The problem with a job that involves travelling across the length and breadth of a country is that you are living out of a suitcase and your laptop is your only companion. Lying in the corner the blue- grey trolley looked tired and worn out just like I probably did. That reminded me I had not yet had dinner and it was getting late. The thought of changing out of the rag like but very comfortable nightwear into something more appropriate in order to go and have the buffet dinner seemed to much of a task. I was talking to my friends over social network, catching up about our respective day. I guess there was no harm in asking for room service. As I was telling a friend I met earlier in the evening, snacking after 7 pm will kill your appetite for dinner. I didn't feel like having anything.
But a call to the house keeping was due for some drinking water. That done I was back catching up with the folks online. We seem to be catching up with people online more than in real life. That's the irony of technological advances isn't it? But I can't wonder that aloud, I am alone in this huge room.
Conversations online mostly are like threads you start out with something and move onto something else and when one conversation ends on a particular day, you find it fairly easy to pick it up the next day. So along with the usual "how was you day?' there was the entire cribbing which was due for this week. Yes it had been a week since I had landed in the city and no my special friend hadn't come around to visit, nor call. Told you we meet people virtually a lot more these days.
People have a way of ending up disappointing me without knowing, and although I had about a thousand time promised my friends read girlfriends that I was not going to be upset about this, yet I was slowly getting sad.
It was 10:45 in the night and the day was over and I was leaving the city tomorrow. Hopeless! that's what the situation was.
The phone rang, strangely it was my alternate number where everyone was not supposed to call to help me save roaming charges, i wondered who it was. So, it was a shock to hear another very familiar voice, and I can't insist on the "very familiar' more, say "what's the address of your hotel?" I glanced at the watch it was 11 pm. I asked very much like the insensitive idiot that I am, "why, are you planning to come here?" I know "insensitive" seems a harsh word but that's what I am sometimes. I have a parallel track of conversation running in my head as we speak. I always seem to do that. But for some reason my responses just get stilted and I say exactly the opposite to what I think I should.
I kept pacing the room, hurriedly changing out of the rags that I keep calling nightwear. This was such a bad idea wasn't it. But this is what I was cribbing about a moment before. "Oh get a life girl! stop being silly"... I tell myself.
The dinner has gotten cold and I am trying to pretend to eat, not an ounce seems to travel past my throat, I drink a few glasses of water hoping it would calm my racing heart. The person in question here , responsible for the racing heart- is fiddling away with my laptop, as if between his dinner and 11 PM the world would end if he didn't check whatever he was checking. Ok that was an un intelligent thing to say, but I can't remember what is it that he said, I had the blood pounding in my ear and didn't hear a thing.
I stare out the clear plate glass window separating the room from the balcony into the dark night and wonder what to do. As usual I have no plans, I never seem to have any plans. But back home I am the one with the plans, but the pounding blood which Ideally should make me think more isn't helping.
I look up finding his reflection on the wall mirror, and suddenly a few minutes are gone and he is saying something I have no clue what, so I say "Yes Of course,sounds good", I was lost in staring at his reflection. This is not how a grown up woman should behave but then there I am avoiding even making eye contact. I look at the food, I look at the glass, I look at the walls and the ceilings, everywhere else but at him.
Now that we are in the car driving around aimlessly, I get comfortable. Strange a 'tiny car' seems less scary than a Hotel Room. I have often wondered why I can't talk normally in a room, I guess the whole King Size bed, the drawn blinds, the fact that we are alone in that space works on my mind. That should apply to cars shouldn't it? But it doesn't, I am cheerful, rattling off stories of my day. Apparently we are visiting his new apartment, which I haven't seen. I had no clue I had even said yes, I try to remember vaguely about something which I hadn't seen and he suggested I should see. I said yes, instantly, at the thought that we would be out of that room and hopefully with lots of people. Now I am hurtling towards his apartment at 12 AM in the night.
Brilliant! it does take a moron like me to come up with this kind of a situation. I keep checking every turn we are taking, every signpost I can read, I am like Jason Bourne, I count the stairs when I go up them in the dark, I am checking all the points of Exit. God, how melodramatic!!
I think this apartment is the biggest one I have seen, it's huge, and I see the furniture and wonder, who used to live here before, the taste is meticulous, the sofa is not a usual unimaginative black leather piece, each room has a wall clock, that actually are really nice but completely unnecessary ( I have a particular dislike for looking at watches and clocks). The rooms are sparsely decorated but contain what is required and nothing more, well maintained for a bachelor pad and looks well lived in, very warm and nice. So, I tick of points in my head, and then my eyes travel to the clock, damn it's been 15 mins already.
