Lost at midnight

Scene 1

“ I love you!”
“ Do you?”
“Yeah! Very much”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Why? Whats wrong with my feelings?”
“But, you didn’t love me some few days ago”
“Well,…”
He looked into her eyes. Black eyes, eyes of a cat? He never knew, so many black-eyed women, and still there was something different in those eyes. Something kind of enchanting, some inner smartness, and beauty. She saw his smile, he had always managed the best of smiles. Key to success some would say. Even in the hardest situations that smile had saved him the unpleasant. And she could see that smile there. Why was he smiling? And she liked that smile. Calm, tranquil smile. Had some air of assurance, certainty. Those he always believed nothing could be left to certainty. Maybe too many physics books in school days, one could smell some Werner Heisenberg kind of thinking, uncertainty. But this time he felt Werner heisenberg just proposed a theory, it was never verified with women, and human emotions.
“why you smiling?’
“Don’t you like it?”
“but I want to know why? You never smiled like this before!”
“yeah”, smile turned into a grin, he could look mischievous too, with a grin, irresistible grin, white teeth, long, shining in that night dark, and the best part, his eyes, glare. Was it the location? Or was it him? Or HER? One meets so many people in life, some are good, some claim to be good, and there are a big number you can’t stand a minute. And there she was, sitting, legs folded on the car seat, leaning a bit his way, looking at him, her face was all a big smile, so loose and cool. Some people are afraid of death, and they try to run away from it, they keep taking vitamin C pills every morning to help pharmaceutical businesses running, thinking that could prolong life, but it’s not death itself that scares them, it’s the face of death. One has never got finished businesses, people don’t just finish their chores and then wait in a line to have a meet with death, death comes, at random, and then he thought , wow, how could that have felt if one could die like that, in a peaceful death, and what if death would come with one on a late night ride listening to Diana krall or Frank Sinatra and joking, and let one go, peacefully, with no hideaous face. Wow, if death knew that, he’d change his strategy, and business would be great. Taking lives, or he’d be a don juan, or a femme fatale.
“and what r you thing about?”
“nothing! You”
“so why don’t you talk to me?”
she could say the harshest of things in the nicest way possible, let alone the nicest things. That’s a gift, he always thought, to be a charm, not a charmer, some people r charmers, they can hate inside and still go to a coffee shop with you, and you d never know what their smile would mean or what they would say next, or , ………………….., head lights, incoming traffic, what a cool night, no air-conditioning, just air, cars r great these days, but drive in acar with air-conditioning on always feels like having sex with a model with a pillow on her face, you never hear her moan, and you never feel the air into your hair, in your face, and you never feel it when they say love’s in the air. A roadster, wow, and carefree drive. That’s life. Love was yellow, frank sinatra singing his favorite song, why didn’t they sing love songs like that no more. Maybe noone bought love no more.
“still thinking about me?”
“nope, “
“so what is it?”
gosh she could draw every big or small thing she ever wanted out of his mouth, magical.
“I’ll tell ya”
“want to know it now”
“well, …. Ummm, nope”
“why not”, she was getting closer, head a bit more tilted, short hair, smile, all like a piece of work, and so many people don’t like short hair, lack of taste. Some men never know what’s good in a woman and whats great. And short hair was one of those things he knew was great in a woman. It felt good, looked good, you don’t have to use much imagination, you never have to have hard times if she doent know what to do with long hair, and it feels good both wet and when one wants to lie on one side at night and run his fingers through a little hair on the pillow while trying not to wake her up, it would never gets tangled.
“so?” a
“I ll tell ya, but im not gonna tell ya now! Honey”
“oh noooooo, plz, you know I cant wait! Tell me now”
smile. Yeah it came back there or was it there all the time, drivers coming the other way would think him crazy smiling to himself or smiling to them? Thankfully it was dark enough to be masked. Still the night has a thousand eyes. Yeah. That’s true, one’s always better seen at nite. Is that why nite-riders wore in black? And still batman could be seen at nite. And they do bank robberies in the day. What r these thoughts? Crazy!
