who sits in the table next to the one I reserved.I have to rush. Confirm once received.”

The clock struck 12. I screamed at the top of my voice, “Happy #Valentine’s Day Honey”.

I handed him a handmade glass art piece. He carefully touched it and hugged me tight “This is fabulous Darling!!!

Where did you buy this Charolette?”.

Thank you for reading my experiments on short story writing.

 

 

Friday Fervor

Thought I misspelt it for “Friday Fever”? No ..Not that… I do have that also. but I am not speaking that now… (may be??)

Every Friday, an #angel (I don’t want to name it demon) visits me and takes possession of me. The angel tells me how badly I worked the past four days and how I have not fulfilled the reason for my being. Trust me, the angel also tells me I could have worked wonders through the week and could have had a happy weekend.

I regret. I reflect. I respond.

I close my eyes and replay the scene in the apartment before I start to office. The race I ran with the seconds hand in the clock – the number of times I run in between the living room , the mirror , the kitchen and finally a run (with my shoes on toes) to check the stove , heaters and to ensure all appliances and lights turned off. I visualize how shabbily I left the house – scattered advertisement papers, chocolate wrappers, coffee cups, undone dishes, the week’s used pairs of socks on the shoe rack ….. Hmm, yes that’s the mess I live in.

The list of regrets goes on.. the half read library book at the bedside,  the draft blog post, incomplete Norsk homework, an ambitious workout plan unachieved, …..I sink in regrets at the unachieved plans.

The angel does not appreciate the despondence across my face and says “Doesnt suit you Baby.. Action!! Its Friday again.” I brush off the stains of regrets and I start making plans for a perfect Saturday and more perfect Sunday with a week ahead in mind.  A compensatory sleep schedule, planned menu and shopping list based on the menu and  training schedule.

I lookup the web for the weekend apartment therapy and end up making a detailed cleaning plan. The angel doesn’t let me relax and wakes up the dream blogger in me. I look for writing challenges, topics for writing and make a list of titles to write. The excitement of making these plans gives me more energy I search for new recipes to experiment over the weekend and the shopping list is also made. Sounds like an awesome plan.. aint it?

The possessed me is all in fire to execute these plans. I kiss the angel for the awareness and converting the awkwardness to an action plan.

Did you say a Vow now? I do always… in admiration of the great action plan.

She hugs me and says “the next plan would be even better Baby”

Thats the end of the Friday Fervor…

The angel who took possession of me is in a hurry to leave and bids good-bye to meet me a week later. The truth is she meets me in the same state every Friday and never did I meet her in a better situation.

I hear you ask what I did with those plans? The enthusiasm is fresh in the evening and starts dwindling with hours and reduces even more as I hit the snooze button Saturday morning and soon it is Sunday night when I am already worrying about the weekend that was over…

And about the Friday Fever now…This fervor was because of the fever that took over before the angel arrived.

Does the fervor hit you too??