23.4.15

My best friend, my desire.

I had my Radiohead's playlist on repeat. But this time, Fake Plastic Trees was on play. My fingers were dancing on the steering wheel, following every rhythm and beat. They said smoking kills, but little did they know, so does waiting.

I suddenly caught a glimpse of him, descending the staircase playfully. Looking busy, he was typing out, perhaps a tweet on his mobile phone. If I had my nose forever in a book all the time, he would have his nose in his mobile phone most of the time. It was such a bummer, really. Had he not kept his head down while in public, every young girl could feast their eyes on his devilishly handsome face. 

There was only one word to describe my sun-kissed best friend. Where his eyes were as rich as melted chocolate and were deep as the ocean. His black olive hair that had tousled griminess which screamed finesse was combed back. He had strong arched black brows and thick eyelashes that got better the more I looked. His high cheekbones were as distinctive as his piercing smile. The kind of smile that would appear as a sign of bliss instead of an utter grimace if it were to be on anyone else but him. 

He moved towards my car, frowning.

"Sorry, late as usual." He blurted out upon entering my car. He did not wear a sweater today and his sleeves were rolled up revealing his brown muscular forearms.

"I'm so used to that already. So, shall we?"

We had an initial plan set up by then. He was supposed to treat me with a fine dinner, and in return I would do a simple favour for him. A favour that perhaps is only favourable to him.

There we were. At the right place. I parked my car near the entrance of the garden. From afar, I could see a porcelain white table matched with a pair of empty chairs as its florid centerpiece. A set of white, unlit candles was placed on the table, together with several dark red rose petals purposely arranged on its clean surface. 

It was a perfect kind of evening. The sun was already dipping behind the horizon, but the daylight still lingered in the air as though waiting for an answer. 

We took our seats. He was embracing the sun rays, looking away from me. But his lips they were lifted upwards, and I could see his angular jaw from aside. In the deafening silence, he opened his mouth.

"I am looking at the sunset right now. It is as beautiful as the first day I saw your face. I have never wanted anyone else in my life. I enjoy the sunset as much as I enjoy the sunrise. But nothing could ever beat your presence in comparison to either. I am very in love with you." 

I stared at him, perhaps for several seconds that he must have noticed it. With distance this close, I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. "Is that it? That is your surprise?" I asked.

"Of course there will be another surprise that ensues. I was thinking to buy her a ring and propose to her after saying those words out loud. I am nervous." He let out a long sigh.

"I think that's beautiful. Simple but lovely enough. She would have liked that." I patted his hand which rested on the empty table. As if that could assuage his anxiety.

But really, that did assuage his anxiety. His mouth twitched as I was very sure that he was fighting back a smile. "There is nothing to worry about. She would accept your marriage proposal." I added.

"Thanks, I knew I could count on you. Best friends for life!" he offered his fist, awaiting me to counter it with a friendly bump. 

I greeted it with my fist. "And always."

15.4.15

Table talk with R.

I thought I wanted this. 6 years spent for a recognition that was supposed to satisfy my needs and hope. At least, that was what I have trained myself to believe in. I wanted to do this, because this is what I want in my life.

The only thing that should make me proud is by completing this task. I have started this many years ago. What could have made me prouder is the transformation I'd show to everyone of what I am capable of doing. To complete an impossible task.

"But why does it feel so wrong? It does not feel right, or as right as I thought it should have been." I questioned myself incessantly.

I looked at my watch, 7:45 p.m.

I ordered another cup of green tea latte, feeling uneasy that the waitress would chase me out for sitting there throughout the past 3 hours, looking morbid.

Today marks the day of the first meeting with my first personal client, a youthful and inspirational designer. Although inaugural, I would like to prepare myself for an amiable first impression.

"Hey, sorry to keep you waiting." 

I smiled warmly and invited him to take a seat. Usually I am averse to late comers, or at least a man with a fedora. But somehow I am able to intenerate my detestation. Perhaps this is very much contributed by his slovenly hair hidden beneath the ugly fedora, or it could have been the dimples.

"No big deal, I've just arrived." 

He flicked through the menu as he sat down. He quickly ticked a few boxes in the order form. Frankly, I do not despise such forms but somehow they made the attendants oblivious to the plight of poor interpersonal skills.

He passed the order form to the nearest waitress standing a few inches away. "So how did you get here?"

"My office is only nearby. How about you?" I sluggishly answered.

"Oh that explains. I drove all the way from home. I live in Ipoh anyway. Perak, the state of immense tranquility and beauty." He beamed. "Where do you live?"

I straightened up. "I live in the state of denial."