There I was at the rendezvous, guilt-ridden for supposedly appearing behind schedule.I looked around and thought to myself “She must have left disappointed in my frustrating absence”,but I ordered a drink anyway and sat at the “red dot” of the restaurant,making myself an obvious target for my MIA date.
I brought along with me my accomplice for escapism which fed me stories of the Louisiana Tract of 1803,the power play of Nappleon,Jefferson and Charles VI of Spain, hoping my fears would fizz out and she would miraculously “show up!”.Half of my heart was buried in the masterful delivery of conspiracist history by Joel Levy while its twin oscillated between the to-leave-or-not-to-leave debate that ensued in my growing social anxiety and bare nervousness.In my uneasiness,I looked around in the way a rotating standing fan peruses its surrounding to find that I was kinda the only one chilling solo at a table for two–the sprite on my right being my interim company.
Then voilà! A few paragraphs after,I raised my head to meet a familiar face,that looked quite unfamiliar at a cursory glance.No,she wasn’t wearing Picasso’s palette this time but did liken a semi-burnt,brown cupcake or an oreos cookie(oh oh! I must be barbecue for saying this)–the Northern sun,most likely suspect.
Here she was,dressed like Clark Kent,the Kansas ranch boy in blue and black chequered shirt,rolled to the elbow;a folding that she would have to straighten later in the biting,fossilizing, Moscowish cold.I watched her tell tales of the spartan-tarzan adventure she had been up to in recent weeks,my eyes locked into hers(nah! No candle lights) as I was thrilled to see my *clears throat* again.
The date was much livier than the first(though no south thumbs on the former),I was on the spider-on-acid mode and it felt,amid the exhibionism,like my screws were loose,not to mean crazy(well! Maybe a lil but,bird-free in a subjective way of speaking).
She seemed to be splitting her ribs in her modest way of laughing on a string of humorous utterances.I was sorta the thespian and she was the applauding audience of one.
Ehmmmm,what else? What else? *shuffles through now-bankrupt memory* Ha! She loved that card:a pink color-splash patterned card I handed her–three hours of solid work awarded the recognition of one of the social niceties “Thank you”! *sobs*…*blows nose like a trumpet,clears eyes and throat* though twas made for hearts brightening sake only anyway.
Then,it had to be done;we had to leave Disneyland and all the sprite-brand effervescence of the evening.But one thing was certain:that date would leave me day-dreaming for a thousand nights.
-The Anonymous Cherif