“I ll tell ya one day in your ear”
“and why don’t you say it in my ear now?
“in 6 months”
“gosh, 6 months”, she was laughing, her sweetest laughters. God was there anything he didn’t like about her? He couldn’t find any! It ‘s so funny. Or was it? One cant find anything wrong with someone.
“so you are going to be my little sweet baby and tell me now. Here s my ear”
she leaned closer, her perfume in his nose, he always loved that, it was soft, can one say soft perfume? But it felt soft, it wasn’t too much, it never was, and she was close , and meanwhile brushing her hair aside to bear more of that well-shaped ear, well done god, and then kept her waiting posture, haid titlted a bit, and she knew how to treat him, and carry herself, and be a doll, and act sweetly. And that’s when every normal man loses control. Verge of slip. Or a threshold. Each man’s got a threshold, and it’s never the same with every woman. With some it’s so high and with some you just cant find where ur controls were when you left home in the morning. And this was one of those moments. How could one resist the drive. and that petite little girl just fitted his hug, so fit, not an inch smaller or bigger, wow, that was another thing, he never had to find a position to hug her better, like it fitted in like a quality built precision machined german made piece, it was he wanted, a hand round her shoulder, he didn’t need that one on the gear-shift nomore, and she was in his arm and a head on his shoulder. It never feels better to have a woman’s head on one’s shoulder than being a world power lifting champion, it feels no weight at all or if it does it feels like one’s got the whole world lifted on a finger. She rested her head on his shoulder. So relyingly. And that was the point. When a woman rests her head on a man’s shoulder it means too much, and few ever notice it, and few women ever do that with their men, don’t they rely on them? Or don’t they want to rely? And there she was softly letting her head be there on his shoulder, no road bumps could ruin that moment, even not a nuclear blast! He caressed her hair, still keeping a hand on the wheel. It felt so good. It always does, and those who have never done this, must envy those who have, and if they r still looking for some sense in their lives, try to experience that position, hand on the wheel, head on the shoulder drive. they never teach it at BMW or Porsche’s driving schools, or they never give one a ticket for doing that. And who cares if they do. One can get a ticket for speeding along a free-way in a Porsche, and they make porsche’s to make their owners happy, and they make roadsters to make their owners super-happy. As they can drive and enkoy the head-on-shoulder position, and that’s where automatic gearboxes become so hip, one must know something to spend time inventing something.
“so are you going to tell me now?”
hey, have you ever read anything about resistability? And resistance? It’s a law, in physics and nature, and they spend so much money on making lubricants, though women can easily over-come the toughest of frictional forces, and overcome barriers of electrical resistance, she was whispering words soft, like music, French is not so musical, they can be happy with their saying, la francais est la musique, but this music? Is different. And it was a tongue loosening way of asking. They could have used that on Saddam Hussein to find abt the hideouts of his concealed WMD’s, and he’d even tell them about his sexual affairs.
“you know?” and now he was speaking, he could nt resist that tone or that smile or that hand on his lap, with some miniature imperceptible moves making wrought iran melt, and the smell. “ I was thinking, or better to say flash-backing”
“when?”
“right now”
“and, what abt?”
“well, my life, things now, and how things are and have turned out to be!”
“ahan?!”
he loved that term, ahan, simply meaning ok, go ahead, listening.
“well, it’s so good now”, “ you and I, the way we started out in the first place, and the way it all came to this point”and she was waiting for more to come, and he went back to the years left behind. How one spends life like currency, easily, on nothing, or things he finds important at that moment, and then they turn out to be useless efforst and investments. Life’s like an investment sometimes. One invests in the right things, and they come up with the right results, irrespective of contingencies, and then one day, you find yourself faced with the worst of things......................................... (to be finished somewhere sometime, someday!)