This could be considered a more raw version of bleed. On advice from Biks and Karan, have tried using dialogue here. The last line is a straight lift from Untitled.. (karan's masterpiece). KS, words of wisdom needed here. Should i quit dialogue..or stick to it?
Covers and clothes strewn all over the place. An unfinished bourbon stood on the bedtable. The sunlight crept in, and the viscosity of the drink lessened to the waking eye, like the shallowness of the whole situation coming through, as dark and murky as the drink was in the cold dawn light. Like paddling through an endless lake where the oar would get caught in seaweed everytime. Somewhat like the peace in the finality of being crushed by a python.
He turned around to see the steady breathing on his back. The stark to the point of being vulgar beauty assailed his senses. The tousled hair, sticking to her forehead with the activity last night just made the concept of sweat attractive. It was the thought of the unnatural being appealing. Something that shouldn’t have been done. The sun just bathed the white in shades of silver, the colour the sun appears obscured by clouds when you look out the airplane window on a sleepy flight. Interspersed with the shadow cast by him playing along like an intergalactic comet lighting up all in its path, giving legitimacy to the just darkness. He ran a finger on the alien terrain, with an almost electrostatic effect. She woke with a start.
‘Damn it, you were supposed to wake me up at dawn. He’s going to be home any minute now.’
‘Tell him you’d gone for a jog. You certainly look the part right now.’
‘Its not that fucking simple. He’s an average husband. Explaining why I’d gone jogging wearing heels might just be an issue. Tried explaining something like that to your girlfriend lately?’
‘The bane of long distance. Severed communication lines can be quite the bitch in an already dysfunctional relationship. If I really had the opportunity to have such a heart to heart, I wouldn’t exactly be gawking in wonder at your natural splendour now, would I ? Do spare me the sudden surge of honour. Pulling the covers up to your neck right now doesn’t exactly put you in the ranks of the holy mother here. I’m pretty sure she’d seek an explanation of why you smell of aftershave before she inducted you in her order. I mean seriously, a minute back, your breasts, wonderfully sculpted in the image of the maker, if I might unapologetically add were there to visually assuage the eyes of the world, the world here, being me.. and suddenly, skaboosh! Lo and behold… your marriage vows come running towards you in slow motion, with a tan on the beach, eh? ’
‘You bastard..’
‘Yes baby, me, the bastard. I turned into one last week after the thought of getting fucked in the morning instead of fixing your kid’s lunch crossed your mind at the little office do we had at your place.’
‘I told you there was no future in what we were doing.’
‘Did I say I was looking for one? I thought my being here just emphatically negates any need that I may have had for it. Don’t flatter yourself for a minute plumcake. I am here because this does not have a future. And because you expressly have more to lose on the line that I do. I’ve already done my share of the losing bit. Just waiting for the final nail in the coffin. This escapade, once narrated shall just serve to get the inevitable a little closer. Well, much closer than that, once you get down to it.’
The sun was up now. He propped himself up on the headboard and reached for the cigarette packet. He lighted one and tried turning towards her. He couldn’t. He watched the rice paper, the blue wisps of smoke, heard the tobacco and the paper simmering. Finished another level of brickbreaker on the blackberry. He still looked away. At the wall, saw the photographs of a family. The sun slanted through the window, seemingly burning through the frame, the glass clawing inevitably at the fragile old piece of paper inside. He pulled out a crumpled paper from his wallet, unfolded and straightened it out over and over like a bad kid bringing his homework to school and gazed at it, pulling the smoke deeper in with every drag, till it brought him close to choking and the tears just naturally welled up. The sunlight blazed through them, blurring everything out momentarily. Back to the week old newspaper clipping that was in his fingers.
She took it from his numb fingers and saw his girlfriend with her head splattered on a car dash that had rammed into a wall. She was in the car with another guy. Drunk driving. They were staying in the motel alongside. Flipside was, the guy had his pants at his knees.
He got up, buckled his trousers and drained the stale bourbon. She went over to his side.
‘ I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Bitch wasn’t worth it.’
A tear rolled down his cheek.
He left shortly.