Exit strategy one, I am sleepy.
I abandoned that.
This is going in the worst possible way. I walk into his bedroom, and a relief floods me the bed looks like a dumping ground for everything, clothes, gadgets, utensils, typically like my own, except you would find some of the stuff not common. I say aloud my parents should see this and stop complaining that I am a pig and a hoarder, in my head I breath a sigh of relief, I am not expected to sit here because there is no space, the room is again clawing at my thought. But I have to give due attention to the collection of DVD's, so I spent time reading out the names and counting, avoiding looking at him, in fact I always have my back towards him, I can see from the corner of my eyes he is hovering around at a safe distance, with a straight face and something in his eye. Damn those eyes, never look at them. Two reasons I don't make eye contact, first, terrified of what I will see in them, second, petrified of what he will see in mine. I am so transparent.
DVD's, music, laptops, gadgets, clocks, shoes, rooms, cold beverages, I pick up everything randomly and throw into the conversation. It's almost an hour time for a new exit strategy.
Exit strategy two, you must be tired...
I start the sentence and trail off, because the rest fails logic, ideally I would say three things over phone,"freshen up", "have dinner", "get some rest", none worthy of an exit.
So back to gadgets and phones, by this time I have been tricked into sitting cross legged and precariously at the edge of the bed, a midst the hoard of junk, rattling off about something, I can't even put a finger and what I am saying, I am filling up the silence, the air conditioner, doesn't make enough sound, I curse it, I turn the fan on, because it is hot, then turn it lower, realizing the temperature control on the Air Conditioner reads 23, which means I am flushed. Suddenly I turn around to find my phone in his hand, and he has wicked smile on his face. The first few pictures in the gallery flash across my mind, I feel embarrassed, because I take pictures of empty rooms sometimes, then I feel wondering about the other pictures he must be looking at.
I snatch back the phone, and a argument ensues, about phones, privacy, wi fii connections, and suddenly without realizing I am sitting too close to him - I have no sense of personal space- trying to peer into the two phones, and arguing about the validity of some statement I am making. I stiffen up move away, slowly, thankfully the gadget experiment fails. I am sulking at the end of the bed staring at the clock tick to 1hour 30 mins.
Exit strategy three, throw a tantrum.
I revive the argument on privacy throw a few slaps at him, threaten to destroy the junk on the bed, throw a few things to the floor, but my heart isn't into it, finally without much trying in a reflex action i kick his shin. Now he is really pissed. I guess I overdid it. I guess some exit strategies are self destructive. Wonder what Bourne would have done?
I find he is watching me and I see he is pocketing his Car keys and apartment keys, so I am finally getting out of this sane, I think to myself.
One word breaks across the thoughts,"punishment". He is saying something, and slowly it starts registering, he refuses to drop me back, I instantly start thinking of the road map in my head, then comes another shock, the gates to the building are closed, I put up a brave fight, but when I was entering the building I checked the exit points and he is not making baseless threats. I am really stuck here.
I put up a brave face, I put up a fight, I lay out fake strategies.
He lays down the options, the practical ones.
And in my head, it is all coming together, I keep wondering how is it possible that he is saying all this, where have I heard this before. I know I have heard this somewhere. I strain to think. I try to pacify him by offering him some cold beverage, he refuses, I am wondering an thinking why does this seem familiar. The clock hands have ran past 2 AM, I figure no point putting up a fight to this, the flight is in the afternoon enough time to collect my luggage and get to the airport. So i take up one of the options he offered, of spending the night on his sofa and go to check out the arrangement, there is a balcony behind the room, and the frosty dark glasses scare me, I contemplate how scared I will be sleeping there alone, waking up to every creek of glass or wind whistling, but I am too tired and I want to sleep and the sofa looks pretty tempting. I hear him walk out of his bedroom, I guess I should swallow my exit strategies, and ask for help with the sofa being set up and a set of spare clothes he was offering. I smile at him and say, " well , since you are punishing me you better take good care of the prisoner, I am going to need to sleep as I am tired, don't suddenly decide after an hour that you have forgiven me and are setting me free."
The music blares, and the road flashes past, I feel scared and ask him to drive slower. I sit on my Hotel Room bed and then it hits me, where I had heard the options of sofa, extra clothes, a night before the return flight, it was in my Day Dream sitting in the cubicle with all the phones ringing, people shouting, fax machines whirring, and me staring at the laptop screen deciding on the final return dates for Sunday so I could spend a night with the special friend who I am madly in love with.
So much for a Day Dream... that's why when everything is happening exactly like your Day Dream just shut up and close your eyes.
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